Hii! I must start with an apology for the two day delay, but I got behind with my uni work and I get easily distracted too, so this past week it has been a little harder for me to write, and I didn't want to post something that I wasn't satisfied with.

I'll quickly say what I want to say and let you enjoy

Thank you all for the feedback on my last chapter. I love your reviews.

Unfortunately, no, Rose doesn't know Russian. She will never know what he said to her, but don't you worry. She'll hear those words in English from him one day

If the kiss coming is not deep enoughh, don't you worry either. There are more to come. And soon. Maybe just that night, who knows?

By gooey, I think I wanted to say mushy at that time, but didn't find that word when I needed it. I searched for the meaning of gooey though at that time and saw that it can mean too "mawkishly sentimental" and I was like, hell, I'll use this instead

As always, lots of love!

Plus, I will do my best to update on Sunday anyway. I can't promise anything as this period is quite hectic with the holidays and all, but I will try to keep to my schedule.

Love makes us do stupid things sometimes

RPOV

Uh-oh. He hates me. Look at the way he watches me. I have never seen him frown like this. I am in big trouble.

Instinctively, I take a step back, a little one, until I feel the door with my heel. Okay, there's nowhere to run or hide. I find myself having to face him and I am so not ready for this.

I shouldn't have tried to be playful or funny now. I shouldn't even have shown my face here. He must be really mad with me. And who would blame him? I did him so many troubles last night. And not only verbally.

But the damage is already done. The only question is, how do I fix it? How do I make things right now? I screwed up big time. He'll never forgive me.

Say something! But what? I should apologize, right? Should I even try? Maybe he doesn't even want to listen to my lame apologies.

Gosh, I feel like I am in third grade again and forgot my lines in front of the whole school during a play. But all those people seemed to be so much easier to handle than him, than his stare. And too bad that now there's no Mason around to help. I am all alone, having to face the Russian and his confusing stare. Why the hell is he looking at me like that? I did nothing but to say good morning after all.

I don't know what to do either, so I sit in front of the door of the bedroom, shifting my weight from one leg to another and scratching my arm, looking back at him, praying that he won't get up and come strangle me. Should I ask him if I am allowed to get closer?

But to my luck, things don't go as bad as I thought they would. Not at all.

After he rips his eyes off me and clears his throat, he indicates towards the table in front of him.

"Good morning, Rose. Are you hungry?" so, no killing spree for the Russian? I am safe and I get to eat too? "I got some room service."

Being given a pass, I decide to finally move my ass and head towards the table and make myself busy with picking up some pancakes and a cup of coffee, thank God it's still warm, getting the big chance to avoid his eyes. And having my mouth full will give me enough time to think of what I should say later.

"I couldn't manage to get you some green tea. They only had coffee."

He knows that? Of course he does. He has been following you for so long now. But how much does this guy know about me anyway? I don't think I want to know the answer to this anyway. Only I and he know all the weird things I said and done this past month.

"It's okay. You didn't have to bother. Coffee works just fine. Thanks."

It is perfect, in fact. Because ever since I stared into his eyes yesterday I have been wishing for a coffee. I didn't realize at first why, but now, as I am putting my milk in it, I do. His eyes are the color of a cup of coffee. The perfect cup of coffee, right after you pour the milk in and it swirls around turning that blackness into the softest shade of brown. And looking in his eyes I get that same warm feeling that I have holding now this cup of coffee. Suddenly, I want to change my morning habits. Screw the green tea. I want him to be part of-

"Did you want something else to eat?"

"Huh?" I finally snap my eyes up and look at him, realizing I was stupidly standing there and staring at that cup of coffee as I was far gone lost into the memory of his eyes.

"No, nothing else. This is perfect comr- It's good."

I get my plate and want to find a place to take a seat.

But the bad thing now is that the only place I can sit on is the sofa. Because picking a spot on the floor would be too obvious that I don't have enough courage to be near him.

So this means that I have to sit next to him. And I am still half naked. Images from last night of me running my hand all over his chest pop into my head. Oh, God. And some other images involving this sofa-

"You usually eat sitting up?" he notices my reticence.

Well, isn't someone chatty this morning? Don't get me wrong, I am glad he is talking to me and he's not scolding me or something similar, but I thought that he would never want to speak to me again after last night.

Without any other choice, I sit on the sofa, trying not to let any of my parts visible, pulling the T-shirt down as much as I can and stretching its material. I hope he won't mind. But it's good that he is not looking at me anymore. Thank God for that book of his. It seems to be more interesting than my inner torment.

I eat painfully slow, thinking about what I should start with. Think, brain, think!

When someone knocks at the door, I almost choke. But he doesn't even flinch. So, we're not in danger?

He makes me a sign not to worry about it, gets up and goes to the door. And when he comes back, he is carrying a big glass with what seems to be a milkshake? Since when does he drink such a thing? He doesn't seem to be the guy to do that. I even want to laugh at it and maybe even make a comment, until he extends it to me.

"What is this?"

"For your hangover."

"Is it?"

"Yes. It's a banana milkshake, with some honey. I asked them to do it."

"For me?"

He really did this. For me. He thought of making my life easier, after I made his so hard. I thought he would let me suffer my consequences, even if I don't feel as bad as I thought I would. But I know I deserve it. But he didn't think that.

"Yes. I am not the one who has been drinking, right? And this is one of the best cures for a hangover I know."

"How come?"

"The banana calms the stomach, the honey builds up the depleted blood sugar levels, and the milk soothes and re-hydrates your body. Plus, you should start drinking some water too."

"Wow. You seem to have thought about it all, comrade. Thanks."

Maybe he indeed has all that experience when it comes to drinking too much. I wonder why. What makes him overdrink? What has been bothering him so much?

"Go ahead. Drink up."

And like the behaved kid I must be now, I do what I am said and drink it. And I must admit it is really good, even though I usually prefer the chocolate one.

As I put the glass on the table, with the corner of my eye, I catch him staring at me. And when I turn to look back at him, I find him smiling. Okay, I am confused now. He is smiling too?

"What?"

"You have something." he traces a line above his upper lip.

"Oh…" shit. I have a milkshake moustache.

I look down and lick my lips embarrassed. Of course he was smiling at me. I must have been looking so silly.

But after that, he's still smiling, I am seeing him with the corner of my eye.

"Love, you still…" really? I still have some left?

"Where?"

He gets a little closer to me and slowly moves his hand up. I thought he wanted to show me where it was, but that was not the case.

I freeze as I feel his fingers creep on my cheek and his thumb walking on my upper lip, over the corner of my mouth. And he doesn't pull away. Oh, shit. Why isn't he?

I continue to look at him, but he is not really looking me in the eyes, he's more focused on looking at my lips. His stare burns my skin and I feel the need to lick them, then I remain with them parted. It's happening again, isn't it? We're again on this goddamn sofa and I am wishing again for him to kiss me.

But he doesn't. He just takes in a deep breath and pulls his hand away, leaving me wanting of his touch. See? He could have kissed you, but he pulled away. So, he doesn't want anything from you, either you are sober or not. So stop wishing he would!

After a few moments of awkward silence, I gather enough courage to speak. It's about time to make things right.

"Um… look. I must say something. I am sorry about last night. I don't usually do things like these." What? You don't usually touch all over strangers? No kidding, Rose. No one could have guessed. "I am not like that. I don't even drink on a usual. I don't know what came over me."

"I understand, Rose. There was a lot for you to take in for the past days. Maybe you shouldn't have gotten drunk, but I get it. It must be hard for you to deal with all of this."

How come he is so understanding? I am not in for a lecture about my irresponsibility? He's not going to lash at me either?

"Yeah, it kind of is. But I shouldn't have acted that reckless. I mean, I know it was reckless. I may have been a liability if something would have happened, and besides that, I don't think I was a great company last night." I definitely know I wasn't.

I begin to nervously play with my hair and put it in a bun, trying to distract his attention from my eyes. His gaze is so intense on me now that I want to hide somewhere.

