Void | 18+

03 | proposal

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠: 𝐧𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐫𝐲 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞

𝐃𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐀'𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐕

He's right in front of me now, and his threat shakes me to my core.

"What?" I whisper, and then I feel it. The cold feeling that starts in the centre of my chest and moves outwards, numbing my limbs as my mind fights to stay in the present and not disassociate to things I had pushed down long ago.

I haven't felt real, mind-numbing fear in a long time, this entire night, although an inconvenience, has not scared me the same as my past. 

But now, at this sick motherfucker's threat, I'm scared. And I fucking hate it.

His mouth turns up in satisfaction at the now unsettled look in my eyes, "You heard me. If you shoot me, your mom is dead too," despite the cruel look on his face, his voice remains toneless as he speaks of my mama.

My hands shake ever so slightly and his eyes shoot to them immediately, a glint of something horrific in his ruthless eyes.

He moves around me, and instead of following him with the gun as I did before, the weapon stays right in front of me with my hands frozen.

He circles his way around me, like a predator stalking prey, eyeing me from head to toe with his head tilted to the side while I stand there in shock, unable to move anymore.

He stands behind me, so close that his front is almost pressed against my back, snaking both of his arms around me, without touching me, until his long rough fingers skim the top of my hands.

His touch sends a jolt through my hands and I'm brought back to reality, snapping my head back to stare at him before following how his hands move.

To reduce my anxiety, my growing tips consisted of naming things I could see, things I could hear, and things I could smell.

But all I could see were fingers trapping mine, all I could hear was the dead silence in the room and my blood pounding in my ears, and all I could smell was something pleasantly citrusy that would probably make me hate lemons for the rest of my life.

He unravels my fingers from around the gun with mechanical precision, touching only what he has to. I expected coldness, but his fingertips are warm against mine and I swallow again.

He pulls the gun out of my slack hands and my arms fall to my sides in defeat as he circles his way back to stand in front of me again, the gun with him now and the power roles completely flipped.

My head drops to stare at the floor as I lose the ability to maintain eye contact with him, my curly hair coming around as a curtain on the sides of my face. 

I see his hand come up, the gun slotted between his fingers effortlessly as he uses the cold tip to tilt my head upwards until my face is exposed to him again, my eyes meeting his.

He hums in approval as he sees the resolve leave my eyes.

His other hand comes up and he grips my chin roughly, keeping my face at level with his own.

He moves the gun to the side, brushing my dark hair out of my eyes with the muzzle at the front of the gun and his eyes track the movement.

"Rowan," he speaks roughly, his head tilted to the side with intrigue and his eyes move from my hair to my eyes.

"What?" I mutter, the combative snark in my tone reduced.

"My name. It's Rowan. I figured you should know," he says matter-of-factly.

"I mean, it's only fair. Since I know your name, Dalia," he pulls back from me completely, tossing the gun onto his desk carelessly and leaning back on it with an air of authority surrounding him.

My name rolls off his tongue smoothly, as if he were made to speak my name in that rough tone with a monotone edge. 

"Now, if you're finished acting like a little brat," he continues, his stare blank. "Let's talk."

I nod, ignoring his brat comment as my thoughts remain on my mama.

"I have a proposition for you," he says and I meet his eyes.

"Do you know who I am?" He asks me as if he's the president

"Obviously not." 

"Rowan Falcone," he says and that's when I know that I'm royally fucked.

As an aspiring lawyer, I know exactly who Rowan Falcone is. He is a multimillionaire who owns multiple clubs, restaurants and casinos in the city. There were rumours about his ties to the crime underworld, specifically the Italian mafia, and how his businesses were covers for corruption and racketeering.

No one could ever prove it because any time a case was built against him or his acquaintances, any evidence would 'suspiciously' disappear and any witnesses would either retract their testimony or go fucking missing. There were also rumours that Falcone had half of the police department in his back pocket so it's not like he could ever be caught doing anything.

Now the really interesting part is, what the absolute fuck does Rowan Falcone want with me?

I voice my concern, "And what the fuck does that have to do with me?" I tried to speak with a strong voice, I would eat shit before I showed fear to a man ever again after seeing the way it satisfied him.

"I'm getting older, and a man of my stature needs someone by his side," he spoke before dropping an absolute bombshell in my face.

"You're going to marry me, Dalia Alami."

♔ ♕ ♖ ♗ ♘ ♙♔ ♕ ♖ ♗ ♘ ♙♔ ♕ ♖ ♗ ♘ ♙a/n thoughts???