"I can walk by myself." Giselle suddenly blurted after the elevator door slid close. Dean's grip tightened around her, showing no sign of obeying her words. She stared at his jawline which flexed and tensed regardless of how stone-cold his facial expression was. "Dean." She called his name in a serious voice when he seemed to be ignoring her purposely. "You can put me down now." When he didn't reply for the second time, she began to move by weakly kicking her feet in the air.
The minute she started to struggle inside his arms, Dean's eyes dropped to focus on her. "Do you not like it?" His voice came out rough like how it was inside the room earlier.
She paused fluttering her feet and then respond with a puzzling tone. "Of course, no. You're doing it in public. It's embarrassing if you're going to walk out through the lobby with me in your arms like this. This is my workplace. My coworkers will see me in this type of... situation."
"Who cares about what others think? If they spread bad words, then they'll have to deal with me." He murmured with brows held together tightly, displaying no evidence of a joke.
"Why is it that... you have to sound so threatening all the time?"
"I don't threaten people, Giselle. I can only do as much to keep you safe." He brushed his thumb gently over her shoulder through the thin fabric before he added, "And, I doubt they're still counting you as one of their employees now after all of the times that you were gone. Trust me, there are no other places better than my place. And you will not have to work or serve any of these people."
"Dean, I am serious. We can discuss all of that later. But for now... We're only going to attract more attention if you're going to carry me out like this." She paused to take a deep breath and blinked slowly. "I just feel... very tired and fatigued now." She tightened her lips, showing signs of giving up on begging him. "I don't have all the strength to keep arguing with you." She sighed before shifting her gaze down.
"It's because you don't have the strength and that's why I am carrying you out," Dean said sternly. Soon he added, "But, like I have told you before. The feeling that I have for you will make me do anything... anything that I am capable of... to make you happy." He gulped as he hesitated to add. "But, do you know what hurts me? It was when seeing you... smiled at another man. You don't have any strength when it comes to me as compared to that doctor. And, that's fine. If you're weak when you're around me, then I will be your strength to keep you guided."
"He's my friend, Dean-"
Her voice sounded protective and defensive. Dean hurried to cut off before she could speak any further. "I know he is your friend. And, I am aware of what you're going through right now. I don't forbid you from doing whatever you want to Vincent. But, all I want is for you... to treat me the same at least... just like how you treat others... just like how you treated me when we first met."
Giselle shifted in his grasp again, hoping he would release her. "I can't treat you like others. And you know the answer to it. You're not the same as others to me."
"I think it's best if we can just settle our conversation here." He muttered in a flat tone as disappointment drove bile up his throat.
"Dean, you're not listening to me."
"If I put you down, that would make me as listening to you, correct?" Slowly, Dean placed her down on her feet before straightening his back. His hand was still placed on her back, giving her extra support, to make sure that she was able to stand by herself steadily.
"That was not what I meant." She insisted but he was already turning his eyes to the door that slid open just a second after the bell dinged.
"I parked the car at the back of the hospital. We can just leave through that exit door." He said, ignoring her resistance to walking. He applied a bit of pressure on her lower back, making her walk against her will in his arm. Dean did not bother to cast her a glance as he observed the environment around him for any dangers.
After they got to the car, he opened the passenger's door for her. Quickly, he turned around to help her get into the seat.
"Vincent is my friend. We went to school together." She spoke when he did not utter a word. As soon as she sat her glute down, Dean pulled the seat belt and then wrapped it around her.
While doing so, he could feel her faint warm breath on his neck. Dean could feel himself getting aroused regardless of how upset he was with her. It seemed to him that his body's desire for her was out of control. He closed his hand around the seat belt buckle tightly, hoping to suppress his boner, as he shoved the buckle head into its place until he heard a click. However, that did not seem to take away his mind from the spontaneous warm breath of Giselle fanning over his neck. His heart began to pick up its speed unconsciously, preventing him from moving for a moment.
Giselle noticed him freeze in one spot. She thought he was waiting for her to continue her story before she carried on speaking. "You told me you wanted me to cry on your shoulders... and so I did. Or, was I wrong? Do you want me to keep on a fake smile in front of you? If that is what you preferred, then from now on, I will make sure to only show you what you wanted to see and-"
In the middle of her words, Dean turned his head to close her mouth with his abruptly. He could feel her teeth crushed unexpectedly into his lower lip at the same time that she startled. At first, he was thinking of deepening the kiss, exploring, and then licking her like how he had been wanted. He wished he could suck whatever medicine Vincent gave her back out. All he wanted was to fill her up with his everything and washed all of those drugs inside her circulation out since it was given by another man. She should only belong to him. Every inch and ounce of the fluid that runs in her circulation of her should have just come solely from him even if that was meant to be venom. Dean moved his hand to place on her left thigh as he felt himself getting heated up. His blood made its way to the wrong location. Instead of his cheeks giving him that shy blush, his boiling blood poured into his cock that seemed to be straining behind his zipper underneath his brief. Dean wanted to curse himself out loud for letting his desire take control of him. All he could think of at that moment was to f-
No.
