He was smiling.
He was fucking smiling at her.
No guns. No knives. No signs whatsoever that he wanted to strangle her. His hands were deep inside his front pockets and he was fucking smiling at her.
Khaye opened her mouth but that was it. She couldn't bring herself to ask what he was doing here or how he sneaked inside her apartment.
He took one step forward, his smile turning into a frown of concern. "You look like you are...expecting something else, Khaye."
"I...I just..." She couldn't very well tell him that her brother warned her about him—to stay away from him. As far as he knew, she wanted to stay away. "Why are you here?" she asked instead.
The smile returned on his face as he slowly closed the distance between them. "I have news," he said, his voice low, nearly a whisper.
Khaye held her breath. The fear that he was here to hurt her was still there, but it was slowly being replaced by the urge to pull him against her so they could do anything other than talk.
Finally, after a few breathless seconds, Marco was standing very close before her that his breath was brushing against her face.
"They're closing the case, Khaye." She wished he would touch her. She wished that he would do more than just stare at her lips.
"They are?" She didn't know if she ought to be happy about it.
"It's not what we want, but we can't do anything about it."
She didn't answer. She didn't feel like she should.
"That means one thing for you though," he said, his face coming closer beside her head. His lips were almost brushing against her bonnet.
"What?" she asked in a shaky voice.
"You can go home," he uttered. She started to shake her head no but he cut whatever protest she had in mind by saying, "Petroff has gone AWOL."
"What?"
"Petroff. He's gone. He's just gone and—"
"That can mean anything, Marco. And what about Gian—"
"We haven't really had enough evidence that your brother is a bad guy," he said. "He hasn't been doing anything malicious since you went away."
That's because he told me to go away. But she didn't tell him that. "I don't think, Marco. I don't think I can go back."
"You can." His voice was intense beside her ear. His hands went to her waist, squeezing both sides to emphasize his point. "You can because I have a plan."
Khaye's breath caught as his hands found the hem of her sweater. His lips trailed to her cheek, lightly making contact.
"You go back and make it public. We'll contact every media out there. They'll make a sensation out of your story."
"But I don't want—"
"Let me finish," he ordered, bringing his lips against hers, his skin causing a tingling sensation throughout her body as he spoke. "You'll be a public figure. You'll be in demand. And you'll be safe."
"I don't—"
He stopped her words by roughly pushing her sweater higher, his hands hot against her skin. "Going public will give you the safety that you'll need, Khaye. If you as much as disappear for more than three days, Petroff or anyone who is after will have the same amount of attention. We'll make it sure that they will. And you know how much they will hate that."
"It's going to be crazy, Marco."
"It's better than this life." He kissed her firmly. "Khaye, it will be better than this life you have here and you know it."
She was near to tears. How she wanted to get out of the apartment and go back to her old life. But Marco's plan was too risky, even for her. No one knew where Petroff might be. And she didn't know what Gian would do.
"If Gian will as much as lift a finger in front of you, I'll be there to kill him myself."
She couldn't talk to him if he was so close like this.
Her hand lifted to his chin as a tear rolled down her face. Everything in her was telling her she should believe him, yet there was also the risk that he might be doing this for some reasons only he knew.
"Just go back home with me. I'll make sure you'll be safe," he whispered almost achingly.
But she knew her answer. She knew what she'd tell him after tonight.
*****
Marco knew what he was doing was wrong. But he had to do it.
He brushed away whatever consequences would come his way later as he claimed her mouth, drawing in a sharp breath. He'd missed her this way, how her body felt against him, under his hands. He pinned her against the door. He pulled her sweater over her head, claiming her mouth the moment it reappeared. Her bonnet came off with her clothing.
"I need you," he rasped against her mouth. His hands worked with the button of pants. "I need you to go home with me, Khaye."
Her answer was only a whimper. She was lost in the moment and Marco smiled burying his face at the crook of her neck. He rubbed his hand against the soft fabric of her underwear and she was nearly undone.
He knew her answer even before the night was over.
Seduction wasn't the best strategy in his book, but this time it was the strategy he enjoyed doing.
*****
"Tatiana wants me to go to the auction today," Desiree announced after breakfast. They were inside his room and he just started dressing to go back underground for another emergency meeting.
"Going to the auction is not a good idea," he said, buttoning his shirt.
"Why?"
"It just isn't."
"In case you forgot, Theo, I had been there once. Remember?"
