Valentina tilted her head slightly, and let her eyes soften into what could only be described as a perfectly crafted sheepish look. Her lips pursed in a subtle pout. "So…you going to train me?" she asked.
Marco groaned, rubbing the back of his neck, the muscles tense beneath his shirt. His dark eyes narrowed, the lines of his face hardening with determination. He shook his head sharply. "No! You should be thinking about your future, school, normal life. Something girls your age think about," he said.
Valentina tilted her head, pouting more exaggeratedly, her eyes wide and pleading. "Marco…" she whined softly.
"No!" he barked. He gestured sharply to one of the guards waiting nearby. "Get a car, get her back home! Now!"
"Please..." she tugged at his shirt.
"Fine! Fine! God, you are relentless. I will teach you how to handle a gun," he said, "but that doesn't mean you get to carry it. And I am sure your sister will agree with me!"
She was insufferably bold, recklessly so.
