-"I'd rather die young with you than live long without you."-
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"I haven't asked my questions. So I get 3 now," he mumbled in her ear.
"Fire away," she told him.
"Why are you here?" he asked, taking his hands away from her body through his hands had never felt more empty and her body never felt colder.
"Well, I had to find the person that shot me. So here I am," she spoke calmly.
A sudden rage ran through his body like adrenaline.
"I got it covered, Diavola," he grumbled darkly.
"I saw," she responded, remembering how he looked in the center of the fire with his eyes clear of the storm and blood coated on his clothing.
She had never been more attracted to anyone in her life at that moment. She kept telling herself that it was just a little crush and nothing more, but her feelings were developing too fast. Was she psychotic to be attracted to murderers?
Yes. Yes, she was.
"Where have you been?" he questioned.
"Healing," she shrugged.
Good. Good that she finally had some common sense and rested. He wanted to say it to her face. To tell her how reckless she was being. But he simply nodded and went quiet, knowing what else he wanted to ask her.
Something he had been wondering since he saw her. He had been waiting for this moment for ages. It had been eating him alive, leaving him restless each night.
The King.
Was the King a woman?
Was she the King? Was she her own right hand?
Would it too be straightforward to ask her? What would he even do with this information? No one would believe him if he tried to blackmail. Was he stupid for even thinking this? And would she even answer honestly? No, she wouldn't.
He had no proof to think this way. All he was going off of was an assumption and theory. God, he wanted to rip his hair out. But this woman, if she was the King...then he wouldn't know what to do with himself.
He had touched the person who had killed more people than he could count. This person owned countries and had governments under her control. The King had all the power in her palm.
If...if, he was a woman.
His head hurt. He was going insane each passing moment.
But he had to try.
"Okay, last question-" he started, looking into her dark eyes as if testing the waters to see if it was safe. She raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to go on but not expecting what was going to come out of his mouth.
"Is the King a woman?"
The million-dollar question had been asked.
Silence.
There was only silence.
Her body went completely rigid, her mouth parting as if looking for words but too stunned to speak.
"What? No. How in the world-" she quickly stated as if he was insane. He put his hands up defensively.
"Just checking," he said calmly.
"Why would-" she started again before he interrupted.
"I just had to check. If you could fool everyone then I had good reason to think that the King was doing the same," he explained. She looked at him as if he'd grown two heads as she struggled to find words, shock taking over.
He wasn't sure if he felt like a genius or the stupidest person on the planet.
"Are-" he started asking a question. But it was her turn to interrupt.
"That was three," she quickly said, still in a state of shock.
"Just one more," he sighed, not wanting the cold Midnight back or the conversation to end.
"No," she muttered. The phrase would make anyone shut up and look down, too intimidated to face her, but all he did was see a challenge.
"I'll beg, Diavola," he told her with his lip curving upwards.
"Then beg," she spoke her face laced with mischief but no emotion. In a split second, he sucked in a breath of air in preparation for his proclamation. He got down on his knees and held her hands.
"PLEASE, PLEASE. JUST ONE MORE QUESTION. I WILL-" he shouted at the top of his lungs making the birds from the trees fly away.
Midnight literally had the Don on his knees, just as he once predicted.
"Fine," she sighed, her face calm and unfazed like a man hadn't just got down on his knees and begged for her. He got up and dusted the leaves off of his pants.
"You're letting this get too far but at the same time, you deny and refuse any chance we have. Why?" he confronted. She was taken aback immediately but respected his bluntness.
Yes, he had been very blunt today.
First, killing more than two hundred people, asking about the King, and then this.
He was on a bravery streak.
She looked in his eyes for a certain truth. The truth that he wanted her. But she couldn't find it, no matter how deep she looked. In honesty, it was there...but he hid it very well.
"Common sense. I'm your enemy and you are mine. And it's the King's order," she said not showing an ounce of emotion.
"The attraction is there. You just won't acknowledge it," he admitted. She balled her fists as she hears what she thought were lies.
"You are not attracted to me. You are attracted to my reputation. You know nothing about me to be "attracted" to me," she answered calmly.
"It's more than that," he retorted. She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips.
"No, it's not. You want me because it would look good to others," she deadpanned, not an emotion to be found.
She was just so...deadly calm.
He went to touch her waist again and tell her how he felt but no words came out. She got off of the trunk and started walking towards the driver's side after closing it.
Smoke filled the air and she knew the firefighters would come any second.
Just as she was about to open the door he turned her around forcefully and pinned her against the car harshly, forgetting about her wounds. His body somehow suppressed the pain as he pressed against her chest.
"You're wrong. If these things are true then why does the King "order" you otherwise?" he scowled, dangerously low. She turned away, unable to form a response. He inched closer to her, waiting for an answer.
"I can't answer that," she muttered. He scoffed and clenched his jaw. Frustration growing, she mustered a response.
"I am not an object for anyone to use and show off. If you want me then act like it," she rolled her eyes, her tone smoky and unwavering.
She pushed him off and got inside after hearing sirens. She started the G-wagon and looked back at him. With that she drove off to the private jet she took here without sparing another glance.
~
The Private Airport. By Luca's Jet.
They left as soon as Midnight gave the order, and they now waited by the Jet. Oscar stood alone inside, thinking of her. He couldn't get his mind off of her.
