BURNING HOT

CHAPTER 11

STARING at the closed file on her desk, she placed her palm on it. She had engaged Sam in business discussions throughout their lunch, never running out of topics to cover. She realized how absurd it was to be afraid of opening a mere file, but within it lay the confirmation she was reluctant to accept. She slowly rubbed her knee and then tapped on the file. After a few minutes of this nervous ritual, she abruptly stopped and let out a curse.

"Damn it," she muttered, glancing at her wristwatch; it was a few minutes past five. After lunch with Sam at one of her family's owned restaurants, technically under her name, she had planned to visit two other offices for inspections. However, an emergency on their current project had called her back to her office.

With everything settled, Sam had reminded her to review the file and make a call. "Time is running out," he had emphasized.

As she pondered the file, a message appeared on her phone from her best friend, Grace.

"Hey, I'm back to the real world. Did you miss me? (winking emoji) I've got a fantastic tan now, you'd be so jealous. I've got loads of stories for you. Tell Sky I'll be seeing you guys tomorrow (lots of kisses emoji). And don't you dare tell Sam I'm coming; I want to see his head explode like the Fourth of July (with a smiling purple devil emoji)."

Grace was undoubtedly eccentric. This marked the third month without hearing from her, which wasn't an unusual occurrence. Her best friend had become an adrenaline junkie after a heartbreak years ago, embarking on risky adventures. However, she always returned with a few scars and a more toned physique. Ila couldn't help but chuckle. Grace's vibrant red hair, deep green eyes, and a stunning figure gave her a clear advantage. She couldn't wait to witness Sam's reaction when he saw Grace tomorrow, as Grace was one of the very few who could elicit a genuine reaction from him.

Returning to the file, Ila made up her mind to confront her fears. She opened it and immediately came across information about Matt. However, she didn't need that right now. What she sought was Al' Barone, and his pictures were the first things she encountered.

Even after eighteen years, she would recognize that face anywhere; he resembled his father closely, just as she remembered him from that fateful night in the dimly lit bar.

The man in the pictures was a far cry from the devilishly handsome eighteen-year-old she had allowed to seduce her. He now appeared rugged, muscular, adorned with tattoos, and sporting a distinct hairstyle.

The sensual, playful guy with a soft gaze and a captivating smile had transformed into an unyielding figure with ice in his eyes. What could have happened to extinguish that youthful glow?

She delved into the report and discovered that he had lost his father the same year they had met. He had married a woman five years older than him, but the reasons for their marriage and divorce remained undisclosed. A year later, they had a son, Matt.

She meticulously examined his legal businesses and the few uncovered by Kitty. That girl was exceptional. The report indicated that he had no record of remarrying after his divorce, and his social life seemed uneventful, except for his frequent travels and business endeavors.

It was apparent that he harbored a certain aversion towards women, and Ila couldn't help but wonder about the untold story behind it.

After all, it couldn't have been her, as he had eventually married someone else.

Contemplating calling her brother, she decided against it. Any hint of weakness might arouse Mael's suspicion and prompt her to reveal everything. It was a miracle that her family had respected her wish not to inquire about the father of her son.

Hiding behind her younger brother was not the solution. She perused the report, dialing the number Sam had provided as Al' Barone's personal line. The first two rings went unanswered. She was about to disconnect on the third ring when, to her relief, someone picked up.

"Hello. Am I speaking with Al' Barone?"

"Who's asking?" His voice, deep and cold, sent a shiver down her spine.

"Ila Ivanov," she replied firmly, refusing to repeat herself.

"Nice to finally hear from you, Ms. Ivanov."

His tone didn't match his words, shrouded in coldness. She wasn't even sure if he recognized her. Over the years, she had changed considerably from her eighteen-year-old self, just as he might have evolved since then. She had his younger pictures on her desk now, so it was possible he had seen her recent images.

"I apologize for not reaching out sooner, but everything has been a whirlwind. I'll get straight to the point, Mr. Barone. Your son has chosen to stay under my care until he finishes his studies and exams, which is in less than two months. He requested that I speak with you, given the complexity of the situation," she explained. As she stood from her desk and poured a glass of whiskey, she added, "But I believe we can find a way to make this situation work, Mr. Barone."

She took a gulp of the whiskey, its fiery burn down her throat contrasting with the scenarios she had imagined of meeting or talking to him after all these years.

"We don't know each other, Ms. Ivanov. How can you expect me to trust a stranger to safeguard my son's life when it's under threat?" His voice grew even colder, if that were possible, and bitterness seemed to taint his words.

