The Demon’s Claim

Saskia entered the room, her face twisted in distaste. "Odie, you added way too much salt in the food. It taste horrible," she said, making a face as if the taste still lingered, earning a glare from Odetta..

Just then, her phone buzzed with a text from him. "Lunch at my house?" His message read.

Her face lit up as she showed it to Saskia.

"Who's that?" Saskia asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"No one," she teased.

Saskia giggled. "Don't lie! Who's making you smile that if not Cassiano De Luca?"

Odetta confessed, "I'm going to his house for lunch."

Saskia squealed, excited.

Odetta breathed a sigh of relief as Saskia didn't mention the awkward encounter from yesterday - when Saskia walked in on her unbuckling Cassiano's belt, Odetta's face flushed with embarrassment. Thankfully, Saskia chose to ignore the incident.

Odetta styles herself for the visit to Cassiano's house, exuding confidence and elegance. She wore a sumptuous burgundy silk top, it's delicate straps accentuating her curves and subtly spilling over her bust. Her outfit was completed by flowing grey pants, elegantly draped to fit her waist, cinched with a small tiny black belt. A matching grey jacket and black Jimmy choo heels elevated her ensemble, while a sleek black Elysée bag, one of her own designs, completed her polished look.

As Odetta prepared to leave, for Cassiano's house, Saskia's knowing glances made her squirm. But her friend remained tight-lipped.

"Have fun, Odie," Saskia said with a sly smile.

Odetta rolled her eyes grabbing her black shades. "I'll see you later."

At Cassiano's mansion, as they finished their lunch, he suggested a stroll around the property.

"Shall we take a walk?"

Odetta's eyes sparked. "I'd love to."

They walked through the French doors, stepping onto the expensive patio. The warm sunlight bathed the lush gardens, casting vibrant shadows across the manicured lawns.

Cassiano's expensive house left her in awe. "Your home is stunning," she said, imagining how his Italian villa must be.

"Why did you leave Italy for NewYork?" She asked.

"For business," he replied concisely, his expression hinting an untold stories.

As they strolled, Cassiano pointed out various features: a tennis court, a private pool, and a picturesque gazebo. She listened intently, admiring the meticulous attention to detail.

Her eyes widened as they walked towards the opposite side of the stable, where a sleek lineup of motorcycle gleamed.

"Wow, you have an impressive collection,"

She exclaimed.

"I enjoy the thrill of a ride."

Odetta approached a shimmering black bike, running her hand over its curves. "This one's beautiful."

"That's my favorite," Cassiano says. "Want to take it for a spin?"

She raised an eyebrow, "Can you ride it?"

"Of course, I can. Hop on."

Odetta's heart skipped a beat as Cassiano handed her a helmet. She put it on, feeling a rush of excitement.

Cassiano straddled the bike, kickstarting the engine. Odetta swung her leg over, settling behind him.

"Wrap your arms around me." He instructed.

Odetta's arms encircled his waist, her body pressed against his. As they sped off, she squealed with delight.

"Yayyyyyy! Whoooohoo!!" She shouted, her laughter carried away by the wind. She stood up, holding Cassiano's shoulders for support, her long hair streaming behind her. With a playful grin, she removed her black jacket and raised it above her head giggling.

The jacket flew away, lost in the distance.

"Oops!" Odetta exclaimed, while Cassisno chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Gift," he teased.

They both burst into laughter, the thrill of the ride and the carefree moment intoxicating.

The joyful laughter was abruptly shattered by the sound of gunshots.

"Porca miseria!" (Damn it!) Cassisno cursed in Italian, his expression darkening.

Odetta's eyes widened in terror as she hastily sat down, clinging to his shoulders.

"What the heck was that?" She gasped.

In a swift, fluid motion, Cassiano dragged Odetta to the front of the bike, her face inches from his.

Odetta's arms wrapped around Cassiano's waist, her cheek pressed against his chest.

"Who's shooting?" Her voice was tight with fear. "Is it crazy fans?"

This street belonged to him - or rather, to his family's vast empire. Only those with explicit permission were allowed to enter, and even then, they were closely monitored.

"It's not some crazy fan," he muttered. "This street is off limit to everyone except…." He trailed off as he focused on evasive maneuvers.

Just then, a bullet whizzed past their heads, barely missing them. Cassiano felt Odetta's grip around his waist, as they both caught a glimpse of the projectile out of the corner of their eye.

The gunfire intensified, bullets whizzing perilously close.

"Check my pockets," Cassiano yelled above the din. "There are guns on each side."

Odetta hesitated for a split second before reaching into Cassiano's jacket pockets. Her hands closed around two pistols.

Cassiano's eyes met hers, his gaze locked on the motorcycles closing in behind them. He could take out their pursuers with ease, but Odetta's presence stayed his hands.

He couldn't risk her getting hurt.

Odetta's eyes darted between the pursing motorcycles and Cassiano's face.

"What's going on?" She screamed, "And why the fuck do you have guns with you?"

"Shoot!" Cassiano yelled, his voice urgent.

"But…..I've never used a gun before!" Odetta protested, her hands trembling.

"Just do it, or we'll get killed!" Cassiano shouted, expertly maneuvering the motorcycle.

He guided her hands, instructing her how to hold the pistol and pull the trigger.

Her soft breast pressed against Cassiano's face as she leaned back, her arms extended. He tried to focus on the road, but the closeness was distracting.

Not now. He reminded himself, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

With a deep breath, Odetta squeezed the trigger. The pistol's report was deafening, but she continued firing.

Cassiano's eyes flicked to the rear view mirror. Their pursuers were falling back.

"Keep shooting!" He encouraged.

"They're too much!" She exclaimed, as the guns clucked empty.

The pursuers closed in, surrounding them. Cassiano expertly maneuvered the bike, but they were outnumbered.

Cassiano killed the engine, and swung his leg over the seat, standing protectively in front of Odetta.

"Who are these people?" She whispered.

"What do you want?" Cassiano demanded, his eyes scanning the group.

The apparent leader, a burly man with a scar above his left eyebrow, sneered.

"We want the girl, Marvelia." He growled, his gaze fixed on Odetta

Odetta's brows furrowed in confusion as she stared at the man. Marvelia? That wasn't her name. They had to be mistaken.

Cassiano stepped forward, his jaw set. "You're mistaken. She isn't Marvelia, or whoever it is you're looking for."

The attackers conferred in hush tones. The bald-headed man turned back to Cassiano.

"Don't play dumb. We know she's Marvelia. The description match, and our sources confirm it.

Odetta's confusion turned to alarm. Who was Marvelia, and why did these men think she was her? She shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs. "I don't know what you're talking about. My name is Odetta, not Marvelia."

"Save it, we're not buying it. You're coming with us." The bald head man sneered.

As the man reached for Odetta, Cassiano's hand shot out, grasping his wrist. With a swift twist, Cassiano sent the attacker crashing to the ground.

With lightning-fast reflexes, Cassiano dodged a punch from another attacker and countered with a swift kick, sending him crashing back.

But one of them got too close. Odetta screamed as Cassiano leapt in front of her, taking the bullet meant for her.

She gasped, horrified.

"Cassiano!!!"