The sunkissed and glowing skin made her look heavenly and her charcoal hair bounced in natural waves every time she walked. Those full and bow-shaped lips gave him a sudden urge to touch them with his. Her curves in all the right places that looked were so tempting to roam his hands over them.
She was his Heroine...taking up every thought and making him feel things only she could make him feel.
He hadn't so much as looked at another woman since. And she had not touched another man since him.
But things weren't meant to be.
Even now...she couldn't think of a better man to give herself to.
So his thoughts ran wild of her and he didn't object to it. His thoughts were too strong that he swore he smelt her rose perfume. He swore he felt her hand hold his while he stared out the window. Her smooth hand in his where it always belonged.
"I don't know what I'm doing here, but I didn't want you to leave without saying goodbye," she breathed. Even after all these years, he still managed to give her butterflies without doing anything.
After hearing her gentle voice he took in that she was here.
He pulled her close to him and she gave in, resting her head on his chest.
"Tu m'as manqué," he mumbled in her neck as he held her impossibly closer. He savored the moment knowing it wasn't going to last long.
"I missed you too," she responded in his chest, his muscles pressing against her face.
"It's been too long," she whispered burying her face deeper in his shirt. He still felt like home to her.
"Let's not make it longer," he mumbled, hiding the pain in his voice. She shook her head and built up the courage to look into his emerald eyes.
"You'll have to do it for the rest of your life, Noe," she sighed. His face hardened and he cupped her face, making her look deep into his eyes.
She always used to call him by his middle name, and never used his first name unless she was angry or serious.
"I don't want to," he chided. She closed her eyes, trying to hold in the pain. He was the only one that could handle her stubbornness.
"You have to," she whispered as she raked over his face like it was the last time.
"Mon Amour-" he started before she cut him off. She always loved it when he spoke french to her. It just made her insides turn into mush.
"It's not safe. It will never be safe for us," she breathed. His body tensed and he had a sudden urge to show her just how he could keep her safe.
"I could keep you safe. They are all scared of me anyways," he spoke with his voice going an octave deeper.
"But who will keep you safe?" she retorted as she moved a piece of his curly brown hair out of his eyes. She genuinely wanted to know the answer to her rhetorical question.
"What's life without a little danger?" he smirked trying to ease her worry.
"This is serious. They'll target you because of my last name-" she frowned, but his anger overtook his senses.
"I don't care about the fucking last name. I'll replace it with mine soon enough," he shot. He leaned their foreheads together, the tears threatening to fall.
"I love you. Isn't that enough?" he sighed, his voice cracking with his eyes glossing.
"I love you too...but-" she whispered back.
"Then I don't see the problem," he interrupted. She picked her head up and looked at him once more.
"The problem is that I am tired of this life of constant crime and danger. 5 years ago I laid awake wondering if I was ever going to see you again because of those stupid missions. I don't want to lose you to a fucking bullet Oscar! I don't want to raise my children wondering if they will live to the age of 18 because of the world we live in!" she blurted.
"Then, I'll leave it behind-" he started.
"No. I won't make you choose between me or your passion," she interrupted.
"You are my passion," he admitted. The tears stung her eyes and finally streamed down her face.
"I want you to find happiness without me. Love again. Marry a pretty girl and have children. Grow old with her and be content with your life without me-" she rambled on finally being cut off with his lips.
They were just as soft as she remembered and moved with such experience and love. Her lips still tasted of her honey chapstick and still danced with grace like her tongue. A whole zoo bombarded her stomach. She missed the feel of his tongue and his lips against hers. His roaming hands that sent tingles to explode on her skin made him want to live in this moment forever.
The saltiness of her tears made the kiss impossibly more vehement and extraordinary.
They pulled apart for the unfortunate need for air.
"I will only love you. I will only marry you. I will only want you to have our children. I will only be happy with you," he sighed.
"Maybe someday I will adjust to this life, but that day is not today," she told him as tears continued to stream down her cheeks. She removed his protective hands from her waist and placed them at his side. She began to walk away.
"Give us one more chance. I'll wait for you," he whispered after her. She felt a pang go through her heart, and her vision gets blurry from the overflow of tears.
She stopped in her tracks but didn't turn around, afraid if she did she wouldn't be able to leave.
"Goodbye, Oscar," she breathed as she continued to walk away out of his line of sight.
He clenched his jaw, doing nothing as the tears ran down his cheeks.
But it was for the best.
If they were together then one of them would end up dead sooner or later.
She walked to her Mercedes silently and did not notice her brother walking to her. Her ears went deaf and her vision was barely decipherable. She was completely and utterly in pain.
"Thea-"Luca called out to her but stopped when he saw her bloodshot and puffy eyes. He thought she had been crying because of him, and a wave of guilt came over it.
"What's wrong?" he asked, concerned with his voice softening. She finally looked at him and felt like crying more.
"It's nothing. Bye, be safe," she responded as calmly as she could but her tear-stained cheeks betrayed her.
Her vision cleared and she opened the door and slammed it, turning on the ignition and driving away mindlessly. She was angry, sad, exhausted, and confused.
His browed furrowed in confusion as he walked into the jet, not saying a word to anyone around him.
Oscar was too heartbroken to spend seven and a half hours with the brooding Luca, so he waited until Midnight showed up to go with her. He texted Blade a vague message saying to not worry and leave without him.
Midnight knew what was going on.
It was her job to know everything and anything. And she had to learn the hard way that it's better to know too much than to know nothing at all.