by Rina Kent
22
Elle
The bed is achingly empty and cold when I wake up.
I groan and bury my face in Julian’s pillow. I’ve become a hopeless addict of his presence and his intoxicating, masculine scent.
Emmanuelle, the underground fighter, the woman who lived on bitterness and anger, doesn’t do this. But Emmanuelle was so painfully alone. I don’t even want to think about her anymore.
I’m yours, Firefly.
I squeal and hug Julian’s pillow to my chest like a teenager or some shit. Which is stupid, because I’ve never been a teenager. I jumped straight to adulthood.
But recalling Julian’s words in that cool, slightly husky tone makes me want to fly out of my skin.
I sit up, ready to jump him wherever he is. My eyes zero in on a tray on the side of the bed.
My mouth hangs open. Did Julian bring me breakfast in bed?
It’s nothing fancily decorated. Mostly protein, eggs, toast, and marmite. But it’s breakfast all the same. I pinch my cheeks. Nope. Not a dream. The breakfast is still there.
Have I somehow landed on the most amazing mobster on earth or what?
I notice a note folded beside the toast.
‘Eat well and put your boxing gear on. I owe you a match.’
I grin like an idiot and devour the breakfast in record time. It means a lot that Julian is doing this for me. He’s been the busiest person since the whole President Joe business, but he’s making time for me. He promised me a match and I’m beginning to learn that Julian always keeps his promises.
My phone vibrates. My stomach sinks.
Liam.
I gulp the last of the marmite on toast. I’ve been avoiding him the last couple of days, and even shut off my phone so Julian wouldn’t find anything. But if I continue ignoring Liam’s calls, he’ll think I’m in danger and might storm here.
In fact, after what happened with Zoe, Liam would most definitely risk his career and barge in here without a warrant.
That’s the last thing I want.
But at the same time, I can’t help Liam anymore. Just the thought of disappointing Julian causes my skin to crawl. No idea how or when I became this loyal to Julian, but I can’t keep supplying Liam with information behind Julian’s back.
Besides, there’s no way I’ll allow Liam to risk his career or his life for me.
There needs to be middle ground for everyone.
I make sure the window and the door are closed before I answer the call.
“Where the bloody hell have you been, you little bugger?” Liam pauses. “You’re fine, right?”
“Don’t worry. I’m totally cool. It’s just...”
“Just what?” His tone hardens.
I bite my lower lip. Here we go. Now or never. “I can’t get in touch anymore.”
“Why the bloody hell not?”
Because I’m being a shitty naïve fool who’s trusting a gangster with her life. The hottest gangster.
“It’s a bit tense here lately.” I mention no details.
“We know about Kyle being shot, even if they’re keeping it under wraps.”
Does that mean he hasn’t heard about yesterday’s shootings? Doesn’t matter. I won’t say a word.
You’re not going to betray me, Firefly?
Julian’s words play in the back of my head on a loop. I meant it when I said I won’t. Not anymore.
Liam’s voice filters in a warning. “If you’re in danger –”
“I’m not.” I cut him off. “It’s just that the control room is buzzing with guards. Once it cools down, I will get the footage. Until then, don’t contact me. It’s safer that way.”
Both for him, Julian, and me. If Mist or the others find out Liam knows more than he should, they would kill him in a blink. I’m not ready to lose another family member.
“Bollocks.” I can almost see him kicking something. “What the hell was I thinking to send you there?”
“It’s for Zoe. Let me do this, Liam.”
He releases a long breath then says, “You will contact me if anything happens?”
“I promise.”
Depends on how he defines ‘if anything happens’. When I hang up, I close my eyes in a silent goodbye.
Whether it’s to Liam or to my old life, I have no idea.
Giddiness and excitement whirl through me as I make my way to the back garden. I’m dressed in shorts and a tank top I’ve borrowed from Scar.
