Can A Grim Reaper Love?

Mango stepped out of the bathroom, her pulse steady, her mind sharp.

She was ready.

She moved swiftly through the crowd, slipping between bodies without really seeing them. They were background noise. Distractions. Her focus was steady.

Playtime’s over.

Her heart beat faster, but not from nerves—this was the thrill, the rush before the strike. Her brain sharpened, pulling in details like a sponge.

She saw Lea was gone.

Perfect.

No more prying eyes. No more interruptions.

For a brief moment, curiosity tugged at her. Maybe she should find Lea, make sure she was really gone.

But no.

Stay on task. Get this done. Be out before anyone even notices.

She turned her eyes toward the balcony. John was still there. Leaning against the railing, staring out into the trees.

Too bad, she thought. He really was cute.

But cute didn’t pay the bills.

She stepped through the open door, using his shadow as cover, moving in behind him.

Silent. Unstoppable.

Then—whether by fate or sheer luck—John turned.

He saw her.

But she didn’t slow down. If anything, her pace quickened.

His face wasn’t harsh like before. That anger from earlier—it was gone. Now, it was softer. The same quiet sadness she’d caught glimpses of before. Not that she cared. She was too close now.

John cleared his throat. “Look, I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.” he said.

Mango’s fingers curled around the edge of her dress, inching it up toward the knife holster strapped to her thigh.

“That’s okay, hon,” she purred, her voice smooth, her lie effortless. “You seemed like you were having an off night.”

John shook his head. “No, it’s not. I can’t just be an asshole because my father died.”

Her heart stopped.

Her pace slowed to a crawl.

The fabric of her dress slipped from her fingers, falling back into place.

His father is dead?

Her mind raced.

If his dad is dead, then how is he supposed to change the will?

Something was wrong.

“Your father is dead?” Mango asked.

John nodded. “Yeah.” He exhaled sharply. “Doesn’t excuse me being an asshole, but… I don’t want to be a jerk to someone I don’t even know.” He hesitated, then picked up the drink she had left on the railing, holding it out to her. “Plus, you left this.”

Mango studied his face. Every inch of it.

Looking for a crack.

Looking for a lie.

But all she found was an earnest apology.

And that was the problem.

Could a mobster’s son really be sincere?

Her fingers twitched slightly before she reached out and took the drink. She cast a glance back at the kitchen. Lea. Was she watching? But the kitchen was empty. Mango frowned. Where the hell did she go?

She didn’t like unknowns. Unknowns led to mistakes. But right now, none of that mattered. Because right now, they were alone. And she needed to confirm her suspicion.

She swirled the glass in her hand. “What do you mean your father is dead?” she asked. “Like… recently?”

“His funeral was today.” John said.

Mango’s grip tightened around the glass.

“That’s why I’m wearing a suit to a house party,” he added.

Her stomach twisted.

Two weeks ago, she had met his brother and had been given this job.

And now his father was dead?

That was something she should have known.

Why wasn’t the hit called off? 

Mango forced her voice to stay soft. “Must be hard,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

She leaned against the railing next to him, slipping a hand into her purse and pulling out her phone.

No new messages.

No updates.

Nothing.

She slid it back inside.

Everything was too quiet.

The missing friend. The dead father. The lack of communication from his brother.

She felt it now. That nagging sensation at the back of her skull.

Was she being set up?

And if she was, by who? Why?

His brother? No, that wouldn’t make sense. He wanted John dead to inherit everything. But if their father was already dead, then the will should be in motion.

No one could plan the exact moment of their father’s death, but if the will was changing, the hit should have been canceled.

If she killed John now… it could cause problems.

The police would come looking for him. The press would definitely cover the death of a mobster’s son.

And more than anything—

Something felt... unnerving. Mango glanced at John.

His head was down, staring at the floor, lost in thought. A strange feeling curled in her chest.

One thing she did know? She was unstoppable. And if she wanted John dead, he would be.

But there was no set time for his death.

And without confirming the job, she wasn’t about to make her move now. If this was a setup, keeping him alive a little longer might give her the out she needed.

For now?

She’d humor him.

And maybe herself.

“What was he like?” Mango asked.

John let out a heavy sigh. “Family was everything to him.” He said. “I mean… we fought. A lot. I never wanted to be part of his… business.”

Mango smirked. “No?”

“No.” John’s voice went cold. “It made things hard for me. He wanted me to follow in his footsteps. I just… couldn’t.”

He looked away, his fingers tightening around the glass.

“My siblings,” he muttered. “They were way better at it. Are better at it.”

Mango cocked her head. “Way better at what?”

A heavy silence settled between them.

A chill in the air.

And then, John looked at her. That look.

The kind of look someone only gives when they’ve seen death.

Once you’ve known death—truly known it—it changes you.

Mango recognized that look in John’s eyes. Because she saw it every day in the mirror.

It was the look of a reaper. Not some mythical creature. Not the boatman on the River Styx. A real reaper.

A murderer. Just like her.

But something about him told her he hated himself for it.

John exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “My siblings… their businesses… well, they’re better at—” He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “Construction.”

Mango giggled at the ridiculous attempt.

Construction? What is this, a movie?

“I hear it’s a tough market,” she joked.

“Tough,” John chuckled. “That’s one way to put it.”

He leaned against the railing, looking out at the trees. “Pops always said, if you focus on what you want, it’ll happen. And he made it happen.”

Mango tilted her head. “And what do you want?”

John paused, scratching the back of his neck.

For the first time, he looked… nervous.

His feet shifted, his fingers tugged at his collar, like the air had suddenly gotten too hot.

Mango narrowed her eyes. Nervous? A guy like this?

“You’re gonna laugh,” he said.

Mango smiled sweetly. “Me? I’m respectful.”

John exhaled, staring down at his glass.

Mango lifted her drink, taking a slow, deliberate sip while watching him.

Who the hell is this guy?

A man with a dark past. A man who shouldn’t be easy to talk to. And yet, he was.

There was something… nice about him. And yet, she knew he wasn’t nice at all. Finally, John nodded to himself, like he’d made a decision.

“Garbage disposal business,” he said.

Mango almost spit out her drink.

She swallowed just in time, then coughed—hard—choking as it went down the wrong way.

She burst into laughter. “GARBAGE?!”

John grinned. “Yeah.”

“Why?” she asked, still trying to catch her breath.

John, though laughing with her, still looked nervous—desperate to explain himself.

“This city is overrun with trash,” he said. “I think I could do pretty well. Do something good.”

Mango smirked. “Boy, you gotta do what you love.”

“That way,” John corrected, “I’ll never actually work a day in my life. Ever feel like people want you to be something you’re not? Like fate has different plans for you than what you want? Like who you are and who you’ve become are two completely different people?”

Mango met his gaze.

And for the first time in her life—

She knew someone. Inside and out.

Because John was just like her.

“Yes,” she said quietly.

And right then and there—she made a decision.

Something she should never do.

Something no professional ever does.

But for just a little while…

She thought it might be nice.

Mango downed the rest of her drink, setting the empty glass on the railing.

Then she walked up to him—

And grabbed his sides. Her breasts pressing against his abs and their bodies exchanging heat. They looked deep into each other’s eyes.

Suddenly, fireworks exploded in the distance.

Their heads snapped toward the sky as bright bursts of red, blue, and white lit up the night. The colors shimmered in their eyes, flickering against their faces.

It was almost like a fairy tale.

John’s focus lingered on the sky—

And in that split second, Mango gave a quick jab to his side.

John flinched, his head snapping back toward her in shock.

“So, you’ve been here before,” Mango teased, “And you’re too rude to give a girl a private tour?”