DON SALVADOR 1

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, mingling with the melody of an Italian song that danced through Alessia's apartment. As she bustled around the kitchen, sunlight peeked through the window, casting a warm glow on the scene.

On the counter, a simple breakfast awaited them: toast smeared with ricotta cheese and topped with vibrant cherry tomatoes. Just then, Leo, Alessia's son, padded into the kitchen, his hair a delightful mess and a toothbrush comically sticking out of his mouth.

"Good morning, sleepyhead!" Alessia chirped, a playful glint in her eyes.

Leo mumbled a greeting, toothbrush bobbing with each word. "Mmmmph, this stupid toothbrush tickles my gums."

Alessia chuckled, expertly dodging a spray of toothpaste as Leo spoke. "Maybe you should lay off the cookies before bed, then your gums wouldn't be so sensitive," she teased, winking.

Leo's cheeks flushed a rosy hue. "That wasn't just cookies!" he protested, a sheepish grin replacing his previous frown. The scene painted a picture of a loving morning routine, filled with warmth, laughter, and a touch of playful teasing.

After getting Leo dressed, Alessia hustled to serve breakfast. They sat together at the table, the simple meal now a warm and comforting ritual that marked the start of their day.

As Leo devoured his breakfast, Alessia disappeared into her room. A few minutes later, she emerged, a beautiful sight in a dress that embodied effortless elegance. The dress, a soft shade of lavender, flowed gracefully over her form, its delicate fabric catching the morning light. She carefully applied a lotion that left her skin soft and lightly scented, the delicate fragrance complementing the perfume she spritzed on her wrists. Finally, she slipped on her favorite bracelet, a silver chain adorned with a single aquamarine stone, a reminder of a cherished memory.

With a quick glance at the clock, Alessia realized time was ticking. She ushered Leo into the bathroom, the playful mood momentarily replaced by the urgency of the morning. A burst of laughter erupted from the bathroom as Alessia helped Leo get bathed, the sound a testament to their easy camaraderie.

Moments later, Leo emerged, a towel wrapped around his head like a turban. Alessia then helped him dress in his school uniform, a crisp white shirt and navy blue trousers. The finishing touch was a tie, a splash of color that brought a touch of formality to his youthful attire.

Rushing back to the table, Alessia squeezed Leo's cheek, her smile warm. "Alright sleepyhead, time for school!" she said playfully.

Leo, however, planted his feet firmly on the ground, folding his arms in a silent protest. "No," he mumbled.

Alessia stopped in her tracks, a puzzled expression on her face. "No? But school starts soon, honey."

"I want a haircut," Leo declared, his voice laced with determination.

Alessia sighed, a hint of exasperation creeping into her voice. "A haircut? But we just got your hair trimmed last week!" she exclaimed, wondering where this sudden demand was coming from.

Seeing his dejection, Alessia softened. "Alright, alright," she conceded. "How about we get you a haircut after school? We can even top it off with some dessert to celebrate?"

Leo's face lit up with a grin. "Deal!" he chirped, already bouncing out of his seat. "Just get my bag and lunchbox, okay?"

With a playful groan, Alessia muttered "testa dura" under her breath, the Italian phrase for "stubborn head." Nonetheless, a smile tugged at her lips as she hurried to get Leo's things ready.

With a quick peck on Leo's cheek and a hurried "ti amo" (Italian for "I love you"), Alessia ushered him out the door. As she was about to follow suit, a voice called out, "Miss Alessia?"

Alessia turned to see Ms. Rossi, Leo's teacher, approaching her with a warm smile. "Thank you so much for bringing Leo in on time today," Ms. Rossi said gratefully.

Alessia appreciated the sentiment, but a glance at her wristwatch sent a jolt of urgency through her. "Of course, Ms. Rossi. I wouldn't want him to be late," she replied, her voice laced with a hint of impatience. "He's a good kid, Leo is."

"Absolutely," Ms. Rossi agreed. "Though, there was a rather peculiar incident the other day..."

Ms. Rossi hesitated, then leaned in and lowered her voice slightly. "A strange man came by the school a few days ago, asking about Leo's whereabouts. He claimed to be his uncle, but I'd never seen him before. The odd part is, he insisted the headmistress not tell you about it."

A cold dread washed over Alessia. Her smile vanished, replaced by a mask of worry. "When was this?" she pressed, her voice tight.

......

As Alessia sped away from the school, a whirlwind of thoughts swirled in her mind. The news of the strange man sent a jolt of unease through her. Could Leo be unsafe? Was this somehow connected to Marcos, the man she desperately hoped to avoid?

A frown creased her brow. Returning to Italy had undoubtedly put her on Marcos' radar, but she had a purpose, a reason for taking this risk. Her secret partner, Azure Enterprises, had promised her and Leo's safety in exchange for her skills. Azure was the true reason behind her return, a front she hoped would shield them from unwanted attention.

While Alessia acknowledged the potential threat Marcos posed, her primary concern was completing her mission for Azure. The facade of Guerrilla working for the big-time firm like Azure Enterprises was a necessary deception. But with this new development, she couldn't ignore the nagging suspicion that Marcos might become a complication in her carefully laid plans.