He couldn't afford to think of that one phrase. Because if he allows that horrible idea to cross his mind, he was afraid that he wouldn't be able to make it out of the parking lot tonight. And, what was more significant than his need was her safety.
As he broke away hesitantly, his sharp gaze shifted to stare at her eyes. "Stop talking." He whispered. "Or, else..." He breathed in deeply as he pushed himself out of the back seat against his dark desire.
Giselle turned her head to watch him stand up straight. Just when she was about to speak, he closed the door. In that instant, she was left baffled. She was not sure what it was that he wanted. Judging from the way he spoke to her, she could tell that he was mad at her even though he was trying to play cool. Giselle wanted to ask what it was that he was going to say. What would happen if she didn't stop talking? Would he hurt her... or threaten her like how he did to others? Fear started to engulf her when she recalled who he was.
A mafia, indeed.
Inside the car, she dared to speak no words. It was dark. The only light source that got into the car was from the parking lot. It didn't take long until the car accelerated out of the lot. Giselle stared out the window, at the hospital where she once used to work at. For an inexplicable reason, it reminded her of who she was. The familiar setting to her eyes was no longer feeling familiar or home to her heart. The situation was foreign. It didn't feel the same as before. Back then, she was a nurse who saved lives with her friends while going against her family's will. As of now, she doubted if she could still claim that she has all of that. She was no different than a shell itself. She wished that she could find relief in shedding tears. But, it did not seem to help her feel any less sad and lonely.
When the car turned, the sight of the hospital disappeared from her point of view. And just like that, her old self was no different than being burned along with her family members. Her dried lips cemented together unconsciously as she shifted her gaze onto the road across from her. The city seemed to be quieter than usual. It was like a blink of an eye. The minute she woke up, her nightmare became the reality that she had no choice but to accept it. Whenever she recalled that her father has passed due to that man, Kevinskey, a violent headache would hit her head.
It was unbearable.
It was extremely unacceptable yet she had to accept the reality.
Crying to Dean was no different than crying to a statue. It seemed to her that he would never be able to understand her situation. She was aware that he hated his own father and that he was the boss of a mafia group. If she was to compare to herself, she loved her father at the very least and last. That one thing between her and him was the sole primary reason that drew a line between Dean's world and hers. And, she thought it would be fine as long as he was gentle with her. But, it was not the same as her initial expectation. The emotional comfort that she was seeking seemed to not be there. When he told her how much he missed her and loved her, she wished she could bring herself up to say it back. However, she couldn't do it. Giselle knew that she loved him. She loved how he looked at her, touched her, and how he called her name so delicately that it would take her breath away. She felt long for him even though she realized that it was a wrong sentiment for a person like Dean Winchester. He was strong and warm, but there was just one part of him that she just could not get adapted to. It was too icy cold and thrilling for her to explore.
Slowly, her eyes shifted from the road to the right hand that grabbed tightly onto the steering wheel. She did not utter a word as she observed the vein that ran from his knuckles and disappeared into his long sleeve. Those who don't know would have probably believed that those pairs of captivating hands are immaculate. But in Giselle's eyes, it brought back the image of them being drenched in dark red liquid.
She remembered it too well from that day. The way he stabbed and cuts Kevinskey in front of her eyes was far more than what a predator could do. Never had she ever thought of witnessing such a thrilling and cruelest scene. It was unforgettable and yet unforgiving. Her heartbeat sped up as the memories of that day flooded her head. For a second she could feel herself spinning. The taste of her own saliva turned bitter as more bile rushed against her esophagus causing her to feel nauseous at the thought of Dean cutting another human being. The sight of his face, neck, and hands bathed with somebody else's blood almost puts her in shock if it was not the medication that Vincent has given earlier. She was used to seeing blood. But what she was not used to was seeing Dean standing up straight with full confidence after taking someone else's life. That memory made her feel sick inside out. And it seemed to be impossible for her to even try and erase it from her head.
