Wrong Sister Claimed By The Mafia King

Four Days Later "You've got three seconds to talk. You sold the port codes to Anthonio, didn't you?" Jairo asked coldly, flicking his lighter to life. The man tied to the chair spat blood, sneering through a busted lip with defiance thick in his eyes. "Uccidimi e basta. Non mi tirerai fuori un bel niente, capo." [Just kill me. You won't get any damn thing out of me, boss] Jairo let out a low, amused chuckle. He loved this part. He ran the blade of his knife through the flame, the steel glinting red-hot. He brought it close to his face, inspecting it from the side as his gaze shifted back to the man. "That so?" he murmured. "Then you're useless to me." Without warning, the blade plunged into the man's throat. One swift, practiced motion. The man's body jerked violently, his eyes widening as the defiance in his eyes melted into sheer fear. Jairo watched, a slow grin forming. "I heard you've got a beautiful wife and a daughter," He twisted the knife, "I hope you remembered to tell them not to walk home alone... the moment you chose to betrayed me." He pulled the knife free, letting the man gurgle on his own blood. That was punishment enough. His face and shirt were soaked in blood now, but it didn't cool the fire building in his chest. He stood and stepped back, watching as the man gurgled and writhed. "You don't get an easy death," he muttered, letting the knife drop to the floor with a sharp clang. Wiping his hands on the man's shirt, Jairo stepped out of the basement, leaving behind the half-alive man. Donald was waiting for him at the top of the stairs. He handed Jairo a clean black shirt while his boss stripped off the bloodied white one. "Has she called?" He asked, buttoning up. Donald hesitated. "No, boss." The tension in the room shifted. Jairo's jaw twitched as the blood in his veins seemed to boil again. He had hoped she would reach out after the envelope. She wasn't dating anyone which brought him so much relief. Just a roommate and always moving from one job to another. He had already dug up every detail and learnt about her orphanage background, which disturbed him more than he expected. But he had no real reason to believe she wasn't the woman he fell for. Everything about her was like he remembered. Sending his business card was an indirect approach of having her number, asking for it was impossible. She would've shot him down. Donald studied his boss carefully. These past four days... he had been a storm. One mistake from any man was all it took for someone to end up bleeding. "I'm sure she'll call," He offered as they entered his study, hoping to bring him the tiniest relief. But a glass cup was flying in his direction the next second, shattering against the wall behind him. "That's what you fvcking said four days ago!" His eyes burned with rage. "Not even a damn message." The waiting was killing him. "I'm going to her. Fvck this waiting. I'm getting her myself." "And you'll scare her off." Donald stepped forward, his patience thinning. "She's mine." "She's normal, Jairo," He shot back. "Not some plaything who wants your money or your power. Hell, she's not even as flashy as the women throwing themselves at you every day." Jairo's eyes darkened, "Take that back." Donald raised his hand in surrender, "Sorry." The lady was beautiful - but plain. He hadn't worked for Jairo back then when she was dating Emilia. He walked to the bar to pour a glass of whiskey, and handed it to him. Jairo downed the whiskey in one gulp. His glare didn't waver. "I'll go with a job offer," Donald continued. "She's broke. She needs the money. But she's not desperate enough to sell her pride. She doesn't look like that type of girl. And we're lucky that your PA position is vacant." "We also need to be smart. We still don't know who took her or what they did. Rushing things might just warn them." Jairo didn't respond. His fingers twitched around the empty glass but the rage inside him quieted only slightly. He could still see her, crouched on the sidewalk, heels in her hand, fire in her voice. She didn't remember him. But he remembered every second, and he'd make her remember too. Just that the waiting was driving him insane. . . . . "And?" Lina asked, leaning over the kitchen counter, a teasing lilt in her voice. Kara raised a brow, confused. "And... what?" "And nothing? That's it? You just ran away after spraying him in the face?" Kara nodded slowly. "Yeah... I was scared. I thought he might hurt me or something for how I acted. So I panicked, okay?" Lina was in a suspiciously good mood that morning, to the point of making breakfast for them. Kara had taken that as a sign, that maybe her roommate was in a rare mood for an actual conversation. She decided to risk opening up. Lina tilted her head, flipping another pancake onto Kara's plate. "I get that, but... have you tried calling him?" She shook her head. "No. Why would I?" Lina frowned. "Girl, come on. You're broke. He's rich. Clearly obsessed. Handsome in a scary way as you've said. At least hear him out." "Lina, that's not funny." "I'm not joking. You got a free business card, and from what I saw, he meant business. You're sitting here eating my angelic breakfast and acting like you don't need a job. Do you want us both kicked out?" "This is insane." Kara groaned, burying her face in her hands. "What's insane is you not even trying. Just call him. We need to know what this is about." Kara's face paled a little. Her fingers tightened around the fork. "I-I don't know... it felt weird." Lina rolled her eyes, "You're overthinking it." She snatched Kara's phone off the counter and, before Kara could protest, pulled out the business card from where it was tucked beside the fruit bowl. "Wait, what are you... Lina, no!" Kara lunged, but too late. The number was already dialed. Her heart slammed into her ribs, the phone speaker ringing. On the second ring, the line went through.