'Cause this is crazy love,
I'll catch you on the flip side
—Lana Del Rey/California
"So, you're friends with criminals."
It's almost a summary of my life. One that leads me to do what I do. And it's not a lie. I am tired of lying to him. So sick of it. Yet one thing he fails to highlight from those words alone is I am actually also a criminal.
"I told you I'm not good for you." It's not the first time I feel ashamed of myself. Disappointed by my past decisions. But him being here, it multiplies what I am already feeling. It becomes too real.
I regret what I did, but I have yet to find a solution to fix it.
I knew I had a choice to halt my plan. And I didn't choose it because I needed those people to stop breathing down my neck. And since they got what they wanted, they have been quiet. I only hope it will last forever. That they keep their word.
"And I said I don't care." He scoffs, probably regretting to take my warning lightly.
I look at him. His trust I betrayed. His face I lied to. I owe him everything.
"I'll pay it all back." I say. Determined, knowing well it won't fix anything.
His eyebrow raises at that. "So, you have 200 millions?"
"No. But I have gemstones that are worth—"
"Let me guess. They're stolen possessions." His words shut me up immediately. I kind of wince at the harshness of his tone. But I get it.
He has every right to me mad. To yell at my face even. He doesn't have to hear my explanation. Or to believe me after all the things I've put him through. Yet here he is.
I look away from him and proceed to stand. My bare feet step on wet paint, but I can't care less.
"I can't get your paintings back." I state. I am being honest. They are somewhere I can't reach. At unknown location, hidden away from the world. They will probably kill me if I dare to try.
I turn to him when I am on a safe distance. His face is hard to read, but those eyes show nothing but hatred. Just what I deserve.
"This house's worth forty million and the rare diamonds—"
"How long have you been doing it?" His question cuts off my offer. His voice still cold, void of emotions.
I hold his gaze, knowing well what he means. How long have I been deceiving people? "Long enough."
"Was it fun?" His jaw tightens. As though he's suffering to say it. As though he can't believe a girl like me pulling that foul scheme.
I pause, trapped in the depth of his eyes. They dare me to deny it, to lie again.
"Initially." I answer frankly, swallowing the hard lump in my throat. "In the end, it feels kinda pointless."
"It becomes boring." He corrects me, eye narrowing, judging me. "You never failed."
I laugh. "I'm failing now."
"Hardly." He murmurs. A beat of silence between us. "Who are these bad people?" His question makes me uneasy.
"It's better that you don't know." I say quietly.
He chuckles humorlessly. "You don't think I deserve to know?"
"They're dangerous and—"
"I can handle it." He states. The rage in his eyes is noticable. A lot of things he's capable of, a lot of things money can buy, but not this. This side doesn't belong in his world.
I shake my head in apology. "I'm not telling you. And it's to protect you, not them." Only the truth this time.
"You really have no idea what you put me through, don't you? What it takes to be here right now." He sounded so bitter. So heartbroken. And I have to look away because I am crying.
"I'm really sorry." My voice is too quiet, I don't know if he hears me right. "I swear I'll pay—"
"It's not about the money, Violet!" He snaps. I think he never raised his voice at me before. And I think, he realizes it, too because then, he looks like he's trying to control his emotion. "Can't you see?"
"What do you expect me to do?" My question sounds like a plea. Ugly tears run down my cheeks as I'm begging him to tell me how to fix this.
"Come here." He says suddenly.
A confusion over my face. "What?"
"Come here." He repeats. "Please." I do. I take steps toward him. Slowly. Unsurely. When I am on his reach, he immediately pulls me by my wrist. "I miss you in my arms." He whispers as I fall right into his embrace.
The sudden move shocks me, but as realization hits, I melt and sob harder.
His hold tightens around me. And I can almost hear him mutter, "fuck," under his breath.
He's most likely regretting this. But I feel like I understand it in some way. As though he can't help himself and decide to be lost in the center of the storm instead.
"I screwed up. I'm so sorry." I say against his chest, between my sobs and his hushed whisper.
"Damn right you did." He murmurs, yet his hand soothing my back. A contradiction of his words.
God, I don't deserve him. I am such a monster. I'm selfish. I am a liar. I am everything he should avoid.
"I don't know how to fix this, Dave." I tell him truthfully. There's no way to fix this.
He sighs. He looks and sounds tired. Like my betrayal affects him more than he lets on. "I really love those paintings." He says.
