Mafia King's Fatal Lover

New York, late at night. The streets are filled with steam from the subway. Skyscrapers, long roads, huge constructions pierce through the dark blanket of the smoky night. The Night Wind carrying drizzles, glowing in the glass window like the scattered pearls by way of the reflection of light. The usual busy street - all the hustle and bustle of nocturnal activities. And it is hard to know where they go. A Red Bugatti was parked in the dark alley, like a spooky night of ghostly fire. Elektra leant on the hood of the car and lit a cigarette. "Sorry, sorry, really…”the man cried with a nosebleed. Some stains were on his t-shirt, which was a sure sign that she just beat him The white fog spread from the pale lip, then vanished in the cold thin air. Elektra lowered her head to see the man who was lying on the ground, then squatted down. "I, I’m sorry..." the man lost his words all of a sudden, only repeating, “There will never be next, I promise.” Elektra remained silent, just taking a puff in her hand. A flame sparkled in her finger-tip.  She gave a nonchalant "Um" and leaned over. “AH——” A mournful scream pierced the night sky. The man looked at the cigarette she pressed on his arm and almost fainted from the pain. “Remember?” Elektra asked. “Yes, yes!” The man nodded. “Got it.” “Then get the hell out of here.” she said, getting up and flicking the cigarette butt out of her hand. The man ran away with a wet pant. Elektra picked up the paper bag on the ground, got up to clean her clothes which had been crumpled because of the fight. “Uh…” A soft voice came from her feet. The hand pulling the handle paused.  She lowered her head and looked at the puppy that she had just saved. Minutes ago, it was a hooligan, either drunk or just purely abnormal, squatted in the alley, burning the puppy with red cigarette butts for fun. Elektra searched out a number of band-aids from her pocket and put them on the back of the puppy. “Uh…”  The puppy purred, as if it found a sense of security from Elektra. It seemed to be tied to her, refused to go. Elektra had to crouch down again, patting its head, said reluctantly, “I can't take you with me." "How can I take care of you when I can't even take care of myself?" The puppy's ears twitched. It was somehow an understanding. “Go." she said. "Don't be a fool to trust anyone, OK?" The puppy wagged its tail and got up, walked away slowly. It was late at night in New York in March and the temperature was still low. The car soon fogged up, and the radio station was broadcasting the evening news.  The anchorwoman's tone was woeful. "... on the second anniversary of the terrorist attack on the Metropolitan Theater, New Yorkers went to Lincoln Center on their own initiative, in the square..." The electricity dissipated in the rain. Turning through a few blocks, Elektra parked her car outside the Pinnacle building. The Gothic penthouse was still brightly lit. An inexplicable fidget hit her. She turned off the radio. From the rear view mirror halo-dyed by street lights, a pale face appeared. Her thick eyelashes were pressed down, blocking her misty black eyes. She was comely pretty, but her eyebrows were straight into her temples, adding a feel of coldness to her grace. She fished for the remaining Band-Aid to cover the forehead bruises, which was obtained at Abel Hill’s engagement party tonight, and lifted up the black hair, tied a ponytail. Thinking of the gang shooting, Elektra felt a burst of apprehension in her stomach. As a bodyguard of Abel Hill's fiancee, she knew a thing or two about the Kingpin of Munitions. On the surface, he is President of the Navoi Group in New York, which controls most of the shipping market in America. But underground, he's involved in international arms smuggling in America, Africa, and the Middle East. There are numerous assassins who want to kill him. The Nano family that launched the raid tonight is one of them. Elektra rubbed her head irritably, picked up the paper bag on the co-pilot’s seat, then got out of the car. The express lift stopped on the 50th floor. When the door slid open, a cold light flooded in. The apartment seemed different. This was an apartment Abel gave his fiancee Wendy Evans as a token of the engagement. She lived here with Elektra for a few months. Few people would visit, Abel Hill being no exception. He never came for once. But today... Elektra lingered on until she reached the sofa in the living room. Eyes fell on the dark grey man's coat. Someone was here. Wendy was new in New York without any close friend, let alone a man. The picture of Nano family’s killers shooting at the engagement party sprang to Elektra’s mind. She was so strung up that it was palpable to her feeling and the nerve. She slowed down the processing, trying to regurgitate the situation. An unfamiliar breath approached from behind, Elektra lowered her head, and saw a tall shadow coming over her. The flash of lightning, engraved in the vein let Elektra immediately strike back. With a muffled sound, the man fell to the ground with a groan from his throat. Brown hair, blue eyes, clean and sharp lines, typical of a Caucasian.  