She made me wear a top on which is written, ‘Don’t Fucking Touch Me, Peasant.’ When I wanted to change into something else, she locked the wardrobe with a key and went back to meditating. She’s been doing that a lot lately. No more blasting Oasis’ music all day long.
Sometimes, Scar is too weird for words. Okay, most of the time.
Since she’s slimmer than me, the clothes are a size too tight. This isn’t what I’m used to wearing while boxing, but I don’t have my tracksuits with me and Julian ripped the only hoodie and sweat trousers I have.
Not that I’m complaining.
When I round the corner, I freeze.
Julian is punching Shadow with a ferocity that knots my insides. I don’t like Shadow that much, but it’s as if Julian has a personal grudge against his friend. The recent wound on his arm doesn’t even faze him.
Blood explodes from Shadow’s lips. He has his arms up to block Julian’s successive mixture of uppercuts, right crosses, and hooks.
It doesn’t work.
Julian is on a momentum. A dark as hell momentum. His eyes are almost black and completely devoid of life. There are no golden rings. No sign of the Julian who hugs me to sleep.
This is a killer. A remorseless killer, as Scar said.
A shudder shoots through my body.
Julian doesn’t stop, and Shadow is about to fall. Half his face and collarbone are smeared with blood. Even his knuckles are busted, and blood covers his non-bandaged fist.
I’m suddenly scared for his life. What if Julian does kill him?
He wouldn’t forgive himself.
Before I can intervene, Shadow digs his blood-coated fingers in Julian’s bicep wound. Hard.
I run towards him. “Hey! Why are you playing dirty?”
They break apart and spin towards me in one go. I flinch backwards at those robotic, inhuman eyes. Julian’s gaze instantly warms at my sight. The golden rings return, and relief washes over me.
Shadow’s hollow look remains.
He wipes his mouth with the back of his arm, which mars his tiger tattoos with blood. They were snarling before. Now, they appear downright gruesome. Like they could eat me alive.
Shadow narrows his eyes on my face then saunters away.
“What’s his problem with me?” I ask once he disappears around the corner.
I’m the one who has a problem with him. He’s a huge suspect in Zoe’s disappearance. It’s just that since I saw him stare at the lake house – a place Zoe would never mention to an enemy – I’m not so sure about him anymore.
I’m more wary, really.
Shadow is the type of man to treat with caution. His charming side never fooled me. It’s like he’s using it to hide a darker, devilish side.
“He’s pissed off you took from our boxing time,” Julian says from behind me.
“I saved his arse. You were beating the hell –” I turn around, and words die in my throat.
Julian is drinking from a bottle of water. That’s literally all he’s doing. Only he’s half-naked. The shorts hang low on his hips. Sweat coats his defined abs causing his tattoos to shine. The eerie warrior might as well jump me. A few drops travel down, down, to that perfect V line and disappear beneath the shorts.
My lips part, and I’m about to drool like a bloody dog.
He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on. A pulse throbs between my thighs. The more he touches me, the more my body becomes enchanted to his.
“I’m over here, Firefly.” Julian’s tone dri
ps with amusement.
Shit.
I snap my eyes to his and they’re gleaming as he continues drinking water. His lean, strong fingers clasp around the bottle.
Can I be that bottle?
Shit, again. What the hell is wrong with me?
Julian tosses the bottle to the ground. His eyes rake over me with heated hunger. “You used to box dressed like that?”
“No. These are Scar’s clothes.”
He squints at the ‘Don’t Fucking Touch Me, Peasant’, then stalks towards me. My pulse skyrockets at his feral gaze.
He wraps a possessive arm around my waist and glues me to his hard chest. His leg parts mine. The throb from earlier morphs into need.
Julian lowers his head and whispers in hot words against my ear, “Tell Scar I’ll touch what’s mine whenever I damn please.”
The possessive words flip my stomach, and I’m pretty sure I’m only standing because he’s holding me tight.
His hand fists in the tank top, about to rip it. I push him and jump back.
