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Chapter Eight
Ava
I’ve jogged and had a romp with an assassin but that nervous energy is still there.The more time that passes, the more I realize I’ve dug myself into a deep, dark hole.
This is my body, my life and I get to do whatever I want with it but now it suddenly feels as if it doesn’t belong to me anymore. Someone else has laid a claim on me. And now, I sort of understand what pregnant mothers must feel like when they outsource their wombs.
Glancing at Harm, I feel a stirring in my lower belly. He’s sitting on my white, Plume Blanche couch with his legs wide apart, a frown on his face and he’s looking at papers spread over the coffee table. They’re lists of people I know and he’s typing information in on his laptop, probably doing background checks but I don’t look.
His eyes are determined and he mutters to himself every now and then. Sometimes he takes a break to look at me and then his face relaxes, going from that hard, emotionless mask to something more humane. I’m the one responsible for that change and every single nerve ending in my body responds as if I have found my calling. A pant crosses my lips as my eyes lower to his strong, veiny hands. What have I even gotten myself into?
Heart thrashing, I tense when Harm murmurs,
“Your movie studio seems suspicious to me.” He looks at me to see my reaction but I just hold down a whimper in response. “You broke one of your contracts. A movie calledOopsie, Doopsie, Daisy.”
“Yeah, I remember doing that,” I murmur, finding it increasingly difficult to breathe and Harm leans forward. “It was at the end of my career when I was fed up about everything.”
“Did any of the studio directors or the producers ever threaten you, stalk you...?”
He’s working so hard to get to the bottom of this. Guilt flares in me before I shake my head. My pulse thumps when I get up and start pacing. I’ve changed into a pair of shorts and a knitted sweater with a bow in the back and Harm follows my movements, his eyes still trusting but they won’t be for long.
What have I done?
I dig my nails into my palms, dig my teeth into my lower lip and I feel frazzled and so out of control that I don’t know what to do. I’m tempted to sneak a smoke but I have a feeling, Harm will lose it. I’m not supposed to play with my life around him. He cherishes it and this is wrong on so many levels.
A hitman isn’t supposed tofeeland yet I’d rather yank my hair out than take it away from him. He has described his missions to me (leaving out the gory details) and he has told me about the nights when he walks into his empty penthouse apartment and washes his hands clean even when they’re not dirty. Why would an assassin wash his hands if he doesn’t long for a conscience?
He must’ve been desperate to feel something, despite how much he tries to push it down. All this time, he needed an angel to come around, whisper the right words and fix him up. I drag a frustrated hand, guessing that I’m that angel. I catch my own reflection in one of my mirrors and I don’t think I look like I have a halo over my head, but horns coming out of my skull.
Can’t he see on my face that something’s up? Maybe he’s suppressing it...
“Get over here, you seem tense,” Harm murmurs, pulling me into his lap. He pushes my hair to the side, then starts kissing my neck. I grab on to his knees, holding on while an electric stream travels from between my legs and up to my throat. I’mthisclose to start sobbing. I need to sort out this mess before things go too far but I have a fear they already have.
He’s not just holding me, he is grasping me as if I’m the last drop of water on earth. His lips slide along my nape, his fingers toying with my bow and he appreciates it when I’m girly and dainty, maybe because it’s such a hard contrast to his own world. My head swims and I can barely look at him. I feel dishonest but I made him promise not to develop any feelings for me.
Have I though, have I developed feelings...?
My skin responds by going sensitive on me, my nape prickling when he stops kissing me and he drags a hand up my leg. His hands are about the same width as my thigh and it gives him the appearance of being indestructible. I wriggle in his lap, feeling my heart slipping down a slippery slope and he cages his arms around me.
The locket of my necklace grazes against his arm and he twirls it between his fingers. “Evil eye,” he mutters and the amusement is clear in his voice. “You’re superstitious?”
I nod, my breaths turning choppy and I wonder if he can feel how warm I’m getting. “Aren’t you?”
“I prefer keeping my boots on the ground. And my hands on these magnificent tits.” His hands slip under my sweater, cupping me and I let out a groan. “These are so damn big, I didn’t even think they were real at first.”
His compliment makes me flush but then my eyes wander off to the coffee table. There’s an AK-47, a small dagger, and a syringe waiting to be filled up with a poisonous concoction. This is some serious stuff.
“Fuck, I can’t wait to put a bullet between the eyes of whoever is trying to hurt you,” he grunts, glancing at the list, “wouldn’t be surprised if it’s one of the producers...”
I sharply inhale, turning to him and clasping his jagged face in my hands. “Don’t go after anyone, unless I give you green light.”
He frowns, shaking his head. “Request firmly declined. I know my job better than you, I know when to execute.”
Panic flares in me. “You’re going to need my approval first...”
His jaw clicks when his teeth clasp and he shakes his head, hard-ass determination steaming out of his pours. “Sorry, angel but this is out of your lane.” His eyes darken with killer instinct. “Once I find the one who is behind this, I’ll be relentless. The bastard will die screaming your name.”
Chapter Nine
