Two weeks ago, I did extensive research on the Moretti like my life depended on it. Eliza Moretti. Mr. Moretti's daughter maybe. My assistant knocked on the door, while I was scanning the manila folder and facing the window–my life choices flashing before me.

"You find anything useful or do I have to strangle you?"

He gulped before answering, "Well, there is a girl in the orphanage and has been there since she was 2 I believe or when she was a baby..."

"So you're not sure?" I ask, whirling around in the chair—my face set in ice, not yet angry or satisfied with his answer.

He gulped again, as I regarded him with my cold stare. I've gotten compliments about how I look like my father. Dead ringer too. "If you can at least track her location.... I might consider not throwing your body in the ocean where no one will find it."

I threw the folder on the black desk—sleek and dark as I rose from my leather chair. He hesitated before nodding and rushing out the door.

**

She finally pulls me to the side after her class has ended to tell me. "Do you know who is sending me gifts?"

I shrug because that person is me. The person who wanted to shower her in gifts until she said she'll marry me.

I can't tell her that her family has a huge reputation and a bad reputation among the underworld so I say, "I'll try and find out for you Mia Cara."

I whispered in her ear, low and rumbling. "Cause your mine."

Defiance. That's what she has. Exactly like her father. Most people shiver when I'm near them but... she just looked straight into my eyes, face splattered with spots of paint.

For all anyone knew that could be blood for the way she's staring into my soul.

I smirked, because it amused me. My prey is making me, the hunter, feel as if I'm on the receiving end. She ducked under my arms, which was on either side of her head on the wall and was about to walk away. My quickness surprised even me.

She paused. Didn't turn. Just froze. There, in the middle of the hall. Stalking is for low-level gangs. What I do is extensive research. It's needed when you need leverage on a person.

They'll spill what they've done if you hold a bucket of their past over their head. Works every time. My grip tightened slightly when I could feel her slipping away. "Answer me first Mia Cara..."

"Stop calling me that... and why come here? You don't have a kid..." she said, looking somewhere far.

I tug her arm and her back slams into my chest—hard. Fresh paint and a faint rose aroma floated into my nostrils. I keep her close—tightly holding onto her. She won't leave me.

At least someone like her? She's my leverage. As she tries to get out of my hold I keep pushing the boundary, seeing how far I can take this.

"Your.... Holding me too tight... I can't breathe... let... go..." she said.

**

Even in the car, as I watched her go, her scent was fresh in my mind. I leaned my head against the seat, relaxing for a bit knowing I can meet her when I want to.

I order the chauffeur to follow her. She is walking. My woman doesn't walk. "Pull up near her."

When he questions me I say, "Did I stutter? Pull up next to her."

It almost came out a hiss. And he does what I ask, and pulls up next to her as I wind the window down to let the cool air in. "Get in, your feet... they'll hurt."

She looks at me like I've committed a sin and maybe I have. I know her name but I love to rile her up a little.

"I don't live that far...." she says, eyebrows narrowed to a point.

"I'll drop you off," I add, pointing my head to the interior of the limo. She huffs and before she can walk off I blurted it out, too desperate to lose my prize. "I know where you live."

I get out of the car, and grab her hand, pulling her toward me. "Get in or die in the streets."

"Is that a threat?"

Is that a threat, she asks. A deep rumble of laughter rolls out as I put my arm around her waist and push her inside. "Stay there..." I say before getting in myself. Shutting the door, I scoot closer to her, sliding my other arm over her shoulder–squeezing her closer to me, and my warmth.

She kept writhing but I kept my hold. And she keeps huffing. "Keep huffing all you want, you are mine and you know it."

Her eyes kept going to the bulge between my legs–like she might get away with using whatever method she wants to save herself. I see her father in those eyes–jaw tight, eyes cold. "Yeah you can suck me..... After we are married, Mia Cara."

Eliza Moretti looks away immediately.

**

After watching her disappear behind those doors, I didn't think I would see her again. Saint Mary Francis Orphanage–the place where they stifle creative children. What was she doing there? But the answer wasn't scribbled on the file. And it was not obvious either.

I will find it out by any means necessary. Taking her hand in marriage under his nose would do the trick.

Loosening my dark red tie, I stomped up the steps–a child who didn't quite get their way. The docks seem like the perfect place to get some answers.

One of the brother's is quite close with me so, maybe I can pry it out of him.

"Get my gun..... I'm gonna need it..." I say as I text the eldest son of the Moretti family.