“Don’t!” I take a few breaths to calm my raging desire and stand in position. I place both bandaged wrists in front of my face. “Didn’t you say you owe me a match?”
His lips twitch in a smile as he mirrors my position. “Show me what you got, Firefly.”
I do.
Energy kicks into my limbs, and we go at it for what seems like hours. There’s nothing of the robotic look he had when boxing with Shadow. At that time, he seemed to be purging pent-up energy. Now, he appears to be genuinely enjoying himself.
My heart swells at being the cause of that.
Julian doesn’t take it easy on me. He considers me a worthy opponent and gives me his best punches and blocks. It’s like his injury doesn’t exist. What type of sorcery is that?
After some time, he starts to play dirty. Like super dirty. He smacks my arse twice and wrestles me to the ground so he can press his body all over mine. I barely escape his caveman clutches.
“Julian! That’s not fair!” I jump back and cross my arms, pretending to be angry. “We’re supposed to be boxing.”
His strong arms wrap around my waist from behind, and I can’t help melting in his hold. He makes me feel so small but also so protected. It doesn’t even make sense.
His lips graze my earlobe. “I can’t keep my hands off you.”
“But you do just fine with Shadow.”
“It’s a million times different.”
“How?”
“I want to bend you over and fuck you senseless every time you’re in sight. That’s how.”
Just like that, my body becomes a freaking wanton mess. As much as I want to succumb into temptation, a thought that’s been running in my head since last night is more urgent.
After a deep breath, I gulp and turn around. “Then... teach me how to shoot.”
He narrows his eyes and puts a hand on his chest as if offended. “I’m talking about fucking and your mind is at shooting?”
“We can do that later.” I run my fingers along the slight scruff on his jaw. “But since I hardly get to see you during the day, I want to do something fun.”
Julian laughs. The sound is deep and carefree and utterly happy. It does strange things to me. Who knows if he ever laughed so easily in the past?
I suppress my mirrored smile and elbow his side. “What are you laughing at?”
“Just that shooting and boxing are your ideas of fun.” He pinches my cheek. “You’re so different from other women.”
A pang hits my chest. “You prefer other women?”
“Fuck no. You’re the best woman anyone can ask for.”
Heat creeps to my cheek. I clear my throat and face him. “So... will you teach me?”
He’s standing straight, but there’s no stiffness in his posture. “Why do you want to shoot?”
I shrug. “After last night, I want to protect myself just in case. I can’t punch someone who has a gun, now can I?”
His brows furrow. “Let me protect you, Firefly. You don’t always have to be strong and put together. You can be weak and bare yourself with me. I would never judge you or use it against you.”
I gulp audibly. Will I ever be able to give someone else that power over me? In some way, I did give Julian the green light but admitting to it is entirely different.
I offer him an uncertain smile. “I know you will protect me, but I still want to learn just in case.”
He tilts his head to the side for a fleeting second then nods. “You’re right. Just in case.”
Shooting guns isn’t as hard as I thought it would be. Or perhaps it has to do with the excellent teacher I have. Julian’s so curt with his instructions, they feel like orders. His core technique is to always, always aim at the heart or the forehead. No wonder he’s high rank in this organisation.
Sometimes, I forget that he’s a killer first. Aiming at vital points, finishing people’s lives, is what he does.
But knowing he was forced into this life makes me feel sorry for him more than anything.
During the entire lesson, however, Julian is tense. It’s like he doesn’t want to teach me how to shoot. Or perhaps it’s because he thinks I don’t believe he could protect me.
So once we’re done shooting, I do the one thing I know reduces tension from his shoulders. I wrap my arms around his neck, climb up his body and kiss him long and deep.
I don’t even remember how or when I started hugging Julian, but ever since I did, I can’t let go.
It takes Julian a moment, but then, he grunts and kisses the living daylights out of me.
When we stumble inside, this fucking man rips Scar’s ‘Don’t Fucking Touch Me’ top.
Three days later, there’s wonderful news: Kyle wakes up.