"Let's speak more calmly, shall we?" She had her own temper, but now wasn't the time to lose it. She understood the persuasive power of her voice and had maintained a soft, composed tone, even though her mind screamed with frustration.

"Your son has been friends with my boy for months without any issues. Matt is already like family to us and needed help. He had already decided not to return."

"We had to persuade him to stay with us instead of being alone in a hotel, vulnerable. I had already made that promise before even knowing who his father was."

"And even now that you know, you still kept your promise?" There was something elusive about him, something she couldn't quite decipher. It was challenging to read a man over the phone with such controlled, icy tones.

"Like I mentioned, Matt is family. You can assist us by protecting him from your enemies or choose to become one yourself," she stated firmly, playing her cards.

"I have some conditions. If they're not met, I'll demand custody of my son as I see fit." He was cunning, playing the game.

"What are your conditions?"

"Kat will stay with him until the threat is eliminated. My man, Stark, will be involved in security protocols and have the final say on matters regarding Matt and Kat's safety."

The inclusion of Stark and Kat in this arrangement, with Stark having the upper hand, was a smart move. Sam wouldn't appreciate someone else approving his plans, and what if Stark's decisions led to a plan's failure? She mentally drafted a contract that wouldn't backfire on her.

"Agreed, Mr. Barone. I'll have the contract prepared and sent to your man, Stark, for review and signing."

"Then I'll keep in touch, Ms. Ivanov." With that, the call ended.

The call had gone better than she expected. She wasn't sure whether to be relieved that he didn't recognize or remember her or to be angry at herself for having thought that what had happened all those years ago meant more than just a moment of pleasure.

She pulled out her laptop, quickly outlining the terms she wanted in the contract and sent them to Kitty. Kitty would refine it and send it back to her. Then, she called Sam; it was time to go home.

Her body felt better, her legs no longer ached, thanks to the shot. Tomorrow was a weekend, and she had been swamped all week, not getting as much exercise as she'd have liked. It seemed she'd be leaving work early today, which meant she could prepare a delightful dinner and discuss her conversation with Mr. Barone with the rest of the family.

She could retire early and look forward to a restful night's sleep, preparing her body for the rigorous workout she planned for the next morning.

~°~°~•~°~°~

Ila swiftly moved aside just in the nick of time, narrowly avoiding the spear's deadly tip. When her friend had mentioned she was coming tomorrow, this wasn't exactly what Ila had in mind.

"You've become slow, Mami," Grace teased before swinging her spear so swiftly that Ila saw it coming but couldn't evade it in time. The spear grazed her between the ribs, forcing her back several feet. She struggled to regain her balance, wincing in pain. It seemed Grace was out for blood.

"Sky, tell me you're recording every second of this. I'll be bragging about this victory for a long time," Grace laughed, then turned her gaze to Ila. "Come on now, Mami, don't tell me age is catching up to you."

"Oh, that's it," Ila straightened herself, suppressing the pain in her side. Grace 1, Ila 0. She was determined to even the score, and then some. It was time for Grace to taste her own medicine.

Sky watched in amazement as his mom moved so swiftly that he could hardly keep up. Within a minute, she had crossed the room, grabbed her spear, and struck back at her best friend, landing a direct hit on her back just when Grace thought she had dodged the blow.

They observed as Grace tumbled to the mat, and before she could recover, his mom had her pinned to the ground.

"Now, this is entertaining," Sam chimed in with glee. Of course, he enjoyed this. The family had grown accustomed to the intense sparring between his mom and her best friend. Both had been trained by his grandparents since childhood.

Grace and his mom were more than best friends; they were closer than sisters. They shared everything, from their childhood memories to family photos featuring his mom's younger self with Grace and her distinctive red hair. Grace was practically a member of the family.

"That must have hurt a lot," Kat whispered beside him, and he couldn't help but chuckle.

"I think she might break her," Matt added, still captivated by the two women wrestling on the mat.

"Shouldn't someone stop them? Is this how they usually train?" Kat asked with concern.

"Oh, this is nothing. They're just practicing the Sōjutsu technique. You should see them when one of them needs to release pent-up aggression. They go at it hard and then console each other afterward," Sky explained.

They had all learned never to intervene when these two sparred. If you didn't want something broken or if you were an enemy, you might as well consider yourself defeated if these two joined forces.

The Sōjutsu, meaning the 'art of the spear,' was one of their favorite martial arts. It was almost comical how people thought his mom's walking stick was just that – a walking stick.

