The Mafia’s Dangerous Love

Elena's POV The aroma of freshly brewed coffee was on the go as soon as I opened the glass door of the café. I visited here on Thursdays after the working hours and today was no exception. Still, there was a certain sense in which today was not quite right. There was an unidentifiable tension in the air that made it difficult for me to pin point and identify. I walked to the counter and began to tap my foot while waiting to order a cappuccino as I always do. The barista, Carla, looked at me and smiled. I never had to speak my mind because she always had this inherent understanding of what I desired. But today, before she could call my name, the door behind me opened with a loud ring and I immediately turned around. That’s when I saw him. He was tall and autocratic even when he merely leaned against the door. But there was something weird about him. His charcoal black suit hugged his broad shoulders well and his hair was combed back neatly and the dark sunglasses masked most of his face. But he had a kind of energy, or power, or whatever you would call it – all of which was far too much for a café like this. It created a wave across the room. Others looked up apprehensively and people stopped talking. I found myself stare at him as much as I could, even though my instinct was telling me not to. He looked like a man of the world, a man who lived in a different stratosphere than I did. Still, I had to look at him, there was something in him—an aura of control, authority—that made me interested in him. But that’s when he caught me staring. His lips quirked into a half-smile which said, ‘I know what I am doing.’ My face went red and I immediately moved back to the counter. I should not be looking at him. Those sort of people—those sort of men—were nothing but trouble. "Your cappuccino, Elena." Carla’s voice interrupted me. I smiled at her and thanked her for the drink and then proceeded to pay. My heart was still pounding with the look from the stranger, so I quickly found a little table in the corner of the window. The noise in the café resumed but the tension of before was still palpable. I tried to shake it off. But once more, as soon as I placed the cup to my lips, I sensed an alteration once more. This time, it was closer. I glanced up and saw him at the end of the table, standing over me, his shadowy figure. “Do you mind if I sit here?” His voice was powerful, resonant, but even had that commanding tone about it. I stared when he stepped closer to me and I felt my heart rate quicken. I paused for a moment, but a voice in my head told me to accept it. “Okay,” I whispered weakly. He opposite me, everything about him seemed deliberate, controlled. He looked much scarier at close range. His jawline was chiseled, he was tanned, and when he pulled off his sunglasses, his eyes were gray storm clouds that threatened to unleash the devil. "What’s your name?" His question was blunt, and, with his eyes locked on mine, I had the feeling that he didn’t suffer fools gladly. “Elena,” I answered, and my voice could hardly sound steady. “Elena.” He said my name like it was a new word he’d learned and needed to practice saying out loud. “I’m Matteo.” There it was. The point where everything will shift and a whole new chapter of my life begins. Matteo. It felt like the name of something I should be running away from – something that should scare me. But instead I remained in the chair, my pulse rate increasing with each passing second. “I’ve seen you here before,” he went on. “You always sit here and observe the people go by,” I swallowed hard; the heat of his words had a hidden meaning, I thought. Why would a man like him bother to notice a girl like me? It was unreasonable, illogical, there was no rhyme or reason to it. He was much, much out of my league—in more ways than one. “What do you do, Elena?” His voice brought me back to reality and asked for an answer. “I, uh… I work in marketing,” I said. “Just graduated, actually.” He nodded although he clearly had no interest in my work. But there was something else in his mind. He looked at me for a while, and I felt my butterflies dancing in my stomach. I should’ve excused myself. I should have gotten up and left. But instead I said to him, “And you?” What do you do?” He raised an eyebrow and smirked before turning to look back at the screen. “I’m in business.” Of course, it was a very general answer, but the tone, the way he said it and how his eyes looked a bit darker made me shiver. But his “business” was nothing like mine. I did not know where he was from, but I was quite aware that he was not an ordinary man in any sense of that word. My phone rang at the precise moment that I was about to say something in my defence. I glanced down—my dad. I immediately switched it off but Matteo seemed to have noticed. He tilted forward a little, his gray eyes boring into me with a sudden intensity that was almost uncomfortable. "Important?" he asked. I shook my head. “No, just my dad.” But what was ever between us now was there, a thick silence that made the air between us crackle with energy. I was standing on a cliff edge again, looking down at a world that was not mine. But there was something that made me move closer to Matteo. Despite every fibre of my being telling me to run a million miles away from him, I was interested in him. But before I could question him further, the door to the café opened once more. This time, two men entered the room and both had this feral look in their eyes and set jaws. My heart stopped for a moment as they focused on him, and I saw the Malvina brothers approaching Matteo. One of them was a tall muscular man with a scar running down his cheek and across his lip. "Boss, we need to go." Boss? Matteo scowled and got up from his chair without saying anything to us. His actions were graceful but he exuded confidence. The men were stiff, expecting him to say something. Before he left, Matteo looked at me and for the briefest second there was a tenderness in his gaze. “Elena,” he said and, “We will meet again.” And then he was gone, I was sitting there, shocked and shaking, my thoughts running wild. My heart raced against my chest as he walked out the door with his men. Who was this man? My phone rang the second time and I snapped out of the reverie. I took it and read the message from my dad. We need to talk. It’s important. I breathed out heavily, a feeling of disbelief starting to dawn on me. But before I could even think what just happened, I saw something on the floor near the table—something glinting and metallic. A gun. My heart stopped. Matteo had dropped a gun. I gaped at it, vaguely stunned. My hand shook as I stretched it out for it but I pulled it back. This was insane. This wasn’t my life. But it was now. And that was enough for me to realize that I was already tangled in whatever world Matteo was in. I could still feel the cold metal of the gun beneath the table and I slowly got up when the phone rang again. It was my dad. The message was clear this time: Elena, do not get close to Matteo De Luca.