A FRIENDLY REMINDER

The afternoon sun cast its golden rays over the Argento estate, painting long shadows across the manicured lawns. The air was deceptively still, disturbed only by rustling leaves and the occasional chirping of a bird. Martina knelt in the garden, her hands buried to the wrists in the soil as she tended to the budding flowers. It was a queer sight-the wife of Silvio Argento-but she insisted that she find comfort in something simple, something of hers.

Inside the estate, Silvio stood by the balcony, his sharp eyes sweeping across the courtyard. Basking in the serenity of the silent estate

The peace of the afternoon shattered abruptly. A gunshot reverberated, sharp and deafening; then there was another. Silvio straightened at once, reacting on instinct.

"Boss!" Leo he's right hand man  burst into the room, pale as a ghost, but awake and alert.

"Get Martina inside!" Silvio grasped his gun from the desk, swift in action. His voice was cold and commanding.

Outside, Martina stiffened, her fingers clenching around the pruning shears as shouts exploded around her. Two guards raced toward her, their feet pounding in a jog.

"Mrs. Argento, come with us!" one of them yelled, reaching for her arm.

"What's going on?" I insisted, my head jerking from one to the other.

"No time-discuss later!" the guard insisted, tugging me towards the house as gunfire reverberated across the estate.

The courtyard was a war zone. Armed men moved with precision, their rifles flashing as they targeted Silvio's guards. Statues and hedges offered little cover as bullets tore through the air. Silvio emerged from the main hall, his gun raised. He fired at one of the intruders, the man dropping instantly.

"They're professionals," Leo said, crouching beside him.

"That much is obvious," Silvio growled, his eyes scanning the chaos.

A whizz whirred sharp past his ear, and Silvio ducked behind a stone pillar, returning fire. One of his men fell nearby, clutching his chest as blood pooled beneath him.

"Fall back to the main hall!" Silvio barked, his voice cutting through the chaos.

His men retreated, pulling the wounded, but the attackers went forward. I stood inside the house, near the stairs, my  face  white as I watched the sight before me.

"Silvio!" I called, a hint of fear in my voice.

He glanced back at me with a mask of indifference. "Stay there," he commanded, turning immediately to the commotion.

The attackers were relentless, inching their way closer to the estate. Silvio moved with lethal precision, each shot finding its mark despite the growing tension. But the tide wasn't in their favor.

A sharp pain tore through Silvio's shoulder as a bullet struck him. He staggered but didn't falter, his grip tightening on his weapon.

"Boss!" Leo shouted, rushing to his side.

"I’m fine," Silvio snapped, gritting his teeth against the pain. "Hold your position."

The doors to the main hall groaned under the force of a battering ram. Silvio and his remaining men positioned themselves strategically, their weapons trained on the entrance.

"Don’t let them through," Silvio commanded, his voice cold and unyielding.

The doors splintered, and chaos erupted anew. The attackers poured in, their assault brutal and unrelenting. The battle became a close-quarters melee, the air thick with smoke and the metallic scent of blood.

Silvio fought like a man possessed, his injured shoulder doing little to hinder his lethal efficiency. He moved through the fray, his gunfire precise, each shot a calculated kill.

After an eternity, the last of them finally went down. There was complete silence in the room except for labored breathing from those still alive.

Leo walked up to Silvio, his face stern. "Four men down," he said in a hushed tone. "We need to take care of the bodies before this gets to the cops."

Silvio nodded, his expression hard. His shirt was soaked with blood, but he paid it no mind.

I stepped forward hesitantly, my gaze fixed on his injured shoulder. "You’re hurt," I said softly.

He smirked, despite the pain. "It’s nothing," he replied, his tone dismissive.

My lips pressed into a thin line, but I didn't argue. Instead, I turned away, determined to find some bandages.

Silvio watched her go, a dark smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Silvio followed her into the room, His face contorted in a mask of pain, eyes darting everywhere frantically. His shirt was blood-soaked, and his movements were sharp, searching for anything that could help him. He limped slightly as he crossed the floor.

"Where the hell is the first aid kit?" he growled, opening cabinets and drawers with jerky, rising-temper movements.

Martina stood by the bed, watching him with swells of concern churning in her chest. She bit her lip, then spoke up, trying to keep the shake from her voice. "You need a doctor, Silvio."

He paused, his back to her, and smirked. His voice came out smooth but edged with pain. "I can handle a little shot. Don't worry about it."

"Little shot?" she echoed, one eyebrow lifting as she crossed the room. Her gaze dropped down to his bloodied shirt, the blood darkening in blotches. "Silvio, this is more than just a little shot."

Silvio turned around, his dark eyes locking with mind . There was a tension there between us , unsaid but palpable. "It's nothing," he said-a quiet challenge in his voice.

I hesitated. I didn't want to argue, but i couldn't let him keep acting like this wasn't serious. I moved past him, looking for the first aid kit, but my thoughts were scattered, the unease creeping up my spine.

I  took a steadying breath and reached for the kit, doing my best to disregard the heat rushing to my cheeks. There was something unnerving about his proximity now; it might have been the sight of him in pain or just the force of his presence.

"You're stubborn, you know that?" I muttered, kneel­ing in front of him.

"I’ve been told." His voice was low, amusement flickering in his eyes despite the obvious discomfort.

I opened the first aid kit, my hands trembling slightly as she focused on the task at hand. "Sit still," I instructed, but my words held more uncertainty than i meant.

Silvio didn't argue. He sat back in the chair, watching closely. The silence between us was thick, the only sound the rustle of bandages and the soft drag of his breath as I slowly began to unbutton his shirt.

My fingers brushed his skin-the touch wasn't intentional, yet electric. I froze, as a sudden, fleeting shiver ran down my spine. I could feel the weight of his gaze on me intense and unblinking.

A breath caught in my throat, as I willfully focused. I went ahead, unbuttoning the shirt, trying to steady my shaky hands.

When I finally pulled the shirt off, my eyes drifted  up to his face.

Then, it happened.

As the shirt fell off, My  gaze shifted down, and I let out a gasp-loud and sharp-at what lay before me .