He is tall and strong, wearing tuxedo. The man’s right hand has thin cocoons on the second and third fingers and now it is in Elektra’s fist. Those are marks left by years of gun-toting. No one in New York, except a Mafia member, has this clear-cut identity. Double take over. The captured man reacted. By a forceful twist suddenly, the man took the advantage of height and physical strength. The man thrown to the ground quickly launched a counter-attack. The fist was lightening fast and dense, like the wind blowing hard with hails coming down. Elektra could not meet him head-on, but tried to dodge the deadly blows by flexibility. She was ninja fast, like a slippery fish. Change happened in a second. The man lifted his strong forearm, and suddenly changed direction straight to Elektra’s neck!  “Ka!” It was the snap of the teeth. With the flash of Cold Light, a shadow flashed from the wall, and the hand rushing to Elektra’s neck froze. She moved so fast that the guy did not notice how she ducked to avoid a blow, and kicked his jaw at the same time.  “Damn...” He was definitely out of patience. After the metal “Click”, the gun was loaded. The man covered his mouth with two steps back. But his gun was kicked away by Elektra. He fell to the ground. Elektra then picked up a vase in the cabinet and threw it at the man's forehead. The move froze in mid-air. There was a feeling of tight softness in her neck. A cold thing snapped against her artery; so powerful, like a predator swooping down at the neck of its prey. “Vito.” With a cold and indifferent voice, the tenseness suddenly dropped to the freezing point. The Man's voice was low, deep and powerful, which came out of his chest, unhurried. Only two words, but the power was tangible. The Blond Man on the ground was startled. He didn't back off immediately, but the hostility was much less in his eyes. No single word was from either of them. The silence was stifling. Elektra realized suddenly that the texture should be leather gloves. In her trance, the tall shadow closed down, as if the air became heavy. Heavy enough to suffocate Elektra.  The next moment, she was turned over by the man, back against the wall. Their eyes connected.  Elektra saw a pair of dark eyes with a hazy foggy look, all-pervasive, lethal, like an elegant leopard. By female stature, Elektra was definitely not tiny. But when facing this man, she needed to stand on her tiptoes to reach his chin. A clean smell of him came round: fir, sandalwood, ocean, reminiscent of the land washed by the storm. “Miss Garner,” he said, “It was a mistake. I let you go, don't resist.” It was a strong tone that turned explanation into command. Elektra nodded. The Man released his grip on her, and stepped back. With his retreat, Elektra finally saw his face. In the drawing room, a solitary lamp stands in front of a huge ceiling-to-ceiling window. The light flows down from his crisp brown hair to his sharp jaw line. The eyes hide in wisps of hairs on the forehead. He looks indifferent and mysterious.  The light probably softened his cold lines. Elektra saw gentleness in his face. Dark brown hair, brown eyes, and exotic silhouette, both Nordic and Mediterranean appearance. And just now, his pronunciation of the word “Elektra” was so received that he didn’t sound so much like the native English speakers. Mixed race. But Elektra remembered that the members of the New York Mafia are generally Italian. There doesn’t seem to be such a mixed one with Nordic characteristics. Seeing Elektra beginning to calm down, the man walked to the sofa in front of the window, and sat down. “We have seen each other before.” “What?” Elektra’s brain got a bit muddled, and seemed to have lost the memory of their meet-up completely. The man was deadpan. With his hands clasping, he rested his elbows on his knees, then leaned forward. The slight bulging veins in his forearms were visible. That was a gesture which intended to communicate, but with a surge of readiness to attack. Elektra became a little bit nervous. She pulled the jacket on her body. “We met at the engagement party tonight.”  Before she could respond, the man spoke again. Tonight, the engagement party, they met... Elektra surprised. So he is  Abel Hill.