Alessia's frantic thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a blaring horn and the screech of tires. She swerved sharply to avoid a collision with a sleek black car that had materialized out of nowhere. Her heart hammered in her chest, breath catching in her throat. The near-miss left her shaken, adrenaline coursing through her veins.

Her normally styled hair was now a mess, strands escaping their pins. Taking a moment to regain her composure, she stole a glance at the other vehicle. A well-dressed man in a sharp suit emerged, his face obscured by a haze of smoke and lingering shock.

He strode towards her car, his purpose evident. Reaching her window, he leaned down, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. With a knock, he gained her attention. Slowly, she lowered the window a crack.

"Scendi lentamente dalla macchina," the man said, his voice smooth as silk. "Il Don vuole parlare con te." (Get out of the car slowly. The Don wants to speak with you.)

******

The cherry red Bentley pulled up smoothly in front of the imposing glass and steel structure that housed Torre Enterprises. Isabella, a vision in a scarlet dress that clung to her curves like a second skin, stepped out of the car. Her dark brown hair, styled in loose waves that cascaded down her back, swayed with each confident stride as she made her way towards the entrance.

Isabella's outfit was a calculated choice. It was undeniably eye-catching, the fiery red a bold statement against the backdrop of the sleek corporate building. However, unlike the air of power Alessia exuded, Isabella's confidence leaned towards arrogance. The dress, though tailored, dipped low in the back, revealing a glimpse of creamy skin. Her stiletto heels clicked loudly against the polished marble floor as she sauntered through the lobby, each step exaggerated.

A hush fell over the room as Isabella entered. Receptionists exchanged knowing glances, their smiles strained. A young intern, fumbling with a stack of papers, practically tripped over his own feet as she passed, earning a withering glare and a sharp "Watch it!" Isabella seemed to relish the flustered expression on his face before turning her perfectly made-up face towards the elevators, completely ignoring the greeting offered by the doorman.

The elevator doors slid open, revealing a tall figure leaning against the back wall. A sardonic grin spread across Miguel's face as he took in Isabella's entrance. His eyes, a bright blue that contrasted sharply with his mane of fiery red hair, sparkled with amusement.

"What's so funny, Miguel?" Isabella demanded, her tone laced with annoyance.

Miguel chuckled, a rich sound that filled the confined space. "Just thinking, Isa," he drawled, using her nickname. "Maybe you should ditch the 'feisty intern' routine for today. It's getting a tad old."

Isabella hissed under her breath and turned away, her posture rigid. Miguel had been her bodyguard for the past five years, their relationship a strange mix of boss and confidante. He knew her better than most, and his teasing, while sometimes infuriating, often came from a place of genuine care.

Ignoring his comment, Isabella scrolled through her phone, a practiced indifference masking a flicker of self-consciousness. After a moment of silence, she glanced up, a sly smile playing on her lips.

"You look good today, Miguel," she said casually.

Miguel scoffed. "Doesn't matter," he muttered, but his gaze darted towards her for a brief moment, a hint of satisfaction flickering in his eyes.

Isabella knew better. "Oh, come on," she pressed, enjoying the predictable response.

"You secretly love compliments."

A slow grin spread across Miguel's face, the amusement back in full force. He turned her around, his hand brushing against hers, sending a jolt through her she quickly suppressed. Leaning in close, he spoke in a low voice, his breath warm against her ear.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Isa," he murmured, his voice a husky rumble. "Just making sure you don't forget why I have to babysit you."

Isabella slid away from his touch, a playful smirk replacing her feigned indifference. "Yes, yes, el guardaespaldas siempre vigilante," she teased, using the Spanish term for 'bodyguard' – ever watchful bodyguard.

The elevator doors chimed open, and Isabella stepped out, her head held high. Miguel followed behind, a silent guardian by her side. Despite their usual banter, a silent understanding passed between them. Beneath the facade of bravado and witty remarks, there was a loyalty that ran deep.

Isabella sashayed towards the receptionist, her scarlet dress swishing with each step. The young woman, barely out of college, paled noticeably at the sight of Isabella.

"Is my father gracing the office with his presence today?" Isabella inquired, a hint of amusement lacing her voice.

The receptionist stammered, "Y-yes, Ms. Torres. Mr. Moretti is on a call right now."

Isabella hissed under her breath, the amusement replaced by a flicker of annoyance. "Of course he is," she muttered before turning on her heel and striding towards the CEO's office.

Miguel lingered behind, a playful glint in his eyes as he regarded the flustered receptionist. "Don't mind Isabella," he said smoothly. "She just likes to keep everyone on their toes."

A blush crept up the receptionist's cheeks as she nodded meekly. Miguel winked, his red hair catching the light, and followed Isabella into the office.

The mahogany door swung open silently, revealing a spacious office dominated by a large oak desk. Mr. Moretti, a man whose stern features mirrored Isabella's own, sat behind the desk engrossed in a phone call. He looked every part the powerful head of a vast empire, his bearing a testament to years of wielding control.