"What are you doing? Are you not going to work today?" Giselle questioned when Dean brought a bowl of warm water out along with a small white towel from the bathroom.
"I figured you might want to at least get washed up." He replied as he sat the glassy bowl down on the nightstand. "So, while I am free, I will do whatever I can to help you."
"Is that an indirect way of saying I smell?" She murmured with a fake frown even though what he said made her heart flutter like how they had always been together.
Dean furrowed his brows at her and shook his head. "I can't tell if you're joking. But no." He began to roll his sleeves while staring at her. "What? You don't believe me? If you're not ill, I would've fucked you just to prove it." He noticed her avoiding his gaze shyly. Lowly, he let out a brief giggling sound. "I'm just kidding. I won't do anything to you until you're all recovered and of course, with your permission." Her ears turned pinkish as she turned her head aside pretending to look at the clock on the wall. "And to answer your question, no, I am not going to work today. I am the boss. Who's going to fire me? Me? Or my dead father? I doubted he would be able to crawl out of that deep grave just to do so."
She shifted her eyes back to focus on him before replying softly, "Don't say that." He finished rolling his sleeves as she continued speaking in a more defensive tone. "That's disrespectful. He was your father after all."
"If only he ever saw me as one of his sons. Whatever it is, I'm not going to get into that today since you're not physically well." He responded and then shrugged his shoulders. Giselle heaved out a loud sigh giving in to his behavior when he carried on talking. "Anyway, I've called for some Thai food takeout. I am not sure if you can eat it. I just know they have some plain rice with some soup or whatever the name of it is. It's better than junk foods to help speed up your recovery. I believe it should arrive sometime soon. After you eat it, then you can take your medicine. The doctor that came last night said to take it with a meal, so you don't get an upset stomach." She nodded shortly after he settled onto the bed next to her. His gazes were fixed on hers regardless of the change in his position. "Does it still hurt?" He asked, softening his tone. "The bruises on your face are not fading that much. I'm worried." He lifted his hand to tuck a strain of hair behind her ear before hovering his thumb over her brow and temple region. "This is..." He went speechless for a second before he found his voice again. "Fuck, I swear on my life that no hands will touch your skin like this ever fucking again. You can hold me to the oath that I made for you." She didn't say anything but nodded her head once again as memories of Kevinskey's hand slapped her recalled briefly. The touch from Dean brought her back to reality while he spoke. "I will just clean around the area. Tell me if it hurts."
Quickly he grabbed the small white towel and then dipped it into the warm water. He twisted it a bit too removed the excess water before turning back to face her. "It looks like you have a lot of experience with this kind of stuff." She commented after studying his hands' movements. They looked very skilled for someone like him to do something that is not within the scope of violence and blood. A smile crept up on his lips as he brought the towel closer to her forehead.
He pressed it gently against her skin while clearing his throat in a deep noise, which sounded similar to that of the growling sounds. For some reason, it unexpectedly made her startled. Surely, it was not out of fear. Her eyes traced up from one of his hands to his collarbones that peaked through the unbuttoned portion of his shirt. At that moment, she found herself second-guessing what may lay beneath that high-quality white fabric of his. Would it be the same old scars that she used to see? Or would there possibly be more new ones added to his collection?
During all of the periods that they have not been together, what could have happened to him? What changes to his body that she yet to discover? The need to find the evidence developed within her. The proof of every incident would be on his body. All it would take was for her to see it and catch it with her own eyes. Since in the hospital, Giselle doubted he was telling her the truth regarding the injuries on his face. Something must have happened that she did not know about. There was just something about him that she felt had changed.
Her eyes shifted down slightly to his pectoral muscle that was pushing hard against his shirt, putting tension onto the small buttons that tried to keep his shirt together. With every breath he took, she felt like those buttons would be sent off flying at any unpredictable second.
At the thought of it, Giselle could feel her heartbeat speed up, pumping blood to her body, making her feel alive regardless of how weak her body condition was. She could not help prevent the ill thought towards Dean from forming when his body was so close in front of her. She wondered if it was because she had not seen him for a long time. Or was it just a normal female instinct? Giselle gulped when her eyes dropped back to his arms full of veins.
I must've gone crazy. What medications did they give me? She thought after finding herself fluttering at the sight of his muscular arms that were tightly hugged by his white rolled-up sleeves.
Suddenly, his voice drew her attention back to his eyes. "I wouldn't say I had a lot of experience of doing it to someone else. But I had to do it to myself quite often as I grew up. I didn't have a mother like others. My father did not give a shit about it. Either I fetched my wounds and injuries, or he would send me straight to the hospital."
She gulped, hoping he did not notice her reaction to his touch. "That doesn't sound very pleasant, I guess."