"It's not in my nature to act like that. I mean, all the things I said and done… I hope that you can understand that-"

"Hey, you weren't that bad," he says seeming amused.

Yeah? What part did you enjoy the most? The one I was touching you all over? Because I know I did, big time.

"No, but really. Sorry about that. It was some kind of… stupid from me to act that way. And thank you for um… putting up with me."

"I am not holding anything against you, Rose."

"Nothing?"

I can't keep my mouth shut not even when it's to my advantage. But I really want to know. He can't be so understanding. Where's the catch?

"What do you remember from last night?" oh, the question I dreaded.

"All of it, of course."

His eyebrow lifts, and I even see a smile at the corner of his lips.

"All of it?"

"Yes, of course."

How could I ever forget a second of it? How could I forget how nice he was to me? How could I forget the idiot I was?

"Details, please."

"I remember…" Okay. Here we go. Let's make a fool of myself. "Coming here where you were doing stuff, I don't know… and obviously I was drunk enough to start acting stupid and we started arguing about me eating. And…"

Oh, gosh, I can't say this out loud. I can't admit how broken I am and what it has driven me to do, mixed with all that alcohol. I can't, even though he already knows.

"And… That's when you had to take me to get a cold shower to wake me up from my drunkenness, right?"

I decide to cut out the most embarrassing part of last night. Maybe if I pretend it doesn't exist, it will go away.

I know I am lying and it's wrong, but I can't say the truth out loud. It would make it all so real. And the last thing I need is to state out loud for him to hear the fact that I feel attracted to him.

DPOV

She came here and I took her to the shower? So, she doesn't remember anything that happened in between? Nothing at all?

"That's all?"

"Well, no, of course. After that shower, I continued to be a little, well, not a little, just annoying enough and I asked you all that stupid stuff and then that thing with um…" She looks down, biting her lip and kneading the hem of her T-shirt on her still naked thighs. "With my tummy happened. And then I fell asleep," she rushes to add.

"Is that all?" I just need to hear it one more time. I need a thousand confirmations if possible. She doesn't remember anything else?

"Is there anything more?"

There's more. So much more I wish she would remember. I don't know if I should be glad or disappointed that she doesn't remember what I told her, but I feel most like the first. She wouldn't even have remembered kissing me if that or anything else would have happened. So, I should indeed be glad I said no. And I am. But I had other thoughts about how this morning would unfold.

But still, she remembers plenty of the things we did. And she is already distressed enough by not remembering everything she did. What good will it bring me to tell her the rest of it? What if she thinks I am fucking with her when I'll tell her we almost kissed and I admitted to her how much I wish she would be mine? She'll only get upset with me. She'll never believe me.

RPOV

Please, please, please don't say I wanted to kiss you. Please don't say the other things I did to you or whatever I said. I think I'll faint if he mentions any of them.

He starts smiling. Oh, shit, he is going to rub it in my face, right? He is going to make me pay for it. I already want to find a place to go and die into.

"No, love. Nothing else. That's all that happened."

No, that is definitely not. Why isn't he telling me? Is he saving it for later? Is he taking advantage of the fact that I forgot he told me he wants me? I knew it it wasn't for real. Duh, of course it wasn't. He was just lying to you so you wouldn't feel worse.

But anyway, now that I started lying, I must go on with it.

"Didn't I say nor do anything else stupid? Please tell me so that I could apologize for it."

He smiles a little wider. "You did nothing wrong, love. It's okay."

"I'm sorry. Really, I am. I-" his hand over mine makes me gasp lightly.

"It's no problem Rose."

"Oh, and this… you know you shouldn't have…" I say revealing the five dollar bill I was holding so tight in my hand for the past ten minutes and extend it to him. "I found it on the nightstand next to the llama. When did you find that? I thought I lost it." Not that I don't already know, but I must play the fool till the end, right?

He laughs lightly, probably remembering my insistences and that silly conversation we had about Miss Pickle, and God isn't this the nicest sound ever? It doesn't even compare to what I have heard last night because now I am completely aware of it and can enjoy it to its fullest.

Hell, when did we even get to this level of casualty? Since when can we sit next to each other for more than five minutes without arguing, and he even laughs?

Not that I would complain. I like it better when he is not acting like nothing gets to him. Let the man laugh if he wants. I'll enjoy it.

"I found it in my bag. The llama, I mean. I thought you would like to have it back."

"I do. A lot. Thanks."

"Don't mention it. And that other thing, it's about the cookie jar policy. I broke it, so I'm paying."

"You know this isn't necessary. I was just fooling around when I mentioned it. I didn't really me-"

"No," he takes my palm and encloses the bill in it. "You need to keep them. A debt is a debt. And I always pay my debts."

So, with that being said, I don't push things and set it aside. The less I talk about what happened last night, the fewer chances I have to get caught with my lie.

I get back to my pancakes, eating them slowly, trying to find a way to approach this new subject in my head. But he speaks first, to my surprise, showing his concern.

"Do you feel sick?"

"Huh?"

"You're not eating." Oh, yeah. I feel too lousy to do this. "Do you still feel sick to your stomach?" why are you asking? Do you feel like rubbing my tummy some more? "Or from that cold shower?" oh, I get it now. Someone feels a little guilty.

He even goes as far as taking the little hairs that escaped from my bun out of my face, and gets his palm on my forehead, checking on me and surprising me once more with his concern. He then moves his palm down on my cheek, testing my skin there too, but too bad for him is that my flesh is already red and burning from his previous touch.

"Are you getting sick?"

"No. Neither. I just… my stomach is full anyway from that milkshake and I… I am fine. Nothing to worry about." I put my plate aside and gather all my courage for what I am going to say next. "But… look. Can I ask for something?"

"Is there anything you need?"

"Well, I thought that since it's pretty obvious that I am going to be with you for a while, I could at least get some clothes? Like, women's clothes? I can't keep on wearing yours forever, right? They are yours and you might need them and I might attract the attention my way by wearing them. Oh and-"

I stop and push my glasses up on my nose, avoiding eye contact with him once more. I can't ask for this, no matter how much courage I gathered. It's weird.

"And what?"

"Um, you know…" I gesture my hand around, trying to make this thing sound as normal as it can.

"I know what? Come on. Ask for it." It's easier said than done, comrade.

"Um, some, um… underwear would be nice?"

Hearing my request, well, he seems as embarrassed as I am, but his actions don't say the same. I feel his eyes linger on my too naked thighs for a second too long, before he realizes I am watching him do it and he needs to look away.

"Yeah, right." he scratches the back of his neck as his jaw clenches and unclenches steadily.

Why? Am I asking for too much?

"I guess that I could go now and buy you something to dress with."

Wait. He could go? Not we? So, this means that he is not taking me with him? He's going to leave me here alone?

Hooray! An escape plan already begins to form in my head and I start looking for all the ways out of here.

Let's be honest. This is the perfect occasion I was waiting to get away. I can't stay with him, no matter how much protection he offers to provide to me. In the end, he is still going to get rid of me one way or another. And I don't want my life to end that soon. I'll find another way to deal with this situation, but away from him.

"Yeah, sure. That would be perfect," I respond a little too eager and try to temper myself before he realizes what I am thinking about.

"But first…" he points to my half eaten pancakes. "Are you sure you're done with that?"

"Yes." I am done with everything he needs me to be done with. Whatever to make him leave me alone faster.

"Good. Come with me," he says as he's making his way towards the bedroom.

I don't let him waiting for me to follow. I have no idea what he wants from me, but I don't question anything. I won't piss him off now when I am so close to getting to be free again.

He goes to that bag of his and starts searching inside.

He gets out a pair of pants and hands them to me. Nice thought, comrade. I am impressed twice by him in less than ten minutes. All he wanted was to get me covered. I really appreciate the gesture. He doesn't know it yet, but like this, I won't freeze that bad when I'll get out of here.

But next, I see that my comfort wasn't his only preoccupation as he was searching through his bag. Quite the opposite. When I see what he gets out next, I almost want to punch myself. I knew it was too easy to be true!

