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𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚢 ─ 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚊 𝚐𝚞𝚗
"What the fuck!" I was the first thing that came out of my mouth, "What the actual fuck!"
Christian clamps a hand over my mouth and peers over the window. I hit him against his chest, irritated.
"Be quiet!" He whispers, "They could still be listening for survivors."
"What the fuck." I say again slowly, my voice muffled by his hand. I look at him. He looked absolutely terrified. This man who never seemed to have emotions looked like he might shit his pants. Sadness flickered behind his eyes, and I wondered, what for?
"I have to tell you something, Marie."
"What! What? Just tell me!" I whisper urgently, my eyes wide. How the hell was this the time?
"I c-can't." He stutters, and I realize it was serious. I've never heard him stutter before...
"Christian? It's alright. Just tell me." I try to smile. I wanted to touch him, for reassurance, but I didn't want it to be uncomfortable or awkward. I still didn't know how he felt about me...
"Okay, okay," he runs a hand over his mouth, "Alright, just don't... leave, okay?" I give him a weird look. Where the hell would I go?
"Why would I leave you?" I ask instead. He sighs.
"Because," He looks away from me, mumbling something Italian, "My family's one of the five in the mafia, love." I scoff then begin to laugh.
"What?"
"There has always been one family that had a bit... more power... than all the others, and that's my family." He can't make eye contact with me, "My father's the boss." I furrow my eyebrows. This had to be joke. The mafia? What was this a cheesy Wattpad story?
I hit him hard on the chest again.
"What the fuck!" I whisper loudly, "What the bloody hell!" I shove him this time, and he falls off of me. I crawl over to the window, and look outside. For what? I wasn't sure. I didn't have time to process this right now. Someone just tried to kill us.
"Maria, please just don't leave-"
"I'm not going to fucking leave you, you ass." I spit at him, then squint my eyes. There was something glimmering in the moonlight out there in the bushes. There was probably more than one, but I swear that was a person.
"Are you upset?" He asks me from the floor. I don't look back at him, but I shrug.
"Not really." I admit, sighing, "I understand why you couldn't tell me... and I understand why you had to tell me now." I glance back at him, "Don't worry about it. I know you wouldn't hurt me, Christian."
"I'd never let anything happen to you." He says, but I roll my eyes.
"Do you have a gun?"
"I really think you're mad-" He pauses, "Wait. What?"
"A gun?" I move away from the window, "There's someone outside."
"What?" He goes to the window, and I point out the glimmer, "Oh yeah, nice job." I smirk.
"The gun?"
"There's one in the drawer." He replies, and I snap my head back at him.
"You slept with me... with a gun in the bedside table?" I start to crawl over to the bed.
"I'm in the mafia, love, what if someone tried to kill me in my sleep. I'd have no protection." He explains, coming up behind me. I roll my eyes, and reach up into the drawer. The cool handle of a gun gleamed in the corner. I pick it up. It wasn't too heavy, but it wasn't too light. I weigh it carefully.
"Have you used one before?" He asks me. I glance back at him as I start crawling toward the door.
"I learned how once I turned eighteen." I explain. His eyebrows shot up, and he mouthed wow.
"Okay, so I'm going to go downstairs and see if everybody's alright." I whisper to him, standing up once I was out of sight from the window. He follows.
"Maria, love, stop for a minute." He slips an arm around my waist, trapping me between him and the doorframe. I try not to make eye contact. If he looked into my eyes he'd know how scared I was in that moment. I was scared I'd die. We were so close.
"Please just stop-"
"Just calm down..." He leans forward and whispers in my ear, "Maria, someone just jumped through the window in the hall. I want you to around and shoot him." The dominance in his personality coming through.
I didn't protest, clicking the gun out of safety mode. I turn around and fire.
Two bullets. I shoot two bullets straight at his head. I knew that's where they ended because it's exactly where I aimed. I watch as the man in black fell to the floor, his blood splattered against the wall.
I drop the gun to my side, my hands shaking and breath unsteady.
I turn around to see Christian's reaction. He's looking at me oddly. A mix of confusion and a sort of awe crosses his face as he focuses on only me, and suddenly I forget everything that just happened and everything that has happened. I drop the gun, it clatters against the floor, and glance back at him. I notice his eyes, his sharp handsome features, and his hair that was probably getting a little too long by now. I smile as I realize he was the most attractive man I've ever seen and it was crazy I was even in the same room as him. He was so gorgeous, and I wanted him-
I didn't get to finish my thoughts before he curled an arm around my waist, pulled me quickly toward him, and bent down to meet his lips with mine.
I gasp before opening my mouth to his as he kissed me urgently and passionately as if he'd never do it again. I quickly responded to his touch by wrapping my arms around neck, pulling our bodies closer to each other. His hand traveled through my hair and stopped as he cupped my cheek. We broke apart only once to breathe before I pulled his down mouth to mine again.
For a second, a precious, urgent second, he was everything I ever needed.
It was amazing, but soon over as he pulled away from me, looking into my eyes. We both breathed heavily and in sync, his lips barely apart from mine. Every bone in my body told me to run away because this was scary. These were scary feelings, these were scary thoughts, that I had never felt before, but honestly I never wanted them to stop.
"Let's go." He murmurs against my lips. His hazel eyes flick up to my green ones and I begin to nod. I reach down for the gun, and he starts down the hall before I can even get a word in.
I was dazed, confused, and drunk on the taste of his lips as I stumbled down the hall after him.