He moved the towel passed her cheek where a bandage covered her cuts. He lightly dapped the area near her jawline and then traced it down to her chin as he sighed briefly. "Of course, not. And I hated the idea of having my father's men touch me, so I would rather do everything by myself." He paused as he withdrew the towel from her face. "And, then there's you."
"Me? What about me?" She raised one eyebrow, purposely trying to mask her warm flushing cheeks.
"Well, I think it was since our first encounter. A pretty bad first impression I left you there." He turned to dip the towel into the bowl as he continued speaking.
Giselle couldn't help taking her eyes off of him with every movement he made.
"Remember the first day when you stopped my bleeding after I ran out of the hospital? It was quite shameful on my end to let some strange women see that side of me. I didn't trust just random people to touch me... I think I've told you before about my experience regarding that disguised doctor who wanted to take my life. You were lucky that day, I guess... Usually... you know that type of trauma or should I call it reflex, the way I respond to a certain situation, it started to become a habit and a survival instinct for me. If only, you weren't so soft with me..." He paused for a few seconds, not wanting to mention the violent side of the truth. Instead, he inhaled and said, "To sum it up, that was why I had to make sure you get back out that day. From that on, it just doesn't feel the same anymore. I was not who I am today... otherwise..."
The topic turned serious all of the sudden. The expression on Dean's face said it all. Giselle's attention turned back to focus on his words when he did not finish what he was speaking.
Dean glanced at her eyes before he wiped the area around her neck. She closed her eyes slowly, enjoying the gentle and warm sensation that applied to her throat. Dean noticed the tightening of her brows when he moved to the area close to the long cut.
"Otherwise, what?" She whispered with curiosity.
Dean paused his hand close to the cut while his eyes stared deeply into the white bandage. "Maybe I wouldn't be as gentle as now." He replied before moving his hand to wipe the other side of her throat.
Physically and only for you.
He added in his mind.
My gentleness towards people and human beings probably died on the day that I thought I've lost you. Sorry to tell you the lie. But you deserve to only see the white side of a coin. If I was to tell you the truth, I doubted you would look at me the same way because I know I won't be the same old me. I can't afford to be weak. I can't lose you for the second time. I would kill myself for it. You're the first, and everyone else's life, including mine, is the last.
Dean clenched his teeth briefly when he couldn't help but glance at the cut at her throat once again. The ugly violent images were recalled inside his head, and it triggered his cruelty. If he could bring Kevinskey back to life, he swore to tear that old man bit by bit into shredded pieces with the most crucial pain that a man could inflict on a living being. He would skin him alive if he had to. But it seemed to him that a chance like that would never come around again with the fact that the man was left with nothing but ashes in that abandoned building.
Suddenly, a faint sound of Giselle's painful moan hits his ears. And that was when Dean found himself tightening his grip on the towel while applying heavy pressure against her throat way too hard.
"Oh, my bad." He jolted while his lips murmured quickly. Soon after, he removed his hand away from her. "I just... zoned out a little bit."
"That's okay. I thought you were trying to remove something."
He faked a smile out of guilt and then hurried to change the topic before it turned to the story of the cut at her throat. The last thing he wanted was to make her reminisce about the history of that cut. The damage that others have done to her physically was enough. There was no need to remind her of how she hurts herself due to all of those shocking sights she had to witness. Dean was afraid that the same reaction would happen if he ever did anything to trigger those images back into her head. It was the last thing he ever wanted. And, if he could, he would do anything to erase it from her memories. "Well, now we are done with the top proportion. It's time to take this off." He placed the towel onto the bowl before moving his hands back to her shirt buttons.
"Wait," she said and then seized his hand that was faster than the tentacle.
"What? I've seen everything."
"I know... but still..." Her voice faded out while the grip of her hand relaxed over his. "Okay, I guess I have no choice."
"Yes, no choice at this moment." He smirked while his hands began to move from one button to the next, unbuttoning everything slowly and delicately. Soon, he opened her shirt apart, revealing her beautiful breasts. However, he became stunt for a few seconds after seeing the dark bruise over her ribs and the area below her left clavicle. "You're fucking kidding me." He spoke in a deadly tone of voice without realizing it as heat rushed to his face. His grips around the thin fabric grew tighter meanwhile his eyes traced the deep dark brown color that faded to red, to purple, and pink, plastering all over her beautiful fair skin like that of the tattoos, except it wasn't a tattoo. It was bruising that Dean was never aware of.
Noticing the tense expression on Dean's face, Giselle hurried to cross her hands over her chest. "It's been a long time now. The bruise is nothing. I am healing well." Her action earned her their attention from him, but he immediately turned to look at her eyes instead. "I'm okay. I am a nurse, remember? I can tell if the bruise is not healing right. Mine is healing just fine. It's just taking some time since I am... you know... not very strong and fit like you." She reassured though her voice lacked confidence.