"You have got to be kidding me. Are you serious about that? Are you really going to do this?"

Smiling, he gestures me to come closer to him. I don't.

How stupid could I be to think he'll let me free to wander? How did I even expect for him not to take into consideration all the options? He's him after all.

"I wasn't born yesterday Rose. What if, by some chance, you decide to get out the door while I am away?"

But even though that was exactly what I was thinking of, I try to seem convincing as I plead for my case.

"I am not going to do it."

"Sure, love. And I am the king of England. Now turn around," he says as he is ripping the package and coming closer to me.

"Come on. I promise not to try anything."

"Rose," he says, not giving up on his decision, knowing I am trying to bullshit my way around. "Do you want those clothes or not?"

Thinking of how naked I got last night around him, it makes me decide fast.

"Yeah, I would really like them. But-"

"Then turn around."

Not having a way out, I comply and turn around. What other choice do I have? I will end up tied either I like it or not.

He takes a hold of my palms, his cupping mine, and from there, he easily moves my whole hand, bringing them to my back. Moving slow and gentle, he puts that goddamned pair of flex cuffs around my wrists and pulls them together until I feel the plastic pressing lightly on my skin.

"Is this too tight?" he asks after he checked on them too, bringing his finger in between my skin and the plastic.

I wiggle my hands a little and it's okay. But I need to still try my chances.

"If I say yes, would you untie me?"

He laughs again, a little cheerful this time, but so close to my ear now that I start realizing how close we are to each other. One little step backward and I would be completely glued to him.

"It's not going to happen, love. Now tell me. Should I loosen them? Is it too tight?"

"Yes. Loosen them. Just enough for me to get them off."

"Sure, I'll do just that," he says and does the opposite, tightening them a little more. "What about now? Any discomfort?"

It's a miracle he still gives a damn about that.

"No," I respond sulky. They are tight enough for not letting my palms to pass through. "But really, where would I go? As you said, I have no chance out there on my own." I need to try my chances one more time.

"And even though. It's better to be safe than sorry, right?"

"Yeah, right. Take all the precautions you want, comrade."

"I am. Now, sit."

He shows me the end of the bed, which has a perfect place you can pass another flex cuff and link it to mine. A thing he does, pinning me to this bed. Perfect! How am I getting away now?

I know. Try chewing your arms off because that plastic thing is unbreakable!

After he ruins all my chances of freedom, he takes a step back and watches me.

"What? You're proud of your piece of art?" he really got me annoyed and I am letting him know it.

"Come on, love. Don't get mad." he's saying it with a specific tone, especially to make me even madder.

"First, stop calling me like that, and second, why wouldn't I? I told you I won't go. Is it so hard to trust me?"

He smiles. "Well, from what I have seen, this wouldn't be your first attempt at getting away. So, I am just taking my precautions."

"I think I liked you more when I was drunk."

His expression shifts for a second, then goes back to that little smug smile.

"I bet you did, love. I bet you did."

He bends, taking one last look at my wrists, probably thinking I am some kind of Houdini and I already got free. And I so wish I was. But I am not. I wish too that I have shown him the finger as he was taking pride in his work, but my momma taught me better than that, even though he deserves it.

"Stay safe, okay?"

"Aw, it almost sounds like you care about me, comrade," I respond obnoxiously, flashing a toothy grin at him.

He shakes his head and almost rolls his eyes.

"I spent a considerable amount of time and effort keeping you in one piece and with the history you have at injuring yourself, I find myself obliged to say that. Plus, if you die now, my investment will be gone."

"Now that sounds more like the you I know. Always practical."

"Right. And talking about being practical…"

He goes and gets out of his bag some duct tape. The duct tape. The one he has tied me first with.

Who would have thought that his bag is, in fact, full of surprises? It's like he is some Russian Santa that gets all kinds of things out of his bottomless sack, all made to make my life harder. Who knows what else he is hiding in there? I thought he had just clothes in it, but maybe I should have thought to search through it.

"Really comrade? That too?"

"You have some pretty good lungs from what I remember."

"But… come on. What if the maid comes in here and sees me like this?" this is my last excuse. My only chance for him not to leave me here like this.

"She won't. I will talk to the receptionist not to send one.

"Well, don't you think of everything?"

"In fact, I didn't think about that until you mentioned it. So, I guess, thanks for mentioning it."

"Yeah, sure, my pleasure."

I swear that it would be so much easier for me if I wouldn't be who I am. I am only making my life hard. Me and my big mouth.

"I don't like this. Not at all."

"Me either."

"Do you really expect me to believe it? That's bullshit."

He enjoys seeing me tied up like this. Considering how much trouble I have caused him, I would be happy too to see myself tied.

Next, his lips curl a little, but in some kind of displease now.

"Think whatever you want to think, Rose."

He comes my way to place the sticky material over my mouth. Oh, you bastard. I won't give up that easily if this is what you think.

I dodge him a couple of times and at this, he gets a little annoyed.

"Rose, stop it," he says just like I would be a little kid acting out and him my parent, which only annoys me further.

When he tries to put it on me one more time, I decide to bite him. Maybe this will teach him a lesson not to mess with me.

I managed to do a little damage to at least two fingers of his before he pulled his hand away surprised.

It even takes him a second to start speaking again, after he looks at his hand and back at my mouth. But he does, after I see him getting angrier too, his jaw tightening.

"I swear to God, Rose, stop it, or you-"

"Or what?! Why would I stop? I am not the one who wants her mouth covered!"

"Because if you don't, I am not going to buy you anything and I am taking my clothes back too."

At his threat, I stop protesting.

"You wouldn't dare. You won't let me naked." He can't!

"Do you really want to try me, love?" his tone gets threatening and I see he is already enjoying that idea in his head.

Well, didn't I already see what he is capable of? He never said no to a challenge, right? I have to give in. I am not going to risk it.

"You're a bastard, do you know that?"

"I do, love. You keep on mentioning it so I don't have how to forget it."

He tilts my head from under my chin and he looks into my eyes all the time he is putting that sticky material on my face, and I continue to watch him as defiantly as I can. I swear I would have bitten him again if he wouldn't have already threatened me with that naked thing, that angry I am with him now.

Lastly, he passes his thumb across my now sticky, duct tape covered lips, probably to make sure they're stuck well enough.

"Be nice, okay? I will come back fast."

I would love to give him a snappy response, but I don't bother to give him this satisfaction of seeing me trying to speak with that thing on my mouth.

And he lets me there, like that.

But before getting out the door, he stops and teases me, this little bastard! He couldn't help it, just for once.

"See the good part here, love. You are at least sitting on the bed. Considering what you have just done, I could have tied you to the radiator right there," he says pointing to it but I am too busy eyeing him hatefully.

And I can't help it anymore and I start mumbling incomprehensible things to him just as he was closing the door behind him.

And he has the audacity to come back!

"What did you say?"

This little fucker!

I know I shouldn't give him this satisfaction, but I only start ranting more. I would so like to give him a piece of my head now.

My reaction only makes him smile, so proud of himself.

"Be safe, love," he says lastly and finally goes.

What should I do now? Wait until he comes back like a nice girl that I am supposed to be?

No. Of course not. To hell if I am going to let a little plastic thing keep me in here. It's my chance to escape and I am going to take it. I will chew my hand off if I have to, I swear.

Even if I turn my head to its fullest, I can't see anything. So I resume to wiggling my hands, trying to loosen the fastening around my wrists. I try different angles and combine pulling my hands apart with moving them up and down and even some circles, but nothing works.

To my further frustration, it even gets a little tighter, and the discomfort makes itself present big time. Pulling a little more and I might stop my blood flow. But do I stop? Of course not.

But after some more minutes of struggling uselessly, I need to stop. This thing is inescapable without having something to cut it with.

And there is nothing else around that I could get to help me break free, maybe except for the nice vase on the nightstand, but that is way too far for me to get to it and break it in order to grab a shard from it.

