Guilty Lover

New York, late at night. The streets are filled with steam from subways. Tall buildings, long roads, and huge buildings are straight, penetrating the smoke in front of us. The night wind is wrapped in drizzle, and the glass buildings reflect the light, gathering in a bustling crowd, and no one knows where to go. A red Bugatti is parked at the entrance of a dark alley, bright and flamboyant, like a ghost fire in the eerie night. Ava leaned on the hood of the car and lit a cigarette. "I won't dare to do it again, I really won't dare to do it next time," the crying man was bleeding from his nose, and his chest was wet, where she had just beaten him. The white mist spread from the pale lips in the cold air. Ava looked down at the man lying on the ground and squatted down. "I, I was wrong..." The man was so scared that he was incoherent and retreated repeatedly, "I really won't dare to do it next time." Ava didn't say anything, and took another puff of the cigarette in her hand, with the fire on her fingertips. She said "hmm" indifferently and leaned over. "Ah——" A shrill scream cut through the night sky. The man looked at the cigarette butt she had pressed on his arm and almost fainted from the pain. "Remember?" Ava asked. "Yeah," the man nodded, "Remember." "Then get out." She said, getting up and flicking the cigarette butt in her hand. The man ran away in a hurry. Ava didn't pick up the paper bag on the ground until she was sure he had run far away, and got up to tidy up her clothes that were messy because of the fight. "Ah~" A soft and sticky sound came from under her feet, and the hand that pulled the door handle paused. She lowered her head and looked at the stray cat she had rescued. I don't know if the gangster just now was drunk or just a p*****t. He squatted in the alley in the middle of the night and burned the cat with a red-hot cigarette butt. Ava searched her pocket and found a few band-aids and put them on the stray cat. "Ah~" I don't know if it found a sense of security from Ava, but the stray cat ​​seemed to be attached to her and refused to leave. Ava had to squat down again, patted its head, and said helplessly: "I can't take you away." "I can't even take care of myself now, how can I take care of you?" The kitten's ears moved, as if it understood. "Let's go," she said, "Don't be stupid and trust anyone in the future, understand?" The cat wagged its tail, stood up and walked away slowly. It was still very cold late at night in New York in March. The car soon became foggy, and the radio station was broadcasting the evening news. The female anchor spoke in a heavy tone. "...On the third anniversary of the terrorist attack on the Metropolitan Hall, citizens spontaneously went to the city center and were in the square..." The current disappeared in the rain, and after bypassing a few blocks, Ava parked the car outside the Galaxy building. The Gothic luxury apartment on the top floor was still brightly lit. An inexplicable boredom came over her, and she turned off the radio. A white face appeared in the rearview mirror stained by street lights. Thick feather eyelashes pressed down, blocking the misty black eyes. Although she had a delicate appearance, her flying eyebrows were inserted straight into her temples, adding a touch of coldness to her soft beauty. She took out the remaining wound patch to cover the bruise on her forehead, and lifted her black hair and tied it into a ponytail. This was injured at Yair's engagement party tonight. Thinking of the gang shooting, Ava felt a surge of anxiety in her stomach. As the bodyguard of Yair's fiancée, she knew a little about the background of this "underground arms king". On the surface, he is the president of the New York Loro Group, controlling most of the shipping market in the Americas; secretly, he also intervened in the international arms smuggling business and had great influence in the Americas, Africa, and the Middle East. Naturally, there are countless people who want to kill him. Of course, this includes the Nanno family who launched a raid tonight. Ava rubbed her head irritably, picked up the paper bag on the passenger seat and got out of the car. The man fell to the ground in response, and Ava picked up a vase from the decorative cabinet and raised her hand to hit the man's forehead. "Um..." The action froze in mid-air, she only felt her neck tighten, and the artery on the side was suddenly grabbed by a soft and cold thing-big and powerful, like a predator suddenly biting the neck of its prey. "Vito." The cold and indifferent voice made the tense mood drop to the freezing point in an instant. The man's voice was low, deep and powerful, bursting out from his chest, neither hurried nor slow. Just two words, with great force. The blond man on the ground was startled, and did not retreat immediately, but the hostility in his eyes was much less than before. No one made any more sounds, and the surroundings were so quiet that it was suffocating. Ava reacted and realized that the texture should be leather gloves. In a trance, the tall shadow came down, and the air around seemed to become heavier, so heavy that it was suffocating. The next moment, she was turned over by the man and pressed against the wall. Their eyes met, and the dark eyes with misty gray came over like clouds and mist, penetrating every hole, doubling the lethality, like an elegant leopard. By female standards, Ava is definitely tall. But facing this man, she seemed to be unable to reach his chin even if she stood on tiptoe. The clean smell on his body surrounded her - fir, sandalwood, ocean, reminding people of the land washed by heavy rain. "Miss Ava," he said again, "It was a misunderstanding just now. I'll let you go. Don't resist." The strong tone turned the explanation into an order. Ava nodded. The man then let go of her hand and took a few steps back. This time, Ava finally saw his appearance clearly. In the living room, there was a single lamp in front of the huge high-rise floor-to-ceiling window. The light flowed along his neat black hair all the way to the sharp lip and jaw line before stopping. The eye sockets were hidden under a few strands of hair on his forehead, indifferent and deep. Maybe the light softened his cold lines, Ava actually saw a hint of tenderness on his face. Black hair, black eyes, and exotic contours, with both oriental beauty and western handsome looks. But Ava remembered that the members and gang members of the New York Mafia were generally Italians, and there seemed to be no such mixed-blood with oriental features. Seeing Ava calm down, the man walked to the sofa in front of the window and sat down and said, "We have met before." "What?" Ava was a little confused. She couldn't remember where she had met him before. The man had no expression. He clasped his hands together, put his elbows on his knees, leaned forward, and the slightly protruding blood vessels on his forearms were clearly visible - he was clearly in a posture of wanting to talk, but with a surge of preparation for attack.