Amara is in the middle of a light slumber. I gently brush away a strand of hair that's strayed onto her cheek, and a smile graces my lips. She's peacefully puffing away in sleep, and it dawns on me that she's the only one capable of putting such a genuine smile on my face.

Admittedly, I might have pushed her a bit too far last night, especially considering it was her first time. But, truth be told, she would've climbed on top of me if I'd stopped. I decide to let her sleep until we reach the shop.

My hand slips into her front pocket, intertwining with her lifeless left hand. Fragile and slender fingers, easy to break. I pull my hand back, letting her sleep undisturbed. As we enter the city, I reluctantly conclude that I have to wake her up. I resist the decision until I park in a lot near some familiar shops.

I glance at her, sleeping so peacefully.

"Bittercandy, wake up," I whisper, fully aware that she won't wake up with such a gentle approach.

Sigh… waking her up is the last thing I want to do. Checking the time, it's around 12 am, and I decide she can sleep until 1 pm.

Unlocking my phone, I start texting Armando.

Boss - How is Rosa?

Armando - She is sleeping. All good. But I didn't tell you something last night.

Boss - Why?

Armando - You sounded angry…

Deep sigh….

Boss - What is it?

Armando - Salvatore's daughter is with us. Miriam Ferrari… if you know her?

Boss - I know her. Why is she with you?

Armando - She hid in the truck.

I release a deep sigh.

Miriam Ferrari, Salvatore's weakness. After her mother's death, she vanished, and Salvatore kept her hidden and protected at all costs. Given the attempts even within his gang to find out her whereabouts, having her with us might be a stroke of luck.

Boss: Take care of her too. She's an important piece.

Armando: Got it, boss.

I close the phone, pondering the unexpected addition of Miriam to our situation. I have plans for her. My deal could save her life, as without it, she won't survive for long. Many people surely harbor resentment against Salvatore.

"Something happened?" Amara yawns, her hand covering her mouth, staring at me curiously.

Guess who's awake…

"Do you want to know?" I tease, turning towards her.

"Why wouldn't I?" She tilts her head, seated in the car, staring at me. Her eyes still show signs of needing more rest.

"We have Salvatore's daughter. Do you know her?"

"I don't. I thought he never had kids…" She frowns, seemingly annoyed that I know more than she does. She'll get used to it.

"He has only Miriam, but he kept her hidden from a young age. Not many people outside the gang know."

She loses the frown, glancing around. "Where are we?"

"Hmm… We'll do a little shopping," I reply, observing her frown intensifying.

"Why?"

"Do you want Emilio to see you in sportswear, after coming from a date with me, when you left home in a damn hot dress?"

"You have a point…" She nods, locking eyes with me.

"Good. Time to invest my first money in you." I smirk, and she rolls her eyes.

Her irritated expression, oddly enough, reminds me of the cat I had when I was younger.

"I can pay…" She mumbles, making me frown.

"That's after I die. Until then, I pay for everything. Keep that in mind."

"Don't you think there are too many things to keep in mind?" She frowns back, but I can tell she's not genuinely upset.

"I think this is only the beginning. There will be lots of things to keep in mind when it comes to me." I approach her, my nose touching hers.

She doesn't back down, her eyes staring into mine. I kiss her briefly, and she seems responsive. That's a good sign. I pull away, her face slightly rosy. I smirk subtly.

"If I'm still dressing you up nicely, why not take advantage of the situation and take you on an actual date? I don't see why not. Do you?" I raise my eyebrows, curious about her thoughts.

"I only see why we should." She responds with a subtle smile.

I chuckle, and she lets herself smile more freely.

We enter the shop, and I understand why Amara is already frowning. The shop is black and white, devoid of colors. I usually get my suits here, and many other gang members are accustomed to coming here. The owner is an affiliate of our gang.

"The owner is our affiliate." I whisper to her, her eyes glancing at me, frowning when a man places his gun on the table while trying on a blazer.

She doesn't say anything. She probably gets it.

I look at Amara as some elegantly dressed women scoff at her subtly. Unfazed, she stands with her hands in the brown hoodie's front pocket. The pants are slightly too big for her, revealing a transition from a classified sports person to a recent thug. It reminds me of Fiero somehow. Sigh…

I have to change her clothes soon and showcase in front of all the women that Amara is the sexiest in fancy dresses or suits. They don't know a damn thing. Her slim figure would look appetizing in the dress I spot.

Bingo!

I grab her hand, and she struggles to walk in her heels. I lead her in front of the dress, and she raises an eyebrow at me.

"You like this one?"

I don't hesitate for a second. "Yes. This is the one."