His brows relaxed before he forced himself to nod to her words. He chose to give in, not because he wanted to, but because he did not want to stir up the negative memories inside Giselle psychologically. He gulped as he brought one hand to her shoulder and brushed his thumb lightly against her throat. "If you say so... then..." He paused in baffle as he couldn't get the sick idea of how that bastard, Kevinskey, managed to cause such a brutal injury on someone so weak and fragile as him. He inhaled again as he tried to gather his thought and courage. "I assumed I can clean the area around it... without risking you getting infected, right?"
"The medication should help too. It's okay as long as you're being cautious about it." She replied at the same time she uncrossed her arms slowly.
"Should I get a professional to do it instead? I don't think I can. I don't trust myself to do something that is so... vulnerable. You know what? I will tell one of my men to get a doctor here. I am afraid I will-" He stood up immediately, prepared to call for his man, but the small hand seized his wrist, making him pause in his movement.
"Wait, Dean!" She called his name, making him look at her, eyes filled with overwhelming concerns and distress. "I trust you. And it's going to be fine. I am a nurse. I will guide you if you're worried that much. You will be fine." She tucked at his hand softly before adding, "Don't leave me. I don't want to be alone. And I don't want another person to do this... Do you want someone else to see me... half-naked?"
"Fuck no," He replied with no hesitation. "But I don't mind if it's a female doctor. It's just them doing their jobs."
"That's not the point, Dean."
"Giselle, I've already made mistakes earlier by applying too much force onto your neck. Do you think I would be able to control my strength over those bruises? What if I accidentally hurt you any worse than that?"
"Do you think other people would consider that? They might make the same mistakes as you did. Doctors make mistakes too regardless."
"Giselle, why don't you listen to me?" He softened his tone.
"I am listening to you. You're just overthinking everything. I said, it's fine and you're going to be doing just fine."
He exhaled loudly, "But, you know... that I am not used to being so gentle... to someone else. I don't do that kind of thing."
"So, you don't do this kind of thing even for me? I started to understand now what type of things you meant when you said you were willing to do for me." She bit her tongue briefly, regretting what she said.
"I am willing to do other things for you... because I know that doing those things won't harm you. But if I do this... I will surely hurt you whether that may be an accident or not. I am not good at this. And I don't want to try."
"So, you're telling me... you're only great at other things that require physical force? You've told me once that you didn't want me to see you... as one of the Cobra members or other mobsters. You told me a lot of times that you wanted me to treat you the same. And I wanted you to start doing what other normal people do... if you wanted that kind of treatment from me and everyone else around you."
"Everyone else is meaningless to me except you." He corrected firmly in a serious tone. His eyes darkened as he stared down at her. He watched her for a second. She looked like a defeated prey, trapped in the claws of a predator like him. He felt no different than another type of specie that doesn't seem to be right to coexist with her. Up until now, he had just realized that he couldn't be like others. His actions unconsciously displayed his true form. And it was not something that he wished to be. He gulped as he felt a lump inside his throat forbidding him from speaking his thoughts. "It's not that I don't want to be like other people to you... but..."
"I don't see why you have to make a big deal out of this. It's not like I am asking you... to do anything bad for me. How are you going to say you love me when you can't do something so simple for me? All I need is for you to do something...that someone who fell in love would. And... I just feel like... I can't earn something like that from you. I don't need you to kill for me. I just want you to love me...by treating me like how other lovers do to each other."
"I think this is going a bit too far. Let's calm down first." His voice showed no sign of warmth. It sounds rather cold and stoned to her ears and heart.
"If you don't want to do this, then I can do it myself. You said earlier yourself that you didn't like strangers touching you, and that was why you learned to do things on your own. It is the same thing for me. Do you think... I can watch someone else touching me, after what I've gone through. I haven't told you what happened to me that night, have I?" Dean opened his mouth wanting to speak, but Giselle cut him off by adding, "Because after you hear it... you will understand why I am acting this way. I don't want to burden you either, but that's fine. You can leave if you want to. I won't stop you. But just don't call the doctor, please. I don't need them to touch me in such an intimate way. I can take care of myself." She said at the same time she buttoned up her shirt back.
Before she could finish buttoning up her last button, Dean settled back onto the bed and grabbed her small hand. "Hey, look... I'm sorry. I was just worried."
"I know you were. You can let go now. It's my fault for pushing your limit. I should've known the boundary."
Just when she tried to shake his hand off, Dean raised another hand to place it on her cheek. "The medication might have had some effects on your mood... I am sorry that I didn't think earlier."
She stayed silent, allowing his hand to peel her hand off of the fabric.