He looked up and stared at her dryly. "And as far as I can remember, you were not so eager to be there." He began to put on his shoes. "Why do you want to go there anyway?"
"Because Kane will be there?"
He stopped what he was doing to look at her again. "All the more reason why you can't go."
"I've been to a lot of places and never—not once—did you tell me no."
"Because now you have more reasons to suspect Kane after what I told you about her and however I tell you how ridiculous those reasons are, I know you will only put yourself in trouble by doing your investigation—which you can't clearly do without rising suspicion or curiosity. And almost all of the most powerful people underground will be there. You have not been officially welcomed underground, Des. We can't risk anything right now."
"I'll be with Tatiana and I won't do anything—"
"No. Just give this day a pass for once, please. Don't do anything reckless with the whole underground people present. And when I say whole underground people, I meant almost all."
"I'm going and you can't stop me," she insisted, making her way to the closet and away from him. "It's just a fucking auction. I may not even have the chance to see Kane. I'll just go there to observe, nothing more. I'll be very careful not to spill about your plans, don't worry."
"It's not what I'm trying to say. I'm saying there will be men out there who could be far worse than Vernier."Desiree almost shuddered at the memory.
She looked over her shoulder and shrugged. Turning her attention back to the dresses hanging before her, she said, "Well, I'm on my own now, right? I'm practically free from you. I did my end of our deal for my freedom four months ago so I am practically, really, on my own now. Well, except that I still live with you while we find the best way for me to go back to my life—and have sex with you every now and then, of course." Honestly, she didn't know why he was making a big deal out of the auction. True, she had never been to another underground gathering since four to five months ago, but she was aware what happened to such things and they could be as normal as anything in the normal world if she just watch her back. "I know how to take care of myself underground without compromising your plans, Theo. And it's not like you really care for—"
"Of course, I care for you, dammit!" Theo roared from across the room.
Desiree turned in shock, not because he practically shouted, but because of the anger and intensity laced in his voice. She stood perplexed and stupefied in her spot when she saw his face.
She didn't expect that from him. One moment they were just talking about the auction now he was angry because he cared for her.
"W—what?" she stammered.
"Don't act like you don't know," he snapped, taking his phone in his hand. "Fine. If you really want to go, I won't stop you. I'll need to call Richard. You are not going to that stupid auction alone."
"I'll be with Tatiana and—"
"Anyone could be there and there are a lot of people who wants you for a lot of reasons. They know you know too much already and with what had been going on underground, with Vernier and Petroff gone, who knows what might happen next? So shut the fuck up and don't suggest anything stupid."
"Theo, what did—"
"Again, Dess, you are not going alone. Tatiana can't protect you. That's final." He already had his phone against his ear.
"You have feelings for me?" she asked in amazement.
For a moment he looked lost as he frowned at her.
"You said you care for me."
"And I said, don't act like you don't know," he snapped again. "Richard's still not answering. I'll take you but on one condition: you leave when I leave."
"But I didn't know. I didn't know you have feelings for me."
His frown deepened. "Will you get over that? I already told you I do."
"But what kind?"
He looked at her incredulously. "What do you mean what kind?"
"Of feelings."
His gaze wavered. "Go dress up or you're staying here."
"What kind, Theo?" she demanded.
He closed his eyes to contain his frustrations. "I don't know. I don't know a lot of feelings so don't fucking ask."
"But how can you say—"
"Are we going to talk about this right now?" he asked in disbelief.
"Well, I'm willing to talk about it. Are you?"
"No, I'm not because I hate to explain what I feel."
"Even if it means I will never find out about it and I will be left wondering whether or not you sort of love me too? Okay, sure, fine." She nodded her head as she said it and turned around. "I'll go freaking dress up and pretend we didn't have this conversation—"
"You love me?"
"I'm sorry, Theo, I am no longer willing to explain what I feel," she said with a smile as she walked away from him.
"Desiree." His voice was full of warning.
"We'll be late and talking about feelings is such a great waste of time so why don't—"
Her words were left in her throat when he suddenly grabbed her hand and whirled her around to face him. "You love me." It was not a question and she saw a trace of a smile on his lips as he said it.
"Sort of," she corrected. "They can call it Stockholm syndrome or whatever, but I don't know. Maybe that's it, maybe not." She stared back at his dark eyes and beamed. "And you sort of love me too."
