Diego's Point of View

(A Kiss with the Stranger)

I slammed the butt of my gun on his battered face, a smirk curling up my lips as warm liquid trickled down his nostrils. He groaned in pain, trying to move, but the ropes restrained him.

“Who paid you?” I asked coldly, my voice edged with anger.

I found it disgusting that I'd been betrayed by my best hitman. He was my right hand, and now he ratted me out. The thought grated on my nerves.

“I didn't do it,” his words faltered, tears rolling down his eyes.

Haahaa…Is that a Weakness I sense?

Watching him shed tears sent darts of anger to my chest.

“After all the training, he chose to shed tears as his best defense mechanism? Pathetic,” I mumbled.

I paced around the dark room, my thoughts racing a mile ahead. The CCTV footage was the only evidence I needed.

The previous night, he brought the rival gang into my warehouse, and they made away with kilos of different drugs, killing 6 of my men. Now, he claims innocence?

I bit my lips, my chest tightened with anger, my face reddening with fury as I stretched my hand across the table, picking up the dagger I had instructed them to heat up. Maybe that'd force the truth out of his treacherous lips.

“P… Please. Please,” he begged, tears rolling down his cheeks relentlessly. This fueled my rage. I walked over to him, unfazed by his yelling.

“Are you gonna talk, Regan, or should I do it the hard way?” I asked in a low tone.

Loyalty was all I had asked. Was it difficult to remain loyal? Now, I had to question the loyalty of the others.

“I… I didn't do it. I never did,” he pleaded, desperate to leave the room.

I shut my eyes, my smirk growing wilder as I placed the hot dagger on his chest.

“Fuck!!” he yelled loudly. Weirdly, the sound he made was… melodious, and I loved it.

Regan was a tough guy. Torturing him wouldn’t make him spill the truth that easily. I snapped my fingers, and they walked out.

I sat across the room on a chair, my lips wide open. I placed a cigarette between my lips, flickering the lighter. The amber liquid glowed in the dark, and I took a long drag, releasing the dirty smoke through my nostrils.

The other gang members walked in a few minutes later with a lady. She was in cuffs, her hair disheveled. My gaze shifted to Regan. I could see the shock etched on the lines of his face.

“Diego!”

“Diego, don't do this, Please”

“She's my fucking wife!” he yelled, his lips quivering.

“What was more fun than a holiday on Christmas? Watching your enemies whisper your name like a desperate prayer”.

I was quick to notice the bump in her stomach. She was pregnant, and I could place a million bets that Regan was responsible. This was getting fun.

“R… Regan,” she called, her lips trembling.

“Listen, baby. I'll fix…. everything,” he stammered.

I walked over to the lady across the room, my eyes darkening. Watching her tremble made excitement course through my veins.

“Please, get her out of this,” Regan pleaded, his voice cracking.

I squatted, my eyes staring at the bump in her stomach. The whining of Regan was muffled. I was done listening to his pleas. I was going to do it my way.

“Aside from being the leader of the Night's group, I'm also a surgeon,” I said, my lips folding into a thin line.

“Shall we see what's hidden in her stomach? Maybe a little pumpkin?” I teased, massaging my steel friend around her baby bump.

I snapped my fingers, and they brought me a dagger. I could feel the chair creak under Regan's weight as he struggled to free himself while pleading on her behalf.

I raised the dagger high in the air. Just as I was about to give a clean cut-, I heard the sentence I had anticipated.

“I’ll tell the truth!” he yelled.

I rose from the floor, slowly whirling in his direction. I folded my arms, my left brow-raising a bit.

“I’m listening,” I drawled.

“Promise you'd let her go if I told you this?” he asked.

I cocked my gun, clearly stating my lack of interest in his stupid bargain. Of course, I'd let her go. I wasn’t stupid enough to kill a pregnant woman. Hell, I was trained never to hit a woman.

A sigh escaped through his lips, his shoulders sagging.

“I was threatened and paid for by the Dark Brothers to gain access into the warehouse,” he began.

“I swear, I didn't mean to, but they gave me no choice,” he said, his breathing coming in short, haggard gasps.

Choice? That was greed!

“You always have a choice, Regan,” I said, masking my irritation and disgust with a straight poker face.

“I was told to either choose the money or lose Linda. Linda was…”

The gun spat fire, the bullet piercing into his head. I let out a defeated sigh, slipping the gun into my pants and adjusting my belt. It was always about women.

My gaze averted to the lady; her eyes were wide open as if she were staring at the grim reaper. I rolled my eyes, walking past her as she was dragged out by the gang.

Outside, the smoke rose to the clouds as the gang members burned the warehouse. Just then, my phone buzzed. I dragged it to my eye view. My stomach twisted the name that appeared on the screen, fueling my anger. It was him—my dad.

He had been on my neck ever since I returned from Scotland to get married just to hold up the family legacy.

‘Fuck you!” I mumbled, dragging the phone to my ear, and took a deep breath as I greeted.

“Good evening, Dad”

Without responding to my greeting, he quickly replied, “We agreed on meeting this evening, Diego,”

“We did?” I asked, acting clueless.

Immediately he went quiet, even without being told, I knew damn well he was burning in fury.

“How about we reschedule it? I've got a couple of things I'm handling,” I said nonchalantly.

“You better get your stupid ass here. I don't care what you are up to, but I've got to discuss something important with you!” he yelled with anger in his tone.

“Father, I know you want to talk about getting married, but I…”

Diego! Screamed my dad as he shut me up from altering another word.

“If You fail to get a bride before the month runs out, I'll hand the company over to Camila!” he commanded, hanging up the call rudely.

Seeing that the line had suddenly gone dead. I squared my shoulders, dragging the phone into my pants pocket.

I strode confidently towards my car, the evening’s cool air biting my skin. The moon was up in the sky, bathing the street with its ethereal glow.

My car hummed to a stop in front of a hotel, and I climbed down. I wasn't going home. I needed to clear my mind. Despite how calm I looked, I could still hear my dad's voice piercing through my head.

I clenched my jaw, exhaling slowly as I stepped into the club. The bass of the music thumped through my chest, the dim lights casting shadows across the sea of bodies swaying in drunken ecstasy. The familiar burn of whiskey slid down my throat, but even that couldn’t drown out my father’s voice.

Camila. The company. The goddamn legacy.

Tired of my father's word tormenting my evening, my eyes began to wonder as I scanned the scenery of the club.

Suddenly, My eyes fluttered open, and I saw her. She took different shots of alcohol, tears rolling down her eyes. She looked vulnerable and weak.

I rolled my eyes away, trying so hard to mind my business, but my gaze kept snapping back to her.

Before I could second guess, my feet instinctively walked towards her. She raised the glass in the air to drink, and I stopped her, snatching the drink away from her.

“Give me back my drink!” she protested.

“That’s enough, young lady. You have taken too much,” I said my voice firm.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” she asked, with a voice shivering with sobs as she shot me a glare.

“Are you here to control me, just like they do?” she asked, standing up to take the drink but staggered, falling right into my arms.

A smirk tugged by the side of my lips. You can't even get a hold of yourself. “So much for not being drunk,” I mumbled.

“Let’s call it a night,” I mumbled.

I walked to the receptionist and booked her a suite to spend the night. Every action I took was a contrast to my personality, and I couldn't explain why.

Just as I was about to leave, I heard her voice,

“Stay with me,” she begged. I was torn between walking away and staying with her. With a resigned sigh, I chose to stay with her.

As she clung to my body, I should have pushed her away and asked her to keep her hand to herself, but instead, I found myself craving more of her…touch.