A Dangerous Game of Love

NATALIA SEÑOR didn't consider herself to be a bitch, she was just honest.

Many people didn't see it that way but hey, that was their problem, not hers. It amused her to no end to bring out a person's worst qualities all by saying a few words. She guessed that's what got her into the position she's in right now. For her, things never seemed to fall into place and sometimes, if she was being completely honest, it made her bitter; some days she couldn't stand to look in the mirror. She reasoned that it was all a part of her fucked up life. Her phone buzzed, Fazio Malfitano's name flashed in the call ID and she sighed deeply. Duty calls.

Natalia stood tall and confident; her figure was as curvesome as a wave. Her black hair cascaded down her shoulders like a waterfall, framing her brown eyes that were as warm as a summer day. She was wearing a short white mini-dress that hugged her body like a glove, accentuating her toned legs. She exuded sensuality and grace; her every movement was as smooth as a panther's. Natalia walked down the plain dark halls in her silk satin white dress and red six-inch heels.

She didn't belong there, everybody knew that.

Sometimes she wondered why she was here.

Then she'd think of her sweet innocent little girlfriend, a dancer at one of the clubs, and know why. If it hadn't been for Marcus, her girlfriend would be dead and so would she. A few years ago, Natalia had been caught dating a cop. It wasn't that she didn't know Ashton was dirty, it was just at the time she didn't care. Love at first sight and all the shit. Things started to crumble shortly afterward, and Ashton called it quits but by then it was too late. Fazio caught wind of their relationship and he knew Natalia was trying to court one of the dancers she had a crush on. If it wasn't for Marcus, claiming he was her best seller and dancer, and that he couldn't do without her expertise on the business side then she did not doubt that Fazio would have killed her.

Strutting towards the door she knocked twice before entering.

"You rang?" She muttered sarcastically to the asshole sitting behind the desk, counting the money from the club's safe. Fazio Malfitano was a dangerous man. He was tall and imposing with muscles as hard as steel. His brown hair was slicked back, his eyes as dark as a moonless night. He had a scar, like a white lightning bolt, that ran down his cheek, adding to his menacing aura. He exuded power and danger, commanding respect with just a glance.

Fazio Malfitano lips curved. "I did."

"What do you want this time?"

He leaned back in his chair observing her. "You know that that snotty attitude is what got you in this position, to begin with, so, if I were you, I'd lose it, quickly."

Natalia matched his look, placing her hands on her hips.

"Good. Now, back to business... I need you to start pushing the cocaine."

"What?" Natalia asked, her eyes widening. "We-we already have too much, people aren't buying these days—"

"Well, make them," he said simply.

"I couldn't possibly," Natalia reasoned. "Everyone is working overtime as it is."

"Are you saying no?" The man said his voice dangerously low.

"Of course not," Natalia said coolly. "I just think we should be logical about this."

"You work for me, Mrs. Señor and unless you want that pretty little girlfriend of yours to have an unfortunate accident, I suggest you do as I say," he snapped.

"Fazio, please—"

"Please what?" He sneered.

"You can't ask me to go behind Marcus's back. He gave me strict orders—"

"Now, I'm giving you orders. And since my brother is far too weak to get things going, we have to do things a little differently," Fazio snarled. "Move the fucking cocaine. I don't want to hear any more about it."

Natalia held her breath, feeling frightful eyes pierce her body. "Yes, sir."

"Excellent," Getting up off his chair he moved to stand in front of her. "Here," he said, holding hundred dollars in his hand. "Some money for your troubles."

Natalia looked at it and knew the consequences if she didn't take it. Reaching out, she moved to grab it but Fazio dropped it on the floor. He smirked at her, obviously expecting her to pick it up. Gritting her teeth together, she slowly slid to the floor, snatching the money quickly.

"Once a whore, always a whore." He scoffed. "Now get out, go do something useful like spread your legs at that club you work at."

Curling her hand into a fist she gladly left the room.

If it wasn't for Marcus, she would have torn Fazio's face off, but if there was one thing, she was good at it was revenge. As long as she lived there was no way Fazio Malfitano was going to take over his father's empire.

Not if she had anything to say about it.

iIi

ASHTON COLE SLAMMED his fist against the desk.

It was the second dead-end witness this week. Growling under his breath, he tossed the case file back into the pile. It was a fucking waste of time trying to get anything to stick to Botticelli; he was slicker than a plastic bucket of grease. For three years Ashton had been trying to build enough evidence to form a case on Botticelli, but all of his leads either disappeared, were far too unstable or the evidence wasn't admissible in court.

"Where are you?" He snarled, staring at the large picture of Lucian hanging on his wall with various red marks showing his connection to illegal gang activity. There were so many things wrong with the reasons why Lucian was never caught. The drugs, the money laundering, gambling, and infrequent prostitution signs all pointed to him, yet Ashton couldn't prove a damn thing. Since the Botticelli's owned a legitimate business, ran a few restaurants down on the upper east side of New York, paid their taxes, and were upstanding citizens, there was nothing he could do.

Leaning back in his chair detective Cole needed to find some way to make these charges stick and be admissible in court. It was time to bring them down; Lucian was a low-life scum who deserved to rot in prison forever if he had anything to say about it. Picking up the disregarded file he read it over again, trying to see if he missed anything important.

"Cole!" His boss yelled storming into his room. Sergeant Sandra Cox appeared in his doorway, she was an older woman, and her beauty was ageless, with long gray hair pulled into a tight bun. Her features are sharp and defined, her eyes were as cold as steel, and her expression is ruthless and calculating. She leaned against the door jam, her body was lean and toned, and her movements are as precise as a sniper's. Ashton felt a chill run down his spine because despite her age, she exuded power and authority, her presence commanded respect and fear.

Fuck. What did he do this time?

"Yes, Sergeant Sandra," Ashton answered tiredly, not bothering to look at her.

"You are done."

His head snapped up. "What?"

"I'm pulling the plug on this case."

Ashton's eyes widened in shock. "But you can't!"

"I can and I will," Sandra said, placing her hands on her hips. "This has gone on long enough."

"Just yesterday some guy was assaulted in public by Botticelli—" Ashton paused. "Someone paid you off, didn't they?"

"Doesn't matter," Sandra smirked. "This is over and if you refused to follow my orders, I will have you suspended and your badge revoked. You need to drop the Botticelli case once and for all, got it?"

"You can't fucking do this to me!" Ashton roared. "I've dedicated three years of my life to bringing that motherfucker down!"

"Well," Sandra answered. "Now you can start focusing on other things...Like reconnecting with your lesbian ex-girlfriend Natalia? Or traveling, perhaps? I don't give a shit what you plan on doing, just stay away from this case. As far as you know, Botticelli is clean." She thundered out of his office slamming the door shut behind her.

For a moment Ashton just stood behind his desk wondering what the hell had just happened. Once again Lucian had fucked him over and was now working with corrupt police officers like the notorious Segreant Sandra Cox. After three years of working on this case, Ashton wasn't just going to let it go. No, he would do whatever it took to bring Lucian down, whether it was legal or not. Sitting down in his chair, he began to work diligently; the only way to beat Lucian was to play his game. Picking up the phone, he dialed number one for his secretary.

"Hello?"

"Get me the number for Marcus Malfitano."