The corner of his mouth lifted higher as they gazed at each other for a while. He kissed her fully on the mouth before letting her go. "You didn't just tell me that so I'll let you go, didn't you?"
"What the fuck are you—"
"Okay. Go dress up. And no bare back, Desiree, I'm warning you. And cover that fucking tattoo."
She rolled her eyes and turned around. "God, I also sort of hate you," she murmured under her breath.
"I sort of hate you too," he answered back, this time his voice was laced with amusement.
As she decided on a dress, Desiree asked herself, "Did we just freaking confessed to each other?"
Well, it's not like it would change anything, she thought. But something inside her thought otherwise.
*****
"How did you find me?" Khaye asked.
Marco couldn't tell her the truth. He couldn't tell her that he had been tracing her movements from the moment she stepped on that bus.
"I found out Gian's been monitoring your movements," he said and hurriedly added, "But he had stopped two months ago. I don't know why. Maybe he thought you are finally safe and out of the way. Whatever his reasons were, I believe he just wants you to be safe, Khaye." It was not entirely a lie. It was true that Gian had been monitoring her as well, but he thought it would be good to let her believe his brother might not mean any harm.
She stared out the window of his car and he would give anything to know what she was thinking.
Of course, she agreed to go back to with him. But how willing was she? Would it cause him more problems or would his plans go smoothly as he wanted?
"I don't know what to say to them. I don't know if I can face it," she said after a while.
"You mean the press?" She nodded and Marco shifted in his seat behind the wheel. "Well, we better talk about what you'll tell them now."
She turned to give him a curious look.
"They're already waiting for you, Khaye. Right this very minute," he said, turning the car to the direction that led to a hotel. "And they came here just for you," he added.
*****
Theo's phone began to ring just as they were about to step out the door.
It was Richard.
"Right about fucking time," he said to his brother.
"Check the news," Richard ordered.
"Where the fuck are you?"
"Check the damn news!"
He turned to Desiree and said, "Turn on the news."
With a curious look, she went back to the living room and grabbed the remote.
There, on the screen, was a woman sitting behind a table looking scared as she was bombarded by questions and flashes of cameras.
"Who the fuck—"
"That's the fucking witness," Richard answered at the same time Desiree uttered, "Khaye," her voice barely a whisper and her face totally shocked.
"They must have taken her out of hiding now that Petroff is missing. This can get very bad, Theo, I'm telling you—" Richard was saying but Theo was no longer paying attention. He was looking at Desiree who looked like she was about to faint.
"We have to find her. I have to talk to her," she uttered in desperation. And then she turned to him, her eyes begging. "She's the only hope I have in clearing my name, Theo."
"And now we can't get to her because she has gone public. Petroff should have killed her the moment—"
"Shut the fuck up, Richard and don't do anything stupid," he interrupted firmly. He ended the call and walked toward Desiree to watch Khaye on the screen.
*****
"Why did you disappear?" someone asked. Khaye did not flinch as the flashes continued. She stared at the great number of reporters before her, all hungry for every word that came out of her mouth.
"I had to be safe," she answered, her voice back to normal now. She was actually feeling numb after just one minute of sitting in the middle of the conference hall. From the corner of her eye, she could see Marco standing alert with two other police guys who had already been in the hotel before they arrived.
"Do you know who killed Jamaica De la Vega?"
"I...I can't answer that," she uttered. She couldn't say anything. If she told them no, they'd pack up their bags and the public security they would offer would be gone. If she said yes, she'd have more people coming after her.
"Where is Desiree?"
"I don't know."
"Did she do it?"
"I...I can't answer that."
"What happened the night of the murder?" a woman nearly shouted.
"Jamaica De la Vega died," Khaye answered, her voice shaking. A tear fell from her eye as she stared hard at the woman. "She died and she didn't deserve it. I can't tell you everything you want to know because I am not privileged to do so. But whoever did it," she said, blinking back tears, "whoever did it will have to pay."
Marco stepped forward, a sign that it was over. Their goal was met. She had gone public and they had given just enough information to the press to assure her safety. They'd want more and they would keep coming back.
She let Marco lead her to the back door of the conference room with more questions thrown at her direction.
*****
Marco was satisfied.
This was Khaye's first public appearance since her name as the primary witness was revealed. And he was certain that the press conference would soon reach the entire state, if not the entire country, in no time.
And he was sure that Desiree would be watching.
And she'd eventually come out.
And he would be waiting.