Page 2 of Arturo's Temptation

“How’s your morning been my little diamond?” My father beamed as he relaxed behind his desk, his fingers skated around the rim of his coffee cup.

“Cut the crap, Pa. What’s going on?” I folded my arms and raised one eyebrow. My father’s smile faded as I patiently waited for him to explain.

“What? I can't inquire about my daughter's mornings anymore?" He asked, leaning forward so his forearms rested flush on his desk.

“Of course, but you seem a little unsettled.” I replied as he smiled crookedly at me. We could both read each other like a book. Up until now, there had never been any secrets kept between us. I may not ask questions about the business but I was under no illusions as to what kind of man my father was and what he was capable of. “Papa, come on, I know you’re itching to say something.”

“I hate that you can read me as well as you do, Bells.” His brows furrowed as he let out a deep sigh and I knew it was something that was a struggle to say.

“I don’t think you do, now spill.”

“It’s Luca.” He swallowed and rubbed the side of his jaw. His eyes closed on an exhale as he struggled to get his words out, something that was unusual for my father.

“What about Luca?” I asked, all of a sudden feeling dread in the pit of my stomach.

“He’s stepped aside.”

With those three words, my entire world had come to a halt. It felt as though my heart stopped as I waited for my brain to process what my father had just said. I had known my brother was struggling recently with dividing his time between working with my father and taking care of his son, Theo, but I had never contemplated him even thinking about stepping aside. There was nobody to take his place.

“I’m sorry… What do you mean he’s stepped aside?” With a plonk, I dropped into the plush chair opposite my father. A sea of mahogany between us.

“He wants to put his focus back on Theo, which I cannot argue with. Theo needs his father just as much as Luca needs him. Luca hasn’t had the time to grieve Peyton the way he should have. Don’t you agree?”

My father’s eyes swarmed with a storm of emotions. I swallowed and looked down at my hands. The death of my brother’s fiancée had hit our family hard, but it had devastated my twin. He and Peyton had been high school sweethearts and no matter our family’s reputation Peyton adored Luca. The moment they found out they were pregnant with Theo was life changing. Well, that was until life had other plans for them, ones that didn’t involve a happily ever after.

“Bella, I said, don’t you agree?”

“Sorry, yes, I agree.” I shook my head, pulling my thoughts back to the here and now. “Okay, so I guess you’ll have to speak with Andre. He’ll have a lot of work to do to fill Luca’s shoes, but I’m confident he can do it.” Not waiting for a response, I gave my father a nod before standing and heading for the door.

The moment my hand grasped the door handle my father spoke. “It’s you, Bella.” His hushed words sliced into me, worsethan any knife ever could. I blinked and tried to halt the bile rushing up from the base of my stomach. The doorframe swam as I felt the walls closing in on me. My breath rushed into my lungs with quick little bursts as I realised my father was still speaking. “I know this isn’t what you envisioned, but you will take your brother’s place.”

Like hell I would.

2

Friday,30th March, 8:31pm

You never get over losing someone you love.

Trust me, I knew all about it.

I witnessed it. First with my father, then my mother.

Life’s was a bitch, right?

Yeah, you might go on livin’, eatin’, and fuckin’ your way through the years, but that shit doesn’t get any easier.

I mean how could you ever get over watching the life drain from your mother’s eyes? Or watching the smile that used to brighten up the darkest of days suddenly fade away into nothing?

That’s what happens when you mix with the wrong crowd. It always ends in pain, blood, death, and destruction. Thing is, I never bent the rules as a kid. I was always top of my class: A+ material. Shit, despite being a poor motherfucker I was even popular. My teachers used to say I was like a walking, breathing calculator on top of being an encyclopaedia. My marks never slipped, well… until the day that they did. The day my father received his diagnosis was the day everything changed. I was mad. Mad at the world. Mad at my dad. Mad at everyone. Thatwas the day I became friends with the one and only Frank Hamilton, heir to the Hamilton estates, the biggest and most renowned criminal organisation in the whole of the UK. They had their fingers in so many pies, you couldn’t tell who they had in their pocket. Considering his family’s notorious ongoings, that kid, Frank Hamilton, was born with a fucking silver spoon in his mouth. He basically slept on a mattress of cash, and he was a malicious bastard.

We were complete opposites, in that he had everything while I had nothing. But the moment I embedded myself in his inner circle, that changed. I made more cash than I knew what to do with. But no matter how loaded my pockets got, my father's health still deteriorated quickly. The day he died I buried myself further and further into Frank’s father’s dodgy business dealings. And to my shame, when my mum needed me the most, I was barely ever home.

I could say I regret the decisions I made. I could admit I wish Frank’s father hadn’t taken me under his wing. But that’d be a lie. Thanks to him, and six years of painful, meticulous training, I’d become one of the best damn assassins the crime underworld had ever heard of. Now, if I still had a heart, I might have been scared about the amount of lives I took. But it was all too easy. There was never any guilt.Job’s a job, innit?Each disgusting soul I tossed into the ground made my pain less. The only thing I gave two shits about was my mum and making sure she was taken care of. I had hated watching her slave away through countless jobs just to make sure we had food on the table. So when it came down to it, I took the lives of the ones who’d wronged the Hamiltons and in return me and my mum lived an easy life. The best part was, I didn’t mind it. In fact, I rather enjoyed it… after the first ten or so anyway.

I can still remember my first kill like it was yesterday. My hand was shaking like no one's business when I pressed myblade up against his exposed neck. Each inch the blade opened, blood seeped out onto the guy’s tattered, sweaty shirt, making him more of a mess than he already was. We’d put him through hell leading up to that. I watched Frank’s father torture that poor sod until his gut-wrenching screams stopped and all that was left of him was a pool of begging misery, sobbing for us to end his pathetic, lonely existence. His body was so beaten, bloody, and bruised he was barely recognisable. And the whole time we worked, my best friend, Frank, just sat back and grinned that sinister smile I have no doubt he inherited from his father. Me though? I had to fight the urge to spew my guts out at the quivering guy’s feet.

I remember watching the bastard's body pulsate in the rickety wooden chair, with his head flopped lifelessly back like a dead fish. My mouth tasted of battery acid, and my head throbbed so badly I thought I’d pass out. But I wouldn’t show weakness to the Hamiltons… I had more sense than that, even at sixteen. I had to show them I was to be taken seriously and from that moment on,I was.

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