CHAPTER SIX: THE MISSION
Bella woke to solid and steady warmth against her back. Strong arms wrapped around her.
Alexandro.
Then it hit her. She had spent the night in a man’s house.
She never stays the night.
Memories crashed into her mind: his mouth devouring her, the way he had coaxed every last shred of resistance from her body until she was begging, trembling, and breaking apart beneath him. He had somehow unraveled her completely.
He had made her surrender, and worse, she had liked it.
Her breath caught.
What the hell had come over her? Was she drugged?
Was that her that acted like that with a man??
She carefully extracted herself from his grip and gathered her dress and underwear scattered around the room. She found her handbag flung in a corner of the room and reached blindly inside it, her fingers unsteady as she brought out her phone and unlocked the screen to check the time.
A text message notification made her pause. It was her Papa, Enzo.
Come to my place ASAP. I have an important job for you.
Bella exhaled sharply, the moment cracking like glass around her. Reality had found her again, pulling her back into the world she belonged to. One where she was Bella and not Carmen, a world where men like Alexandro D’Soto were nothing but distractions.
She ordered an Uber and quickly left the room without looking back.
-----
Bella stared out the rain-laced glass, the scenery blurring as her Porsche Spyder sped down the tree-lined roads leading to her handler's mansion. The night with Alexandro lingered like heat on her skin. His hands. His voice.
She stepped harder on the accelerator, like she was physically running away from the memory of her weakness.
A warning flaring up from the pit of her soul. Men like him— powerful, charming, rich—always turned out the same. Monsters underneath.
She had learned the hard way. The men who paid her stepfather for a few hours of her body just when she was a child were cut from the same cloth: the expensive suits, the commanding eyes, the scent of power.
She had bled under their touches. She had smiled through the pain.
So what the hell was her body doing craving him?
She inhaled sharply, pushing the memory down, burying Bella the woman, and dragging Siren, the assassin, back into control. Emotion was a liability.
Enzo’s villa stood like a quiet fortress on the hills outside the city.
Two of Enzo’s men escorted her past the familiar halls to the sunken sitting room. Her combat boots echoed against the stone.
When she stepped in, her eyes sharpened in surprise.
Three other men were also seated: Francesco, Greco, and Vittori.
The remaining heads of the most dangerous crime family in the country.
Well, this can’t be good.
Her eyes flicked to Enzo, seated on a sofa facing them. A slow smile touched her lips as she strode toward him.
“Papa,” she purred, leaning down to kiss his cheek.
He didn’t smile, but his hand brushed her arm with something that felt like pride.
A snide chuckle broke the moment.
Greco leaned back in his seat, gold rings gleaming. “You want to give this important mission to her? The whore?”
Bella didn’t flinch. She turned slowly toward him, her voice dripping with mocking sweetness. “Still bitter that you can’t still afford me, Greco?”
Francesco chuckled under his breath, but Vittori frowned.
“With all due respect, Enzo,” he said, “I agree with Greco. This is a very delicate mission. Not for just anyone, especially not someone as reckless and wild as Siren.”
Bella cocked her hip, flashing him a sharp, mocking grin. “Aw, you mean fun? Sorry if, even with all your pills, your heart can’t handle excitement, old man.”
Vittori’s jaw tensed. “Seems like sucking too many dicks has loosened your tongue. You have forgotten what respect is.”
He surged toward her, hand raised, but Enzo lifted one finger.
“Enough.” His voice cracked through the room like a whip. “Everyone. Sit.”
Bella didn’t flinch. She remained standing, back to Enzo, eyes locked with Vittori in open challenge.
“Angioletta,” Enzo said, firmer this time.
She cocked her head. “Yes, Papa?”
“Behave. Come sit beside me.”
With a smirk, she obeyed, settling beside him on the couch like a spoiled cat.
Enzo turned his gaze on the men. “First, she is perfect for this job. Steel has a well-documented fondness for beautiful women. My Bella is the best of them.”
Bella tilted her head and cooed, “Aww, you always flatter me, Papa.”
He ignored her tone and continued. “Second, this is not a simple hit. This is infiltration. Deep cover. If Steel dies suddenly, we risk igniting a war. His men are loyal. Fanatical. They’ll burn down the entire state if they suspect foul play.”
All three men nodded slowly, the weight of his words sinking in.
Greco muttered reluctantly, “Fine. I see why she fits the bill.”
Enzo’s gaze turned icy. “And third,. I didn’t summon you all here to seek permission or opinions. I called you here to tell you the next move. What gives you the balls to question me?”
The room fell still. Vittori bowed his head. Greco swallowed hard. Francesco raised both hands in quiet apology.
Bella burst into laughter. “The big bad mafia dons look like schoolboys who got caught stealing candy. If only your men could see you now.”
They all shot her death glares. She responded with a wide grin and finger waves.
Enzo sighed and reached out, gripping her hair painfully. “Behave!”
She pouted but became silent.
“This isn’t a regular job,” he said. “This is deep infiltration. Months of seduction, spying, eliminating threats quietly. No slip-ups. No blood trails.”
Bella’s smirk faded. “You mean a full cover? A new identity? Just how long is this mission to last?”
“For as long as it takes,” Enzo said gravely. “We need his vaults, his routes, his accounts. Everything. He’s dangerous in both worlds—the criminal and the public. He must die quietly, and only after we’ve stripped him bare.”
Bella looked away, brow furrowed. “That could take months. A year.”
Enzo nodded. “Yes. Or more.”
She hesitated.
So he reached out, stroking her hair like he used to when she was young. “Angioletta. I wouldn’t ask this of you if I didn’t need it. I’m asking this as a personal favor.”
Greco scoffed. “Since when do we ask whores for favors?”
Gunshot suddenly cracked through the room.
Greco screamed, clutching his bleeding arm.
No one moved as Enzo calmly placed the pistol on the table. “Do not talk to my daughter like that,” he said coldly.
Bella clapped gleefully. “You still got it, Papa. Even I didn’t see it coming.”
He chuckled, shaking his head at her. “You’re impossible. So what do you say?”
“I’ll do it,” she said, licking her bottom lip. “But for five times my regular fee.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “You money-loving brat.”
“You trained me to,” she said in a mock-innocent tone.
Greco groaned in pain as he tried to staunch his blood with a napkin.
Bella rolled her eyes. “Oh shut up, it’s a graze. Not like your arm’s gone.”
Enzo looked at her for a long moment. “You know they’ll kill you if I’m gone, right?”
She shrugged nonchalantly. “They can try.”
Then she stilled, her eyes narrowing. “You keep saying ‘Steel.’ As in… the infamous Steel? The youngest mafia head and the leader of one of the most deadly families in the country?”
Enzo nods solemnly. “Yes.”
Bella stood and began to pace, tension radiating off her. “That’s difficult, Papa. No one knows what he actually looks like, only his lieutenants. Everyone else does not live to tell the tale. Plus his people practically worship him; none will snitch or betray him.
Enzo nodded gravely. “Now you see why it has to be handled delicately.”
He picked up a file from the table beside him and handed it to her. “This is his profile.”
She opened it.
And there, on the first page, was a photo of the man who had just made her body melt the night before.
Alexandro D’Soto.
And for the first time in years, she didn’t know what the hell to do.