He needs complete rest so no one is allowed to visit. At least that’s the official version. In reality, I think everyone in the firm is being suspected.
I want to make sure Kyle is fine, and I know Julian would allow me to visit if I ask, but I would rather not stand out as the ‘only one who visits Kyle’.
But Scar being Scar, she takes my hand and leads me straight to the guarded room on the third floor. Five bulky, stoic guards stand in front of the closed door.
Naturally, they don’t let us through.
Scar bangs and complains and bleeds the guards’ ears with her World War Two trivia.
I bite my laugh, watching their mixed expressions. She’s stunning, even in simple shorts and a T-shirt – that reads ‘I Have Only One Fuck to Give’ – so even the stoic guards check her out. However, none of them seems to appreciate the headache she causes.
Eventually, the Russian bloke, Vladimir, steps forwards and says in a non-negotiable, cold tone. “No one is allowed inside.”
“Not even Julian?” I ask.
“No one.” Vladimir doesn’t even look at me. He’s staring at a point in the distance. “Ghost’s orders.”
“Fuck Ghost.” Scar clicks her tongue, but she doesn’t try to force her way in. She flips her golden hair, interlaces her arm in mine, and we head back to her room.
She’s right. Fuck Ghost. Where was that bastard when the attack happened? Or when Kyle’s been shot?
But he’s Ghost, so perhaps he works from behind walls. I want to punch him for forbidding Julian from visiting Kyle. He’s his damn godfather.
He’s been so worried about Kyle. Seeing him would’ve eased his worries.
One good thing about Kyle regaining consciousness – besides relief – is that the control room isn’t buzzing with dozens of guards.
Since Julian forbids me from working as a waitress, I don’t get to bring up alcohol anymore.
For the time being, I hang around with Scar, waiting for the right opportunity to sneak into the control room.
The good thing about being close to Scar is that none of the girls talks rubbish about me. They seem to be scared of her rather than respect her. Unlike with Mist whom they obviously adore. Especiall
y after the attack. Apparently, Mist protected them with her life.
I do want to see the best in Mist, but I just can’t. She’s not trustworthy.
The fact that the girls are all over Mist, but shrink away at Scar’s view is strange as hell.
Scar is odd, but why would she be scary?
While she takes a shower, I sit in front of the mirror and half-glare half-dread the makeup on the console. I want to learn to do some of this myself. I never thought I’d ever be interested in makeup, but it’s worth the heated look Julian gives me.
There are also Scar’s sleeping pills. She says she takes them when she can’t sleep, but I have a feeling that’s happening more frequently lately. Add the meditating, and I’m worried about her.
The front door bursts open. No knock whatsoever.
I flinch and my fists clench.
Mist saunters inside. She’s in another elegant, dark blue dress and impossibly high stilettos, but her face is worn out. Even with makeup on.
Her gaze zeroes in on me. She folds her arms under her chest and taps them with her fingers. “Look who we have here. Little Miss Trouble.”
No idea what is it about Mist that makes me boil, but she just does. All I want to do is punch the redhead witch to a planet away from Julian.
“What do you want?” I try to ignore her by focusing on Scar’s endless makeup brushes.
“Do you honestly think he’s keeping you?”
The need to ruin her perfect face overwhelms me, but I still have words to attack her.
I face her and grin. “Actually, I do. He’s tiring me out, you know. At night. In the morning, and every chance he gets during the day. I forget the count.”
I expected jealousy from Mist, but there’s nothing.
Her face is unreadable as she stops tapping. “Interesting.” She pauses for a few more beats, measuring me from head to toe as if searching for something before she meets my back-off glare. “One day, he will throw you out. You know why? Your world and his go into parallel lines. They never intersect.”
I jerk up. Although she’s taller, I stand toe-to-toe with her. “Newsflash, Mist. They already have.”
“That’s what you think.” She studies her red-painted nails as if bored with the whole conversation. “Our world isn’t for someone like you.”
