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So I did it.
I brushed my teeth, thinking about my night with him. When I pushed for my beliefs, he folded. He had the capability to listen, to have some kind of empathy if it was presented the right way.
It humanized him, made him less of a monster.
That made me feel like I had some control back, that if I pushed him hard enough, he would give me what I wanted. If something was really important to me, it was important to him. The fact that he admitted his father’s actions were wrong told me he wasn’t completely evil. He had a lot of darkness inside him, but at least there was a sliver of light.
I walked into the kitchen and saw him cooking eggs and bacon on the stove. “Let me get this straight. You go to the store and pick up all this stuff, but it doesn’t cross your mind to pick up a toothbrush?” I joined him at the counter, dressed in a long-sleeved shirt and jeans.
He flipped the bacon, dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt. “Maybe I like sharing a toothbrush with you.”
“But I don’t like sharing it with you.”
“If you hate it so much, why do you keep using it?” He turned to me, arrogance in his eyes. “You can get a new one for less than a euro, but you insist on using mine…”
“Hold on, it’s not yours.”
“You’re right,” he said. “It’s ours.” He turned off the stove once the bacon and eggs were done. He scooped them onto plates and pulled the bread out of the toaster. I didn’t have a dining table because the apartment was too small, so we sat on the floor and ate at the coffee table.
I stopped arguing with him because it wasn’t a good utilization of my time. I’d rather focus on eating one of the only home-cooked meals I’d had in this apartment. The eggs were well done, and the bacon was crispy. “This is pretty good.”
“Pretty good?” he challenged.
“Alright…” I took another bite. “It’s really good.”
“That’s better.” His plate was twice as full as mine, and he had four pieces of toast. I’d never seen him eat anything less than a feast. Like a large horse that needed five thousand calories a day, he scarfed everything down. He ate so much but didn’t have an ounce of fat.
“When do you work out? I never see you do anything.”
“Because I consider fucking a workout.” He drank his coffee, his blue eyes on me.
“And when I’m not around?”
“I have a gym. I do a lot of weights, some cardio. What do you do?”
I laughed and took a big bite of my bacon. “You know I don’t do anything.”
“Your body says otherwise.”
“I walk around Milan a lot, so that must be where I burn the calories.”
“You still have a toned look to you.”
“I fight off psychopaths pretty often…”
He gave a sinister smile before he popped another piece into his mouth. “You think I’m a psychopath?”
“I know you’re a psychopath. You kill people for a living, and you want to destroy my family, who are the nicest people in the world. Yes, I think that’s the definition of psychopath.”
“I’ve met a lot of psychopaths,” he said. “Trust me, I’m not one of them.”
“Well, we established last night that I don’t trust you.”
“But you assume I’ll honor my promises.”
He had me there.
“You trust my honesty,” he said. “So now who’s the psychopath?”
I turned my gaze down to my food and kept eating, feeling the tension rise between us. He was a wild animal that could be easily provoked, but I never learned my lesson and stopped initiating his temper. I was too proud and stubborn to be the quiet prisoner who kept their head down until the perfect opportunity presented itself. I was outspoken, and sometimes, a little stupid. “I told my father I’m dropping out of university.”
It was the first time Bones took a break from eating his meal. “And what did he say?”
“He said he would support whatever decision I made.”
Bones grabbed his mug. “I’m glad you listened to me.”
“I didn’t listen to you,” I argued. “I’ve just considered what you said.”
“Same thing. And believe it or not, I’m a very smart man.”
I did believe that. I knew it the second we met.
“What now?”
“I guess I’ll start painting full time and try to sell my work. My father said I could put up my artwork at the winery, so when customers come through, they’ll see them. Maybe even buy them.”
“They’ll definitely buy them. My advice as a business man, start high.”
“In what way?”
“Pricing. A high price shows your worth. Don’t start low and then climb as you earn critical acclaim. Show people you’re worth the cost. I’m one of the most expensive hitmen on the market—because I’m the best.”