I tried to reach his bag with my feet and pull it towards me, hoping that I would find something useful in there, but it is too far from me as well and me turning around to extend my foot is not doing any good to my hands as the plastic is already digging deep into my skin and when I pull myself closer to the edge of the bed, it only gets worse.

God, why am I not a little taller? Just a few centimeters, I am not asking for much. I would love to be the elastic woman in this very second. I would have been out of this situation in no time.

All I got in my futile attempt to get rid of the cuffs is a bleeding left wrist, produced by all the friction between my skin and the sharp plastic edges of the material. I can feel some little droplets of blood making their way down my palm and the cut is stinging me each time I make a little move and the plastic brushes some more on my skin.

Well, this was fun as it lasted, wasn't it? All I did was manage to get myself hurt again, just as he predicted. I bet he will be happy to know he was right again.

And now I sit here on the bed, being powerless once more, trying not to allow myself to cry and looking out the window at the greyish sky, thinking that I would like to be outside if it starts to snow soon. The first snow hasn't already fallen and I'm afraid I am going to miss it. But am I really ready for this? Ugh, I don't know. All I know is that I want to be out of here.

Usually, I wouldn't have gotten out of the house too often, I would do that only if I really had to, but I haven't realized how much I miss being outside until someone took that away from me. I miss my evening runs and my walks back home from the kindergarten and the walks to the grocery stores and going out with Ash in the park. I miss my little, insignificant life.

It feels like I am suffocating in here and the walls seem to tighten around me as this anxiety gets bigger and bigger in me with each passing second. I hate the situation I am into, but what bothers me most is that there is nothing I can do about it and I have to sit here on my ass, literally, doing nothing but wait for him to come set me free.

Fifteen long and painful minutes later, he comes back, two paper bags in hand.

"How are you, love?" Oh, you will soon find out how I feel. I will be telling him very expressively how I feel.

With still that stupid grin plastered to his face, he comes straight to me, lays the shopping bags on the bed next to me and gets out a pocket knife. He crouches and gets out the blade.

Surprise!

When he sees my wrists, his expression changes. I have never seen this expression on his face. I don't even know how to describe it.

"Rose, what the fuck?" good thing that his tone is there to announce me he's angry. "What have you done to yourself?"

He cuts the cuffs that were holding me tied to the bed and turns me a little, to get more access to the other cuffs, the ones that hurt at touch.

"You are bleeding, for Christ's sake. What is wrong with you?" he says, his voice harsh. How dare he be the angry one?

He cuts the plastic and after I get my hands back I free my mouth too, the duct tape almost getting a layer of skin from my lips with it, that fast and harsh I ripped it off.

"You are the one who tied me, okay? What did you expect? It's not like I would sit here patiently like some dog and wait for you to come back! Can't you get it already? I had a chance to get out, to get away from you! I wasn't going to miss it. How foolish do you think I am? I don't want to be here. I have no wish to be around you! And if getting out of here involved getting hurt in the process, then I don't care! I would do it all over again!"

He exhales hard and clenches his jaw, being obviously done with the way I act. Well, I am done with everything that's going on myself.

I take a look at my wrist, just so that I won't have to see his annoyed face. It looks quite bad. Along with the cut and the dried blood on it, there is a pretty big red rash and the skin there is ripped off. God, until now I didn't realize how much damage I inflicted on myself. And I can already feel that this will be so itchy as it will heal.

He doesn't bother with any words, he just gets up and heads straight to the bathroom. And not even a minute later, he comes back in front of me, carrying the first aid kit. He crouches again, only getting closer to me, and takes out a little bottle and some gauze, that he rips and wets.

I don't protest when he gets my left hand in his, and for the first time ever since he is touching me, I get to thoroughly feel and analyze from up close all the calluses and scars he has on his palms as his skin brushes on mine.

So, this means that he fought a lot, right? From the way I have seen him move, I shouldn't have any doubts about this. But still, all these little imperfections only add to the realness of him. His hands are not perfect and this makes him one percent more human in my eyes, even though I am still mad at him. And oh, I would really like to explore him further.

It feels nice when the coldish liquid makes contact with my heated, swollen skin. It stings a little at first and as I hiss I squeeze his hand with my other, trying to make him stop. He responds, rounding his fingers on my upper wrist, squeezing lightly, into what I suppose is a reassuring gesture, and even nods at me.

When the stinging fades away, I get my hand off and let him clean the cut, moving slower and gentler this time. I like it when he's like this. Why can't he always be like this?

Because he has a goddamn mouth, that's why. And he can't keep it shut.

"God, Rose. How could you even think of this?" He shakes his head, obviously disapproving of what I did and I even feel the disappointment in his voice. "What did you get from this? You only got hurt again, love." so he really cares about me?

But all his caring goes away as he speaks next, his voice getting harsher.

"This was so stupid from you."

Hearing this, something snaps in me.

"What-"

I jerk my hand back, catching him by surprise, and he should be so glad I didn't decide to smack him too.

"You know what? I'll do this myself! I'll endure the consequences of my stupidity without your goddamn help! Give that to me."

I reach for the piece of gauze he is holding, but he takes it out of my way.

"No. I'll do it. Now stay put."

He takes my hand into his grip again. Who the hell does he think he is?

"Don't you touch me ever again!"

I get my hand behind my back and lean back on the bed too, trying to put as much distance as I possibly can between us.

"Well, love, I don't care if you don't want my help, I'll do it anyway. Who knows what else you might be doing next?"

Hearing him insinuate this, I react and push him.

"Get away from me!"

But he isn't backing down. He gets a hold of my upper arms, brings me back to a sitting position and lastly, he shakes me.

"Stop acting like a child, goddamnit! You're twenty three but gosh, you act so foolishly! You've been doing it now and so you did earlier and- Just stay put for a damned second and don't be so fucking stubborn, will you?! Now give me your hand and let me deal with that!"

Hearing him talk to me just like someone I hate now, I decide that I had enough of everything. Of him bossing me around too.

I push him off me once again and get up to my feet. And after a pretty long time since I have last done it, I yell at someone. At him.

"Oh my God! You people need to stop treating me like this! Just because I don't always stand up for myself this doesn't mean that I am just a piece of meat that everybody can do and say anything to! I am not a damned object! I am not a cloth puppet you can handle at your will! You can't push me around like this! I won't do anything that you're telling me to! Not anymore! It's always the same! You're all the same!"

He gets up too, slowly, his eyes never leaving me, that bewildered look in his eyes not disappearing either. I am sure he didn't expect me to react like this. Hell, I didn't either, but I had enough of people's shit and I just need to get it all out of my system.

"Him and you and-and everybody! It's always the same! And it's my fault for letting people treating me like this, don't you think I am aware of it? I know it very well! But God, I have feelings too, okay? Can't people take that into consideration only for a second? Don't just assume that things don't have any effect on me! Because even if I don't say anything to anyone, they still do! And the things that you do..."

And well, this is the moment I burst into tears. Even though I hate it when people see me crying, I just can't keep the tears in me anymore. And around him it happened so many times he must be thinking crying is one of my hobbies.

"Rose…"

"And I am so stupid! Don't you think I am aware of it too? For everything that happened! God, but... I just take so much shit from everybody and I... I am done trying to be the nice one all the time! It hasn't brought me anything good until now. I am done with keeping to myself! I don't care about everyone thinks anymore! I'm so done! With everybody! With you too!"

I begin to babble some more about how stupid I am for putting up with someone's actions in particular, for putting up with everything he has made me go through and rant about being good for nothing and powerless, and start to gesture around like a crazy lady, continuing to speak through sobs and whines.

I stop talking and moving in the very second that his hands get on my face and he cups my cheeks, dragging my whole body closer to him.

"Hey. Roza. Hey, look at me."

His whispery voice pierces through the cloud of anger that is covering my brain and I steady my breath a little, trying to make the sobs escaping my mouth to come to an end, and I lift my gaze. All I can see is a blurry version of him as the tears haven't stopped falling.

But he takes care of that too, lifting my glasses up on my head and wiping them with his thumbs.

"I am sorry. I really am."