"I won't forgive you if you punch my face, Ila," Grace exclaimed breathlessly, protecting her face from another blow.

"If you wanted it soft, you shouldn't have hit my ribs. That still hurts like hell," Ila retorted, her legs still wrapped tightly around Grace as she delivered a final blow to her ribcage.

Everyone winced, and Ila released Grace, a smirk on her face. Grace let out a stream of curses that would make anyone blush.

"Ila, you cheater! That was harder than my hit. I think you might have broken something," Grace groaned. "Sam, darling, come help me up." Sky couldn't help but chuckle.

Sam's expression turned dangerously intense, his loose stance giving off a vibe of readiness. Sky chuckled again before Sam's deadly gaze locked onto him.

"Get up and stand your ground. We're not finished here," Ila called out. "Now, who's the one going soft and slow?"

~~~~~~

"Will you please tell me what's really going on, or are you going to keep pretending everything's fine?" Ila appreciated the privacy of the spa, given the current situation with the threat hanging over Matt.

They were currently in a private room, enjoying a relaxing massage from two skilled professionals.

Talking helped distract her from her worries. She sighed and whispered, "Allen," savoring the name like a long-lost treasure.

Grace couldn't help but tease, "Where did you run into him after all these years? I thought you were finally going to spill the beans about you and your bodyguard." Ila stifled a chuckle, knowing Grace would use a different word if they were alone.

Ila retorted, "You're incorrigible, Grace. This is serious." Her voice was low and slightly strained, as the heat in the room began to affect her. "Grace, what kind of massage did you book?"

"Only the most expensive package, of course. Why do you think we have these hunks attending to us?" Grace reassured her, knowing that their bodyguards wouldn't intervene.

The main purpose of the massage was to help Ila relax and allow the masseur to work on her injured leg without too much resistance. Knowing her friend well, Grace understood that Ila would never complain when her leg began to hurt again.

"Come on, just relax, Ila. Let them do their job, and tell me about Allen," Grace coaxed.

"Okay, but when I'm ready to leave, you won't stop me," Ila warned, thinking about how difficult it had been to persuade Sam to stay in the lobby.

"Sure, what did I expect when you have your very own sexy bodyguard waiting in the lobby," Grace mumbled.

As warm oil dripped down Ila's back, strong hands began to knead her muscles with just the right amount of pressure, instantly relaxing her.

"I didn't meet Allen, but I met his son, Matt," Ila disclosed.

"Matt?" Grace whispered in surprise.

"Babe, this changes everything. The moment Matt mentioned his father's birth name was Allen before he went by Al, my mind couldn't stop processing the information," Ila admitted, feeling her body loosen even though she should have been tense.

"You're so good at this," she complimented the masseur as he worked his way down her thighs and eventually to her injured leg, applying gentle pressure with the warm oil.

"They certainly are," Ila chuckled, knowing that if it weren't for the seriousness of their situation and Sam's warning, the room might have heated up much earlier.

Grace had always been wild, matching her fiery red hair.

Grace turned serious, saying, "Well, this is a serious matter, Ila. I've noticed the change between you and Sam, and I'm glad for it, even though it took you both long enough. It was obvious from the start that you two belonged together, but you allowed others to come between you."

Grace was right. Ila had harbored a crush on Sam since she was a child, and everyone had known it.

She had always staked her claim on him, ensuring no other woman came close.

However, as they grew older, Sam began to distance himself, eventually moving out of the main house into the cottage.

"When I spoke to Al," Ila's voice trembled as she recounted the encounter, "he didn't seem to recognize me. It was as if they had checked up on me, but when we talked on the phone, he still didn't recognize me."

"Damn that Italian Mafia jerk," Grace cursed under her breath, her eyes narrowing with anger.

She muttered something inaudible, but it wasn't her words that troubled Ila.

It was the fact that Grace shouldn't have known Al's true identity – neither his Italian heritage nor his ties to the Mafia.

"You already knew about Al?" Ila's voice quivered as she tapped the mattress impatiently. The masseur paused, and she pulled herself up abruptly, the towel forgotten in her urgency.

"Who else knows about Al?" Regret gnawed at Ila; she should have realized that her secretive family would never let her off the hook for refusing to reveal Sky's father.

She had confided in her best friend about that fateful night with Allen because Grace had been the one covering for her during her unexplained disappearance at the hotel.

Grace, too, sat up, her emerald eyes brimming with guilt. But before they could delve deeper into their conversation, the room was plunged into chaos.

The door burst open with a deafening crash, and they barely had time to react as a hail of bullets sprayed the room.

They were under attack.