It only makes me cry harder and his absurd response is laughing. The man laughs. As if he finds the situation funny. He has a weird coping mechanism.
"I love them, too." I reply. His button down is soaked with my tears, but he doesn't seem to mind.
"Tell me who's behind it. Who's threatening you?" He questions, deadly calmer this time.
"No. They'll kill you. They—"
"Are they in the mafia? Based in New York?" My eyes widen and I make a mistake to look up at him in surprise. He frowns, seemingly raking his brain. "Wait, Valenti? Vitto Valenti?"
His eyes narrow. Those flames of rage ignite.
"How can you—"
"That motherfucker." He curses under his breath, hand curling in a fist on my back. I can tell he's furious as he's learning another fact about me. "How the hell are you acquaintanced with him?"
I also want to ask how he knows him, but I don't think it's my place to.
I divert my gaze. "It's a long story."
"Well, I have time." He retorts sarcastically.
I hold back rolling my eyes, deciding for honest answer. "I was indebted to him."
"How?"
I take two steps back and he lets me. His arms fall back to his sides.
"What else?" I utter sourly. "I stole from him and it apparently didn't end well."
He's registering my words before finally asking. "What did you steal?"
"Diamonds. Not any diamonds, of course. It's seventy carat and its history goes way back to Ottoman era. The Idol's Eye." I explain reluctantly.
Images of flashbacks are playing in my brain like a hidden memory. Not a single day passes without me regretting the decision. I shouldn't mess with him at the first place.
His eyes tell me he recognizes the jewel piece. As a collector, Dave definitely knows what I am talking about.
"You're serious." It's more like a statement than a question. A statement to convince himself. "You're truly a thief."
I smile sadly.
"I don't belong in your world." I say instead. Telling him what I'm telling myself for months. "It's a misfortune that you cross path with me."
He slips his hands into his pockets. His composure calm as ocean. "Not entirely."
I look at him like he's crazy.
He just shrugs. "I know Valenti. And I might or might not be doing something to upset him years ago." He adds casually. I raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to elaborate, but he doesn't. They have a history he's not willing to share.
His tone turns bitter. "I just don't expect his method to be so cowardly. Besides, my Le Rêve and Danaë doesn't compare to his shitty diamonds."
I let his latter words slide. The diamonds and the paintings surely have different value, but at the same time, they're holding a strong historical background.
"How can you know him?" I choose to ask in the end.
"Business." He answers curtly.
I don't press further.
New York is filled with dirty business. It shouldn't be surprising to find they're kinda familiar with each other. And it shouldn't bother me that much.
"Please, don't confront him." I suggest. It's the best that we don't fall into his cobwebs. I won't make it out alive for a second time.
"Did you sleep with him?" His question is out of nowhere. Like an intrusive thought he just decides to let out. It catches me off guard.
I pause for seconds longer. And I know he has known the answer. "Once."
"Once, huh?" His eyes darken, dripping in jealousy and other things I can't describe. "And you got to snatch The Idol's Eye?"
I know he doesn't trust me, but I am telling him the truth.
"He had an on-off girlfriend. A woman he always got back to." I reason. "I merely became a distraction. Vitto Valenti was an easy target, but I was also easy to catch back then."
"So unfortunate." He replies mockingly. He's pissed somehow. His switch of emotions is quite scary.
I ignore his sarcasm. "What are you going to do now?"
His reply is nonchalant. "I'll get those paintings back. I just need to make a plan first."
"Please, listen to me—"
"Why? Why should I?" He interjects, his irritation pouring. "I'm just going to clean up your mess."
It kind of shuts me up immediately. He's right. I started all of this.
"I apologize." I look down at my feet because I can't bear to look into his eyes.
"And the forgiveness will come a long way." He admits candidly.
His words hurt, but I get it.
I nod.
"Now that I have free time, will you show me your works?" I steal a glance at him as he looks around at the wall I'm painting and the colorful canvases scattered on the floor with interest. "I need to know how you could make such a big fuss in my life."
"You said I'm a shitty painter." I point out. Despite that, a smile threatens to show.
He has the nerve to raise his eyebrow.
"I know you are."
🍬🍬🍬
I sometimes hate that Dave has a soft spot for her (though I'm the one who wrote it, lol).
What do you think about this chapter? Love it? Hate it?