His expression looks really apologetically at this moment and I see that the tough façade he is always wearing is not there and this thing only makes me want him to take me into his embrace, to let me again find comfort in his arms.

"You're right. I shouldn't have done that. Or said that."

Continuing to sniff my nose, I wipe my eyes with the back of my palms, nodding, letting him know that it's okay. I am anyway used to people acting like this with me, so he is not special. He is not the first one, but unfortunately, he'll be the last one.

He moves his hands down on my shoulders and sits me down on the bed, continuing to soothe them.

"Is it alright if I… Can I?"

He points his finger towards my wrist and I nod, so he gets back to dealing with my cut, lightly patting a new piece of gauze over my wrist, getting rid of the rest of the dried blood on it.

With my free hand, I wipe away the remnants of my tears from my face and the next thing I want to do with it is to slap myself for reacting like that earlier. I shouldn't have let myself be this vulnerable in front of him. Not now, not ever again.

Now he just thinks I am this messed up person, not that I didn't give him enough reasons already, but I swear that I don't want him to pity me in any way. I wish I could have some control over only a single thing about my life now, but there's nothing. I don't even have control over my emotions anymore. I need to do something about this. I won't let anything from what he does get to me ever again.

As he is still busy with my cut, applying cream and bandaging it, he speaks.

"Did he do something to you?"

"Huh? Who?"

"Xavier."

Oh, right. I might have babbled something about this earlier.

Looking at him, his eyes transmit me that it is okay for me to let out all these things in me. It feels alright for me to start confessing things to him, even though I barely know him.

After not telling these things to anyone for so long, after bottling them up inside, maybe it will do me some good to let it all out.

And so, just by looking him in the eyes for a split of a second, my ''I am not going to let myself be vulnerable in front of him'' plan goes to trash. Well, at least it worked for some seconds.

"Yes. Maybe. I don't know. I mean, at first he was so nice to me but after-" no, this thing I still can't say out loud. I can't still make peace with his loss. "I don't know… After some time, he began to act mean with me and say all kind of things to me and point out all kind of stuff and… and then he would apologize and go on with being nice and I never protested to that. And that thing kept on repeating…"

I didn't realize I was again crying until he has placed a piece of a softer kind of gauze in my hand and gave me his so comforting, typical line, "Easy, love.".

"Thanks." I stop to sniff my nose and as I wipe my tears away, I follow the intricate way in which he is covering my cut.

"What else?"

"Nothing much. I thought he was just stressed out or something, because of his job and all the travelling he had to do, and that it was some kind of a phase he will eventually get over and I… I kept on finding excuses for him. Thinking about it now, he wasn't telling me a lot of things and he was always so secretive and always gone somewhere. Well, at least now I know why."

He finished dealing with my new mess and he's now looking at me, giving me all his attention.

"I even thought that by moving here things would get better for us an- but God, I don't even know why I am telling you all these things. I shouldn't bother you with my dramas. You don't care about any of that. They don't matter anymore. They all happened some time ago. And I don't even know why I'm still crying. I know I shouldn't cry for him."

I rub my eyes, trying to get rid of the tears for good. I guess that by now my face looks really bad, all red and puffy.

I am not usually like this. Not in public or around strangers anyway. Not many people got to see me crying. I am pretty good at keeping things bottled inside. But apparently, not anymore. All I want now is to make myself little and cuddle into him and stay like that for hours. Days. That would make me feel so much better.

"I shouldn't let all of this affect me, I know it… but… It doesn't matter anymore."

I get the strands that escaped out of my bun out of my face and look towards the window. It seems that the snow won't come anytime soon and even the sun got up. I wish I would be out there, to take a run, just for five minutes, so that I would get that false feeling of freedom for a little while.

But he doesn't take into account what I said lastly. Instead, he asks me something else.

"Did he touch you?"

I knit my eyebrows as I look at him again.

"What do you mean he touched me? Of course he touched me. How can you be with someone if you don't let them touch you? Isn't this how human interaction works?"

"No, Rose. Not like that. Not in that way.."

As I get what he is trying to say, I shift my gaze and look down towards our hands, my eyes filling with tears again as I remember that not so pleasant day. He passes his thumb along my palm, sending a shiver all the way up to my arm, reaching my spine too.

How the hell did he figure that one out? I know I didn't mention that.

"Rose?"

I shake my head no. But this is not enough for him.

"Did he, Rose? Tell me."

I laugh bitterly as the tears I was trying so hard to keep back fall over my cheeks. I really should learn how to get a hold of my emotions. This thing here is getting annoying as hell.

I lift my gaze too, meeting the concern in his eyes.

"Once."

At this, his expression shifts for a second, darkness filling it, but going away as fast as it appeared.

"When?"

"There was this time a month ago when he disappeared for two days, without any notice. He wasn't responding to my calls, he didn't send me a single damned text. When he came back I asked for some explanations but he didn't want to say anything to me and well, I kind of accused him of cheating on me because I didn't know what else to think about that because I have been seeing some things and… and then he said some things and I said some more things, some bad, bad things and he-" I shake my head. "You don't really want to know. It's stupid. You don't care about this and I shouldn't bother you with my love problems. And anyway, it happened a while ago. It doesn't matter anymore," I repeat my previous lines, trying to get away.

I even want to get up from the bed and get somewhere away from his gaze, but he doesn't move and doesn't let me either. He just squeezes lightly on my hands.

"He what, Roza?"

God, when he calls me like this I just can't get enough of it. I think I could listen to him saying my name like that for the rest of my life. There is something about the way he is saying it that is making my heart flutter in a way no one ever did before. There's this thing about his accent that makes everything he says so different. So lovely. Especially when he doesn't try to conceal it.

"Rose, he what?" he insists. Why does he even want to know that? "Tell me."

"He... um... he slapped me, okay, comrade? He slapped me."

His jaw clenches and the vein pulsing on his neck is almost ready to pop.

"He what?"

"But I guess I kind of deserved it. I said all these horrible things. I don't know... Maybe I didn't deserve it. Maybe I did. I really have no idea what to think about this. I just-"

But he was long shaking his head, not agreeing with me.

"How can you say that? No, Rose. He shouldn't have done that. He had no right to act that way. You had the right to know."

"Yeah, maybe I had the right to know, but he didn't think this too." Instead, he found an efficient way to make me shut up, right? "But you know, it takes two to tango, comrade. I am not not to blame in that."

"Why? What have you done? Haven't you been honest to him?"

"I was, but-"

"But what? What reason did you give him to act like that?"

"Well, I…" just the usual. My big mouth. He doesn't seem to appreciate it, so it shouldn't be a surprise Alex didn't either. "I did say-"

"No. I believe you did nothing wrong."

"How can you say that? You weren't there."

"I just know."

"Just like you know them all?"

He smiles a little. "Yes. Just like I know them all, love."

"You know? I wanted to break up with him on so many times before. I was feeling there was something not right, but I did nothing. Why didn't I just do it earlier? At least, it would have spared me of this entire thing that is happening right now. Maybe things would have been different if I would have just left. But no, I stood there and let it all happen. I even kept finding excuses for him." I laugh again. "I was so foolish. And I don't even know why."

He smiles once again, sending through all my body soft and warm feelings as his fingers brush on my cheek.

"Oh, Rose, love makes us do stupid things sometimes." wow, this thing sounded so wise and zen and stuff.

"You know that too?"

"Yes. I know that too."

Well, considering it now, I wouldn't call it love. Not the real kind anyway. I guess I felt butterflies. But the bad kind. The one kind that make you blind to everything. But still, I won't be a hypocrite and say that there wasn't anything at all between us. I won't deny it, even if it only went in one direction. Maybe for him I wasn't anything more than a cover, but I had some feelings for him some time ago. Whether it was true love or not, I still don't know.

All I know is that now, all of those feeling and butterflies are gone and I would- I will claw his eyes off if I meet him. I wish to make him pay for everything that is happening to me now. He is the only one responsible for all this mess.