Giselle's eyes began to heat up as her vision on the streets started to become blurred. She squinted her eyes shut instantly when the warm tears made her eyes watery. She did not want to cry. She did not want Dean's attention on her now, not this very instant. She wanted to be in her own world and consoled herself if that was possible. She bit the inner part of her lower lip as tears made their way down her cheeks. She did not make any sound. The only sound that she could hear was the pounding of her heart against her rib cage. It was too forceful that it sent tremors to her hands and other parts of her body, contracting every inch of her muscles uncontrollably. Suddenly, she felt like she couldn't breathe. She was not sure of what to do to calm herself down besides closing both of her hands into fists over her thighs. She dug her short nails deep into the palm of her hands, hoping it would allow her to breathe slower and deeper. And just like that, she fainted without realizing it. Her head fell over to Dean's side, drawing his attention immediately.
He glanced over once and then again as shock took over him. "Giselle? What's wrong? Are you okay?" He asked in panic while seizing her body with one arm. He placed her head against his rock-hard deltoid while stabilizing her shoulder with his right hand. "Shit."
Without further thinking, he pulled the car to the shoulder of the road. Then he pulled out his phone to make a call to one of the Cobra's captains.
"Yes, boss?"
"Send a doctor to my penthouse now!"
"Yes, sir. Is there anything wrong?"
"I need a fucking doctor. I don't give a fuck who they are. Hurry the fuck up before I fucking kill your fucking ass!" He hissed loudly and then tossed his phone into the cup holder. Instantly, he accelerated the car back onto the road and drove over the speed limit, directing his way to his penthouse.
Giselle woke up to the sight of the familiar high ceiling. She blinked a few times to try to gather her thoughts together before the weight over her knee hit her. Her eyes slanted slightly to the right to see Dean's face resting near her elbow with one hand holding onto her knee protectively. And then it struck her again when she noticed that he was sitting in the chair and not on the bed. She gulped as her gaze shifted to the IV bag that hung next to the bed and connected to her hand.
Her eyes soon landed on Dean again. She stared quietly at his peaceful face that held no grudge or threat or tenseness. She wished he would look like this every day and every time that he was with her. It was an expression that she felt yearned for. If only he did not grow up in the mafia, maybe he would've been more than a decent man. He would have been more than a gentleman who loves his woman too much. Giselle felt apologetic for him by just simply thinking about what he had been going through. She knew that it was not his choice. Circumstances were factors that forced him to become what he so called a monster. He deserved more than what he had. In addition to the wealth and power, his life was miserable. Giselle pondered if he ever gets to sleep without worries for once. Had he ever had nightmares about all of the things he'd done? Was there a moment where he may have found himself enjoying what he was doing? Giselle hoped to ask him those questions one day. But, today she did not want to wake him up from his peaceful sleep at all. If she could, she would spend all day staring at his face just like now.
After several minutes have passed, she decided to bring her hand up slowly to place it over his head. She wanted to stroke him gently and carefully. She wanted to take care of him like how others have never done to him. But, the second that her fingers touched him, his eyes shot wide open at the same time that every inch of his muscles tensed. It was like a predator. Giselle stared without a blink when seeing him turning into a defensive mode in less than a breath.
After making eye contact with Giselle, Dean released a loud sigh. She gulped and then murmured to him, "Good morning, handsome."
His tensed face relaxed as a smile formed over his dry lips. "Handsome?" He repeated at the same time that he lifted his head from the bed and then took her hand in his. He straightened his back briefly before lower his face to the bed near hers once again. "Did I hear that right?"
"Maybe not," Giselle replied sarcastically.
"You're going to have to call me more than once then. So I can be sure that I am not mistaking anything." He added with a tender smile. He moved his hand to place on her belly through the thick blanket and then continued speaking. "Do you feel better now?"
"I think so."
"That's okay. I will get a doctor here to check on you again."
She nodded slightly.
"We're in my penthouse now." Dean's voice turned serious. "I know... it's not the best idea to bring you here, especially with what happened here between us." He lowered his voice when memories of him forcing her rose to his mind. "I was stupid-"
"Don't mention it again," Giselle muttered. "I just want to keep moving on... I've told you myself to let go of what happened in the past... because it was impossible to change history. It's only right if I follow my own words."
"Giselle," He murmured while stroking her hair. "Let's talk more about this after you make a full recovery, okay? I don't want what happened last night to happen again." He leaned his face closer to hers until his lips came in contact with her smooth forehead.
"Okay." She respond with a small reluctant smile as he traced his lips down to her nose.
Suddenly, Dean backed away. "I forgot about my morning breath."
Giselle let out a short giggling sound that lasted just one second. "You're just realizing that now after we did more than that?" The minute she came to a full sense of what she was saying, she hurried to purse her lips.
Dean smirked as he removed a strain of her hair from her cheek. "Don't worry. We have a lot of time to catch up with that."
"I did not mean it that way."
Dean chuckled in his deep morning voice as he replied smugly. "Oh, I certainly do mean whatever I said."