The Sweetest Temptation
Chapter 296: Torture

Chapter 296: Torture

In spite of his meager standings, he had still wanted to stay alive. It had got Remo thinking, just what is it that keeps pushing one to want to move on, even when everything has gone down to dust?

But then, after a moment of pondering, he had closed off the topic, because he knew within him, that he would never come to know what that thing was. He would never get to a position where he had to beg to keep his head. He would never get to the point of this cunning old man, whom, in spite of knowing who he was dealing with, still went ahead to play on his intelligence.

The old man had even renewed several jewelries on his flabby skin. Where Remo had been able to tell just how much he wanted his affluence noticed, was the evidently gold nose ring that hung pristinely between the bridge that parted his nostrils.

His vintage shirt, which were normally worn out with frequent wear, or overwashed, or obviously picked out from a thrift store, were now clearly designers, ones he’d taken his time to pick out, and he’d be damned if he raided this place and wouldn’t find more of those inside.

He didn’t even try to hide it.

This bastard really thinks I’m a fool...

"Plus, we were never expecting you to come in without a notice," the man continued, hoping to appeal to Remo with more excuses.

That was a liable excuse, as Remo usually took it upon himself to warn the person beforehand, about his arrival. So, irrespective of whatever the situation was, he would have to provide the returns that Remo required from their agreement.

But having returned from the hospital, with news of Stella being ambushed, and seeing for himself, he had gotten all riled up and was in the mood for a good session with someone stubborn. However, for some reasons, many of the people he dealt with, and that knew him for who he was, always turned up, no matter the circumstance.

It would not do to beat up a person that was doing his job, so, he needed a good enough reason. And to his utmost delight, he’d just found the perfect meat for his cravings. His mind had already begun to cook up all sorts of methods to teach the sly old fox a lesson, but he needed to hear it first, or at least he needed some sort of proof.

"It’s my business. Do I need to give workers a notice before they do their jobs?" He asked coolly.

"No, no, of course not, sir Alfonso. We’re doing the best we can, you can always count on us. It’s just, the streets lately have been really dangerous, and, you know, we can’t die otherwise we wouldn’t be able to bring back what you—"

"Two weeks entry." Remo continued, his intense stare never leaving his shaky eyes, filled with terror and obvious need for flight.

The man was truly horrible at keeping his guilt hidden. It was a wonder to Remo how he’d managed to live up until this moment. It was the same thing that had pushed Remo into taking him in as one of his minor associates. He had mistaken his inability to keep his emotions hidden for transparency and had given him a job that he could not be trusted with.

And now he would pay.

A sinister smile curled up on Remo’s face.

"Sir Alfonso," the old man began in a rueful voice overlayed with sorrow. Now, he knew what he had brought upon himself.

"Come closer, Pietro," Remo said in a cool but chilling tone, his hands still curled up across his broad chest. Seated in the manner in which he was, one could easily mistake him for an elite, who spent his leisure time on discussing about matters that involved the politics and government. Sir Alfonso being his alias in the underworld

He had chosen a well-tailored suit that accentuated his lean muscles, and covered every one of his intricately crafted tattoos, save the tusk of a slithering dragon that creeped up from the center of his back. His sleek black and thoroughly polished gold cane, poised on his resting leg, gave him the air of an old and experienced master of the games of affluence. And his top hat, craftily poised to cover his features, added an air of mystery to the workings of not only his mind, but also his next move.

Anyone who beheld him knew at once that they were dealing with a man of whom there was need to calculate every little step before taking a leap.

But not this old man.

"Sir, Alfonso,"

"I’m in a really bad mood today, and you’re making it worse."

Reluctantly, Pietro dragged his feet toward where Remo was seated, never shifting from his initial stance. When he had closed the distance to about a few feet away from him, he paused and fixed his eyes on him once again.

"Yes, sir Alfonso," Pietro called out sheepishly, his voice shaky with the tremors of fear that had replaced oxygen in his bloodstream. When Remo looked up at him, he flinched slightly, but maintained his position.

Remo sighed wearily and got to his feet. From his side eyes, he could see that the old man’s legs had given way to his insecurity. And now, they shook endlessly, unable to take the tension of the moment anymore.

"I truly wonder," Remo said, working the buttons of his suit jacket and handing the jacket over to one of his bodyguards. "What went on in your mind when you decided to disrespect my order."

"Sir Alfonso," the moment he spoke his name, Remo connected the back of his palm with Pietro’s cheek with such force it sent the man to the ground with an unusually loud thud. Blood splattered from his mouth and splashed on Remo’s white dress shirt.

"You don’t interrupt when I’m talking."

After he’d addressed him, he rose his forearm to his line of sight, turning it over as he observed the numerous dots of red seeping into the material.

"Now look at what you’ve done." He mumbled sorely, turning his gaze to observe the man as he tossed slightly to regain his composure.