Every mission is special. Every mission is important.

More so with this one because I can take three for the price of one. And since I don’t want to fuck up, I’ve taken an extra few days to get ready.

Preparation is everything.

My cover needs to be perfect.

It’s not a ‘Go in, seduce, and fuck off’ kind of job. No, Sir.

I must be able to get in, win over the confidence of at least one of them, and then start getting the dirt.

Every time I think of them, bile rises in the back of my throat.

People like the Monatello brothers are the worst. They rape, pillage, and plunder from the poor. They don’t care how many lives the ruin.

All they care about is their own bank balance.

It’ll give me enormous pleasure to bring them down, one by one. I’ve spent two days and some of those nights doing my research. I know more about those brothers than their aunties.

This one is definitely for you, Mom, I think to myself.

I examine my reflection. Not bad.

I’ve gone heavy on the make up. Those girls who work as escort agents usually use more make up than necessary. No doubt they need to cover up the rough handling by some of the men.

Why else would they go for excessive war paint? I mean I rarely use make up at all. I can’t understand the way some girls paint it on so thickly.

The black skirt just covers my ass. I try moving in various positions to make sure it will ride up enough when the time comes. And yep, it does.

I’ve worn a thong underneath.

If all goes according to plan, the brothers should get to see plenty.

Of course, I’m a total professional—I’m more than aware plan A may not come off well.

I need a plan B.

Right now though, I’m totally focused on my original plan. I grab a white shirt, one that is a little tight around my bust. Black and white is totally my color.

To finish off, I pin up my long black hair. The plan is for it to come undone at just the right time and fall loosely over my back and shoulder.

When my hair is untied, the men just drool over me.

It’s not as if I’ve got a big head or a giant ego or anything. Quite the opposite. I just go by the reaction of the men on assignment.

A quick glance at my slim silver wristwatch confirms I’ve got just enough time to practice my slutty walk one last time. My hips sway excessively from side to side. I glance at the mirror.

Perfect.

According to my research, the brothers meet at the Café Grind Up most Friday mornings. Today is Friday. I’m hoping it’s one of those days they meet there.

The tidbit of intel came from one of my colleagues in the agency. I didn’t outright ask about the habits of the Monatello brothers. If I’d been so stupid, I would’ve aroused suspicion.

Since no one in the agency knows about this job, I had to be careful about digging up information. But I have my ways of getting stuff I need to know.

On the way to the Ground Up, I rehearse what I’m going to say when I finally get to meet them.

As the café comes into sight, I slow my step right down. I’ve seen plenty of their pictures, so it’s not hard to spot them a mile off. Typically Italian, they’re sitting in the outside area of the café, talking animatedly.

I know they’re fucking good-looking, but they look even better in the flesh.

They’re voices travel, although I can’t quite make out what they’re saying. Hands and arms are waving in the air.

I’ve never seen an Italian talk without using their hands. In fact, I have a theory that they can’t talk without exaggerated gestures. If I ever need to torture one, I’d tie their hands behind their backs and make them talk.

Slowly, I walk toward the café.

My eyes look for the landmarks. I timed this yesterday.

Fifteen more steps, and I can start my plan.

Two, one, I count and trip.

My heel catches on something on the pavement, and with flailing arms, I go flying through the air. With a loud thud, I land right in front of the table of the Monatello brothers.

To make sure I get noticed, I squeal.

I can feel a cool breeze assault my bare ass, and I know I’ve succeeded in making sure my skirt rides up enough to leave nothing to the imagination.

“Oh, Caro,” one of them cries, and I count to three.

One, two, and three. Slowly, looking as dazed as I can, I get to my hands and knees, just as two of them come around me from behind.

Yes.

I love it when everything goes absolutely fucking perfect to plan.

From the gasp of one of them, I know he’s just seen my ass and pussy.

Perfect.

“Bella Donna, are you alright?”

Antonio Monatello kneels in front of me. His right hand extends, and he lifts my chin.

Our eyes meet.

Holy shit. Gorgeous chocolate eyes stare right into my soul.

I try and fight back the tears. I bite my bottom lip. I play the victim perfectly.

Tears spill, and my shoulders heave a little.

“I—” I start and stop. “I’m not sure.”

Finally, I get into a semi upright position.

Several hands extend toward me. “Here.”

“Let me help you,” all three echo in unison.

A big grin spreads inwardly.

Phase one of meeting the Monatello brothers is successful.

All that’s left to do now is to get a job with one of them. Once I’m inside their organization, spying on them will be a piece of cake.

From what I know, one of them runs the casinos, the other the loan side of the business, and the third the escort agency.

Based on this info, and my own assets, I think my best chance is to try for the escort agency work.

Sure, I could’ve phoned to try and get an interview, but I don’t want to be palmed off to one of their many minders.

No, if you want to speak with one of these hot shots, you’ve got to have a good plan.