She tilts her head, judging the dress, and glances at me. "I will try it out."

I sit on a chair, waiting for Amara, who vanishes with one of the assistants from the shop. I'm about to lose my patience when she pushes the curtains aside.

Damn… like really damn. I can say damn again if it conveys what I feel right now.

The dress wraps around her body perfectly. It has a backless halter neck, and as she turns, showing me her back, the slit going up her thigh makes me shiver.

I know for a fact that I'll always have a problem with slits. I don't mind recreating that night again. Her leg is visible through the slit, and the high heels accentuate the end of her enticing leg.

She looks too beautiful to be shown. I call the assistant, and she rushes in.

"Give me a coat that can cover her ass. Thanks." The assistant blushes and leaves in a hurry .

Amara doesn't catch what I said and frowns at me as the assistant departs. She takes a few steps closer to me, and I'm caught in the rhythm of her hips. God, if only I could take her home with me tonight too…

"Are you satisfied?" She crosses her arms, looking down at me.

"I am… now." The assistant comes with a black leather coat, tossing it onto Amara. She looks confused but cooperates with the assistant .

"I look like a mob wife," she mumbles, scrutinizing herself in the mirror, turning to see her reflection. I overhear her as my steps bring me behind her.

"That was the goal, Bittercandy," I smirk, and she blushes a little.

"Wait here a bit. I will go change too," she says, nodding and heading to the chair I left empty. The assistant seems flustered by my earlier remarks, directing me to the dressing room.

I finish changing in less than five minutes – a black bottleneck blouse, a pair of black suit pants, and a coat reaching my knees. I step out of the dressing room, and Amara, now seated, looks at me with a bored expression. Her eyes widen, and she gulps. I guess I hit the mark.

She stands up and meets me halfway, where the mirror is positioned.

"I look like a mafia husband," I chuckle, echoing her previous remark, glancing at her. She smiles, returning my remark with faint pink cheeks.

"Isn't that your goal?"

"It is," I reply, turning around to size her up. She looks incredible in black, fitting seamlessly into my world. She might not realize it yet, but we fit. We fit well.

"Where do you want to go on our date?" I want to go where she wants. I'm tired of fancy restaurants, and I think she doesn't like them either. Glancing at her feet, I notice her shifting her weight subtly. The high heels are clearly not her thing.

"I never really went on dates… I have no idea where we're supposed to go on a date, actually." She scratches her head, and I find it amusing. The ring on her finger makes me happy inside.

"I guess we have to figure this out," I say seriously, not wanting to come up with an option. Today, she gets to choose.

I grab her hand nonchalantly, and she follows me. My steps are much slower as I look around, searching for a pair of shoes that will match her outfit. There's no way she will wear those damned heels. She clearly hates them.

Stopping in front of a shelf with loafers, I think they will go fine with her attire. I take a pair and place it on the floor, getting down on one knee. My hand reaches for her feet.

"Let me change those damned heels." She stumbles as she lifts her leg, her hand propping up on my shoulder. I remove the shoe, noticing the red marks.

"Screw them…" She chuckles at my remark. My hands move quickly, fitting the loafers onto her feet.

"…burn in hell…" She continues my remark, frowning at the pair of high heels now on the ground.

I stand up, holding the high heels in one of my hands. "Better?"

She sizes herself up and nods. "Yea …..Thanks." Her lips are bitten and I feel the urge to kiss her .

"The pleasure is mine," I smirk, stretching my hand to intertwine with hers.

We leave the shop after my card does its job. The wind outside makes her shiver. It's good that we got coats. This date was perfect since I planned to buy some autumn clothes. And to think I got her this outfit is more than perfect.

We plan to walk, heading to a park close to where we parked the car. Her hand is warm in mine as we casually stroll down a relatively empty alley, some street food shops lining our right side.

I glance at her, unable to resist smiling. Her nose rises, as if she's caught a scent she's been searching for. Her head turns toward me, and she tilts her head, definitely not interested in me. I glance in the same direction, and we stop.

"I don't remember the last time I ate Arancini…" She gulps, and I can feel my mouth watering just by looking at them too. I don't remember when I ate them either.

We automatically approach the stall, and she orders triangular Arancini with different fillings. She sniffs some other food, her steps heading fast towards two stalls away. I pay in a hurry and follow her.

She licks her lips, looking at Cannoli.

"Which filling?" I glance at her as I've already chosen mine. I used to eat those, and I can tell that she might have had similar childhood experiences.

"Always pistachio," she says shortly, glancing at me. I smile and order two of them, one with pistachio and one with chocolate.

Guess she has a weakness for food… Pretty cute.