"Have you ever been in love?" the question blurts out of my mouth without me even thinking it.

His eyes move down on my hand and I see him biting the inside of his cheek. He surely didn't expect the conversation to turn into his direction. I don't even know why I asked him this in the first place. But if he's making such statements, he must know what he's talking about, right? What stupid thing did he do because of love?

He clears his throat. "Let's get you something thicker to cover this up, okay?"

He changed the subject so easily and I don't see the point in insisting. He is obviously avoiding it. Maybe I got again too personal. Maybe I am asking for too much. It seems that I am the only one who is making confessions here.

Gosh, this drives me mad! Anything I would ask him about himself, he avoids the subject. But what would be the point of me picking on him now?

I look down at our hands too and that's when I see it. I haven't paid attention to it until now, I was too preoccupied with other details on his palms, but now I see that he has no fingerprints. This cannot be.

I take his index and bring it closer to my eyes, just to convince myself. I even put my glasses back over my eyes, stupidly thinking that a simple piece of glass would make me see better.

"What is this? Is this some kind of disease or something?" is there something else or more to it that makes him act the way he does?

"No."

"Then what's the thing with this? Where are your fingerprints?"

"They were chemically wiped."

"How?"

"With some acid."

"What? Acid? Wha- Who would-? Why-?"

Well, it's not like I have any idea on how a spy's or whatever he is world works, but I guess it is way harder to identify someone without fingerprints, right?

"Did it hurt? It must have burned like hell."

I keep on walking my thumb over his smooth skin. This is beyond crazy. Acid?

"I don't remember anymore. I guess it did."

"What do you mean? Were you sedated or something? Did they drug you?" did they do this to him against his will?

"No, Rose."

"Then what?"

"It doesn't really matter."

"It does." why can't he tell me a single little thing? Just for once. "Tell me. Please."

He sighs, but fortunately, gives in.

"I don't remember if it hurt- how much it hurt because I was ten."

My jaw just drops and I hear it in my head hitting the floor.

"You what? Are you serious right now?" I study his expression and he is dead serious. "Who would do something like this to a kid? God! What kind of people-"

"Hey. It's okay."

"On what planet is this okay? You were just a kid. You… It must have hurt so bad…"

What sick world did he grow up into? A lot of things that could have happened to him while he was little pass my mind. How could his parents allow something like this? Where were they? I mean, at ten kids should be worried about friends and school and getting some new toy, not to get their fingerprints erased and get turned into killing machines.

But I know that any of my questions won't get an answer from him.

Instead, I resume to soothing the skin of his fingertips and to curse the fate in my head. No kid deserves this.

"How can people be such monsters? You were just a kid…"

Now I can't get this image of a frightened- no, not frightened. I bet that even when he was a little boy he wanted to seem fierce. And maybe he even was a little fierce kid, not afraid of anything. But still. Even with his fierceness, he was just a boy that got burnt with acid.

"It doesn't matter anymore," he says seeming resigned. "It happened a long time ago, love."

"That is not a good reason! They-"

"Rose, it's okay." he calms me by squeezing on my hands. "Really."

"How much time ago?"

He shrugs. "Twenty years…"

Twenty years. He has been in this for twenty years? My eyes fill with tears once more. I wonder how many atrocities he has been through ever since he was a kid. How can you do such a thing to another human being?

I can only be glad that my list of things I know about him is getting a little bigger. Comparing to what he knows about me, my list is infinitely shorter, but I guess that this is a start. I don't know why, but him being this complete mystery to me is only making me want to know so much more about him. He seems to have so many things to hide, so many layers to uncover and I want to know them all. Too bad that it is so hard to make him tell them to me.

"And… do you still feel?"

He now takes control of the movement of my hands, and starts contouring the lines on my palm.

"I feel plenty, love."

So, after a fight, a little moment we had and my wrist taken care of, he now lets me take a look at what clothes he managed to find.

The first bag I pick up contains the underwear. Three sets. And well, to my surprise, he has good taste in lingerie and he guessed my cup size. Which is weird as hell because this could mean that his stare has been on some of my parts for quite too long. Or maybe he just remembered it when he saw it back to my apartment. Which is just as bad. I just can't imagine him taking a look at my bras as he would snoop around my apartment; it's too much. Anything involving him and my bra size is not good.

But leaving that thought aside, let's get back to his tastes in lingerie. Because he got me lacy underwear. It looks really nice and I must say I like it very much, even though this wouldn't be my first pick when I would enter a shop. But hey, I must work with what I have.

The first one I get out of the bag is dark red and has a cute flowery pattern made from lace, but still, it seems some kind of unpractical. The other two in the bag keep the same sexy air, having other lacy patterns on them, and they are one black and the other dark green.

I won't need any sexy underwear while being on the run, don't I? Plus, there won't be anyone around to admire it, unless the guy next room decides to get as touchy as I did last night. Maybe this is why he bought it in the first place. Ha! Like he'd ever live the day to get me naked. Let him hope if he likes it.

But I won't complain too much about those. What I don't like more is what the other bag contains.

I get out of the bedroom with the pieces of clothes in my hands, barely keeping myself from throwing them at him. I need to look for explanations first.

"Tell me, comrade, what are these?"

I get the clothes up for him to get a better look at them.

Half lying on the sofa now, he gets his head out of his book and replies lazily, stating the obvious.

"Your clothes."

"Yeah, I get that. But they are like, so small and so tight," I say pulling the material of one of the T-shirts, trying to stretch it but it doesn't really cooperate.

"They're your size, Rose."

"What are you, the size master? I am telling you they won't fit me. And what about these?" I wiggle a small piece of red material in his direction.

A small smile creeps on his lips. Oh, he so bought these on purpose. But to hell if I am parading my ass in front of him in these, no matter how much he would like it.

"They're some shorts."

"No, really? But may I remind you it's not shorts season yet? That is about six or even seven months away buddy. And shorts? You name these shorts?" he nods. "These are no shorts. They are more like boxers or I don't know what else. No offense here, but you are not good at clothes' sizes. Underwear, you manage well. But the rest is not that great comrade. And…" I throw the so-called shorts at him. "If you think I am going to wear any of these, you're dreaming. If you bought any of these to make fun of me, you ain't gonna see that happen. I am not wearing any of these.."

"Fine. As you wish." and he dares go back to his reading.

But maybe he didn't get me right.

"Look, let's get one thing straight. I am not going to wear any of these."

"And I said fine. I got it right the first time, love."

"That's all you have to say?"

"Look. I didn't have the time to look around many stores. There are not that many of them close to here either and I knew you were in here…" he stops, letting me fill the silence. I was here, hurting myself again. "Those are the only things I could find on such haste. So you'll have to deal with what you've got."

"Fine. Then I am going to keep on wearing these." I point to what I am already wearing. "But not those. I am going to wear these until they stink and then some more. You know? I thought that if I am going to go with you everywhere, then I wouldn't smell bad or I could at least look somehow decent. Not like a hobo or a loose woman. But trust me, I can wear this forever. And then, maybe I would attract the people following me with my smell. Does that sound good, comrade?"

"But what is wrong with what I took you?"

"What's wrong?! They are slutty looking! They're so tight and so small and so revealing. They won't even fit me. And on my last check, outside it's almost winter, right? Look, this T-shirt has such a deep cut I might get pneumonia wearing it! I am not going to wear any of these, period. They are too… something."

"Unlike your nun clothes, right?"

I sit there, my mouth open. Is that what he thinks of me? That I am a nun? To hell with him.

"Yes. Unlike my nun clothes."

I throw all the other clothes at him, as hard as I can, and he doesn't put much effort into dodging them, not that they would bring him any harm if they would touch him.

He's not saying anything else next, just looks at me, expecting me to probably give in and accept the situation, like I always do.

Well, this time I am not. I cross my arms over my chest and reciprocate the look he is giving me.

"So? Aren't you going to do anything about this? Are you going to let me stink?"

He rolls his eyes for the first time. Wow, so I was able to make him do this. Yeah, I am such a pain in the ass, I know it. I want to be one now.