"Now, let me make up for my mistake. Tell me what to do. I will try my best to follow your instructions." He said before forcing a smile on his lips to encourage her. She didn't smile in return besides staring at his chin to avoid his gaze. "Giselle," He called her name while his thumb brushed lightly against her soft cheek. "I promise, I won't do this again."
Several seconds passed before her eyes grew watery. In a low tone of voice, she murmured, "How many times... have you been giving me promises... only to not keep them?" She raised one hand, which was attached to the needle of the IV tube, to brush his hand away from her face.
"Giselle," He whispered her name. "I'm sorry."
She shook her head briefly and then glanced up to stare him in the eyes. "Stop apologizing, Dean. I don't want to hear it from you... It made me feel guilty the more you said it to me. It's like I am forcing it out of you regardless of whether you did nothing wrong. I don't want to hear it anymore..."
Dean gulped and then withdrew his hands from her. "Is it because of what happened last night?" His voice came out serious with a deeper tone.
"No."
"Was it... because of what I have done to Vincent then?"
Giselle shook her head and then inhaled sharply to prevent the saliva from running down from her nose. "Vincent is my best friend, Dean. My feeling towards him is no more than just a friend. I am tired of repeating the same thing over and over again when you don't even bother to believe me or listen to what I am telling you. And I want you to see that. I don't want anything between us to have anything to do with Vincent. He's just my friend. And I want to warn you..."
Her voice sounded weak. Dean stared at her without a blink. Her warning did not sound so alarming or threatening to his ears. Somehow, it did make him pause breathing for a second when she was about to finish what she was saying. He had never felt so anxious whenever it comes to hearing a warning out of another person's mouth. But, today, in this very moment, he could feel his heart skip a beat in a thrill, second-guessing how far she could go. And, whether that may be the possibility of what she might do, letting her go would be his last wish.
Giselle proceeded, "I'm warning you... do not hurt my friends whether that person is Vincent or Luna. I am defending them against you as a friend because I know... that you have the power to do everything that they can't. And it's not because I don't see you as someone I can protect... It's because I trust you that you can protect yourself... and me... and your men."
His brows grew tensed as he held her gaze without a blink. She was like a broken prey in his predator's claw. Tears that displayed in her eyes represented weakness and fragility. Dean studied her watery eyes and the movement of her trembling pink lips. It was hard to convince him. It was hard to fall into someone's words. But, after seeing Giselle broken down mentally, emotionally, and physically, it was even more difficult for him to not believe her. His hand muscle twitched, wanting to wipe the tears off of her face but could not afford to.
"I believe you." He finally spoke. His voice came out rough, showing no sign of what a normal person's empathy should sound like.
Giselle shook her head. "You're slowly making me disbelieve in you. I don't even know when you will act on your own emotions again."
Dean did not utter a word as he stayed still staring at her, waiting for her to explain her reasons.
"I think I don't need your help today. I want to be alone. You can leave. I won't stop you from calling a doctor either. My migraine is coming back... I don't want to argue anymore. It's very tiring."
Suddenly, a few knocks on the door drew their attention.
"I think the food is here. Let me help- "
"I am not hungry. I want to rest." She murmured while lowering herself back onto the bed. When Dean did not leave, she turned her back to him at the same time she pulled the thick blanket over herself. Dean got up from the bed when he felt her trying to pull the fabric beneath his glute. Instead of watching her tucking herself to sleep, he bent over to help spread the blanket over her body, making sure it covers her shoulders and feet.
After he was done, he straightened his back and watched her in silence. He was not sure of how a happy morning could turn into such a bitter situation faster than a bullet could pierce a man's head. He never had trouble getting Giselle to talk to him in the past. But, at this very moment, it felt different. He could not tell what it was, but he still couldn't stop thinking of her. For some reason, seeing how displeased she was with him made him feel quite upset deep inside his gut. It was not the familiar feeling that he was used to when he was around her.
Dean stared at her from behind, knowing that she was still wide awake, anticipating for him to disappear out of her sight. If she was not ill, he swore he would have to get into the same bed as her and would make sure they make up before noon arrived. However, the fact that she was ill made the entire situation foreign to him. He was not used to pleasing people. All along he had only learned how to displease his father. And that was when he realized that he had never actually tried to please Giselle. He couldn't remember the times when he had to try to. It had always been her trying to please him. Whether that was for Richard Chu or not, it wouldn't make a difference. Now that the table had turned, it left him isolated and unsettled. There was something that needed to be done, but he was not sure of what it could be.
Dean noticed her grip around the blanket formed tighter into almost a fist. He wondered if his presence was bothering her. Or was she no longer wished to be seeing him? He clenched his teeth briefly before deciding to turn around and make his way to the door.
The second he opened the door, one of his men raised a white plastic bag. "Boss, the food you've told me to order is here."
Dean closed the door behind his back quickly. He cast a glance at the white bag before proceeding to make his way toward the elevator.