"You know, for someone kidnapped you have quite some demands."

"I guess I do." It's the least I deserve. "The question is, what are you going to do about it?"

"You know that there is nothing that compels me to do these things for you, right?"

"Fine. So be it. Don't do it. I won't ask for anything from you from now on. I will die in these clothes, but to hell if I am wearing those! You can wear them if you have gotten so attached to them."

I turn around to get back into my room, away from him.

He is so, so- ugh! I am not asking for that much, aren't I? Some decent clothes, that's all I want.

He sighs so deeply that I hear him from across the room, and I am almost sure he rolled his eyes again.

"Go get dressed, I am taking you shopping," he says defeated.

"You are?"

"Don't know. Do I have a choice now?"

"There is always a choice."

"Don't force it, Rose. Go get dressed before I change my mind and decide to take everything back."

He again uses that treat, but in my mind, I am already making a little victorious dance. I really got him to cooperate for once.

"We can go now."

"No. Go get changed." he still wants things to be done his way. Of course he does.

"But I am not going to wear these. What part-"

"I got all the parts, love. You said that a hundred times now. But you won't die if you'll wear these for half an hour."

Well, he's right. It's a little sacrifice I have to make.

"Fine, wait for me."

"I am not going anywhere." of course he is not. He is here to torment me all the time.

But getting closer to him to retrieve the clothes I threw at him, he watches me all the time, and I don't know why, but I feel the need to thank him. He walked over his ego to finally agree with me and this is quite admirable for someone like him.

But my good intention is only met with sarcasm.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever you wish, love. I am at your service. Always."

"Oh, comrade… you… whatever." he is so insufferable!

I snatch the clothes back and head to the bedroom before he changes his mind or decides to say something else that would make me smack him.

It takes me a little while to choose what to wear. With the pants it's easy. Between the boxers and the dark pair of tight jeans he got me, you can guess what choice I made. I only hope they will fit me.

And now I have three T-shirts I need to pick from and I don't really like either of them. I analyze them for some minutes and I pick the one that might suit me better. It's dark yellow, reminding me of mustard, and has a round cleavage cut, but it's not that bad. It is a little too tight for my taste, but I'll survive.

I was just beginning to put on my bra, after putting the too little panties on, when the door of the room opened and he got his head inside.

Shocked, I stop midway and freeze, the bra getting to hang on my bent elbow wrists.

"Rose are-"

As his eyes lay on me they widen. Mine were long widened and my mouth open.

Sitting there, under his glare, my whole body starts burning.

Move, Rose! You're naked!

I forget about the bra, letting it fall on the floor and I get the T-shirt from the bed fast, covering as much as I can of myself. Which, with that little piece of material, isn't much!

"What are you doing? Haven't you heard of knocking?"

But he doesn't respond, he doesn't move a muscle, his eyes keeping on being focused on my body.

I try to cover some more of myself, but that is past impossible.

"God! What is wrong with you?"

I get one of my boots from the floor and throw it in his direction.

"Get out!"

He snaps out of his state and finally moves, managing to close the door behind him, just before the boot lands, banging on the door.

Oh, gosh, and just when I said he won't ever get to see the day to see me naked. Wasn't I wrong?

Feeling hot all over and trembling lightly, I dress myself fast before he decides to come back.

Can things between us get even weirder than this? I wonder what will happen next. I pray that nothing. It is already getting harder and harder to be around him. I still can't get out of my mind that image of him without a T-shirt on and now he has one of that too in his mind. Gosh, I so want to die.

I get out of the room, having only one thing in mind. Avoid eye contact. And it seems that he thinks of that too.

And fortunately, we both silently decide to act like this thing didn't happen at all and I can't be more thankful. If he would have made a comment, I don't know how I would have reacted.

As we make our way out, in a silence full of tension, I try to keep my eyes off him and I take a look at myself into the mirror of the elevator.

I don't look as bad as I thought I would. The clothes seem to fit me really well. He was right after all. They are my size. But maybe a new size, because I haven't worn clothes this small in a while. Maybe I should have taken as real what my parents have told me when they told me I was starting to resemble a skeleton a while ago. Good thing that I found some comfort in sweets though.

But considering that all I have been wearing for the past months are mom jeans and large sweaters or T-shirts, paired from time to time with some just as big skirts, wearing these tight pants right now it's something new. And I can't say it's a bad thing.

I turn to one side a little and check myself some more, only liking what I see, but I catch his eye too, looking at my reflection as well. Will he stop staring at me already?

I move my gaze and look down, shying away and I make myself busy with picking up some inexistent lint off my T-shirt.

I usually don't feel comfortable when men look at me that way, but I'll say that I like in particular the way he is looking at me. More than I would ever admit out loud. I don't know, even if it is making me blush like crazy, there is this fire I see in his eyes each time he looks at me. It's either this or I am just imagining things. Yeah, I probably am. I am going totally insane.

He speaks first, breaking the ice.

"Where do you have those bruises from?"

"Huh? What bruises?"

"The ones on your ribs."

"Oh, I…"

DPOV

I pray to God that I wasn't the one who made that too, but they look fresh. Too fresh. And I already hate myself enough for the others.

"You know, in the car chase, when that car hit us…"

Of course. It hit the passenger side, you idiot! You should have thought about this!

"Why didn't you tell me you hit yourself that badly?"

She shrugs. "It didn't seem important."

"It didn't seem- it didn't seem important?" how can she say it is not? "Does it hurt bad?"

"Not really. Plus, I didn't really get to feel it hurting that much. Maybe with all that adrenaline and alcohol…" yeah, it will only start hurting more later.

"Can I… It may sound like too much to ask you, but can I see?"

"Um… okay. Sure."

She slowly lifts the T-shirt, revealing the ugly purple bruise on her ribs, her breath becoming harsher with each breath taken in, and it only gets worse when I touch her. Gosh, it drives me mad that she still reacts this way.

"Easy, love. I am not doing anything to you, okay?"

"Mhm. Okay."

I walk my hand over her skin, searching and praying I won't find anything broken underneath. The last thing I want is for her to have a perforated organ.

"Does it hurt to breathe?"

"Not really. But maybe if I take too much air in. Or when I move too fast."

"Rose… you… you should have told me." was she afraid to tell me or something like that?

Goddamnit, through how much does she still have to go through? And why couldn't I take better care of her? I am supposed to keep her safe, right? How come I am the worst at this job?

RPOV

I wanted to tell him not to worry about me or something but I didn't get the chance.

Because along the way, we have reached our destination, and the doors of the elevator open, and guess what? There are people waiting to get in. And I am still with my T-shirt pulled up and he is still with his hands on me. How does this look for an outsider?

Weird. Very weird. Because oh, the looks people throw at us. Just like we were about to start something indecent. How come everybody is thinking he's doing me?

As I flush and burn all over from embarrassment, he doesn't give a single fuck. He moves just like nothing happened, he takes his time covering me, takes my hand in his and drags me out of there, and even throws one of his famous ugly glares at a lady that started saying something.

And as we're making our way through the hallway of the reception, I am the first one to start chuckling nervously, but after I see him smiling too, things don't seem as bad anymore. So what if those people saw us? They will forget it by next week.

And finally, we get outside.

And outside it is freezing as hell.

And he seems to observe this too because surprisingly, he puts his duster over my shoulders, wrapping me in his warmth.

But my mouth can't stop itself from making a comment.

"Oh, so now you trust me? What if I get away with your duster?"

He looks at me, a "are you kidding me?" expression on his face. Like, how do I dare even think of separating him from his duster, right?

"I trust no one."

Ouch.

"That thinking will get you far in life, comrade."

"It did so far."

"And is it pleasant?"

"The world isn't pleasant."

"Well, aren't you an optimistic?"

I follow him into the parking lot, and we get back into the car from yesterday.

And of course, my mouth can't shut.

"How do you live with it?"

He seems to be doing just fine on his own. Maybe too well and I am really curious how he's managing to do it. Ever since Mase died I felt more alone than ever and so I did ever since. Like a piece of me is missing. And on some days I have no idea how to cope with it.

"Live with what?"

"With being lonely."

"Who says I am lonely?"

"Your job? It doesn't really seem like a job that allows you to have people around. Of course, unless it's some interest involved. Isn't it how it works?"

I have hit a sore spot because he doesn't respond right away. He doesn't respond at all. He just looks out the window.

"Comrade, I didn't-"

"No. It's perfectly fine. I didn't mind that you asked. But you are wrong. I am not lonely. I don't miss people. I have chosen this life and I am happy with it.".

That was the flattest tone of voice he ever used. I definitely screwed things up with this question.

"Okay. My bad, then."

As he drives, I can't stop the feeling that he is still upset on me for that question, and I keep on racking my brain for something else to ask him, some subject of conversation. But the only thing I find is this.

"Do you think I look like a nun?"

"Your style does not concern me."

"But even though, you made that comment earlier and bought me these clothes to mess with me."

"Fair point. But only the shorts. With the other ones not. And.." he moves his attention from the road to me. "I am sorry about the comment, it wasn't my place to make it."

"But you still think I look like a nun." he said it after all.

He smiles and shakes his head.

"I think you look…"

He now takes a second to probably think of a good lie to not hurt my feelings some more. Who knows, maybe he's thinking it will make me cry again.

"You look just like you want to look and that shouldn't be none of my business. It isn't. You can wear whatever you want. You'd still look nice, Rose."

Wait. Waaaait. What did he say? He just made me a compliment?

He takes me to the mall nearby, and while being into the clothes shop, all of a sudden, as I am looking through stacks of clothes, I wonder what he would like for me to wear. What he would think I look more than nice dressed in.

I could ask him. He is anyway just behind me, hovering like some kind of a bodyguard and I get to feel like one of those superstars that actually need one.

But leaving that aside, as I look at different pieces of clothing, with the corner of my eye, I try to see if he has any reaction at my choices.

To my unluck, he doesn't have any. He's mostly looking around the shop, probably making sure there is no threat around and when he bothers to throw a glance in my direction his expression is as blank as a piece of paper.

And I know this is the stupidest thing to ever do, but I can't help it. I would like to wear things that would make him look at me like he did in the bedroom. Well, then maybe you shouldn't be wearing anything at all, dum dum. This is why he was looking at you.

Pushing those stupid things aside, I went through the shelves like a tornado and it took me only five minutes to get what I thought I needed.

As we're waiting in line for the checkout, I play with the material of a dress on a hanger next to me.

"Why don't you try it on?"

"What, this?"

"Yeah. It's the fourth time you look at it ever since we came here. Take it if you like it."

"Nah, it seems too unpractical. I don't need it."

But yes, with all that rational thinking, something in me kept on making me come back to it. Would he like to see me wear it?

DPOV

Maybe she doesn't need it, but I'd like to see her wearing it. I'd love it.

That dress seems to be made just for her. I really like it. It's just above the knees, the soft material would perfectly round over all the good places she has, and the square neck with spaghetti straps would emphasize her cleavage and those collarbones of hers. A pair of heels is all that she'll need to drive me insane. And if she'd let her hair down, that would be the end of me. Did I mention it is dark green? Seeing her hold the dress close to her, I know I was right. She would look amazing in green. I want her to buy this.

"Why should I buy this anyway?"

Why, not? I could find a way to find that dress a purpose. I could, for example, take it off.

"It's hard to be on the run dressed into something like this, right?"

"Right."

RPOV

Without the dress, we got out of the store and now we walk in front of some others from the immense mall, making our way towards the exit. We wasted enough time in the open and I get to feel guilty for that. Maybe getting here wasn't such a good idea after all. But if we hurry maybe things would be alright. There doesn't have to be danger all around us, right?

"So, are we going to switch places now?"

"Yes. We have stayed there enough. We'll get back to pick up my bag and eat something before going somewhere else."

Oh, yeah. Food sounds like such a good idea at this moment and my intestines make some low sounds just by thinking about something to eat. Lately, I get so absorbed by the things going on around that I don't realize I didn't get to eat anything. Good thing he is there to keep me well fed.

"And then what? Until when are we going to move from place to place? It's been about two days already. What are we waiting for?"

"For something to happen."

"Something like what?"

"Something like me getting new orders. Or-"

But as he is looking around, his attention focuses on one thing and he tenses up in a second.

He gets a hold of my arm and I think that he just tries to avoid the subject. Well, not again comrade.

"Or what?" I want to know what the other possibility is.

"Turn around now," he says and pulls me back towards the place we have just passed through, guiding me towards the escalators.

"I thought that we were going to take the elevator."

"Not anymore. We need to get out of here. Fast."

"What? Why? What happened?"

Okay, so this seems serious, not just him trying to distract me from the discussion we were having.

"I guess someone found out where we are. Unclasp your hair and don't look up."

I do as I am said and we get at the top of the escalator.

"Are you sure? Where are they?"

"Do you see those men dressed all in black that walk around turning around women?"

"No. Where are they?"

"The Givenchy shop. They are just in front of it. Some of them anyway."

I take a sneaky look back to the place we were heading to a minute ago and I see what I missed until now. Wow, he is so observant of his surroundings. And they were like just in front of us. How could I possibly miss them? They really stand out from the crowd.

But, to my disappointment, I did miss them and I would have gone exactly in their direction if I were on my own. And that surely wouldn't have brought me any good.

"How did they find us?"

Really now? Is there a chip in my neck or something? People seem to follow us everywhere we go and it is getting really annoying.

"I don't know yet."

He takes a second to pat his pockets and then shakes his head, clenching his jaw. What? Did he forget his gun or something?

"Um, comrade, there are some of them heading up too." what is he looking for?

I have spotted two men at the bottom of the stairs, looking around the place.

But he doesn't seem to have heard me as he is busy with looking through his pockets some more. Do they contain some magical thing that would help us disappear? I sure hope they do because if they don't, I really don't see the point in him giving all his attention to this thing.

Finally, he gives up on his search.

"Fuck! I lost- you."

He throws me such a look that makes my intestines knot. Why is he looking at me like that? I didn't do anything bad.

"You got rid of the jamming device," he declares obviously pissed off.

But I didn't get rid of anything!

"You brought them here."

"I what? I didn't-"

"You wore my duster! It was in my pocket. And you got rid of it," he says between his teeth, so, so angry.

"I didn't even know that was here!"

"To hell you didn't." his distrust in me hurts me. But hell, he said he trusts no one, right? Why would I be different?

"Comrade, I-"

"I don't want to hear it. You'd better do what I say now, or I swear to God…"

I decide to not plead for my cause some more and be a good hostage.

But we have no way out and we need to come up with something fast.

The thing is that it's too crowded to get up or down on the stairs now and if we would try that, we would attract the attention of these men. So we are trapped in between people.

And this descend seems to extend to an infinite as adrenaline starts pumping in me. We haven't even reached the middle of the stairs, that slow we are moving.

"There must be something that got them to get here," he thinks out loud. "What is it?" he asks me, expecting me to actually answer him.

"Nothing. You got rid of everything of mine."

"No, I didn't," he says, realization filling his eyes. "I didn't, Rose."

"But you did. The only thing left is me. Do you think I have some kind of chip in me or something? Don't you think I would have felt that?"

He shakes his head and moves fast, taking off my glasses before I manage to stop him, and throws them over the stairs. They fall before I can do anything to get them back.

"No! They were mine."

I lean over the banister a little and I see that four men around the mall are already heading that way. Well, it seems that he was right after all, but still. They were still my glasses. And I needed them more than I ever needed an object in my life.

"They must have had some kind of tracking device in it. That you knew of."

"I don't care," I say, tears beginning to fill my eyes and I blink fast, trying to keep on to the promise I made to myself this day. "I don't give a damn about any tracking device. They were mine," I almost growl at him, trying to keep my voice as low as possible.

"They're just a pair of glasses, Rose. Can you please don't make such a big deal of it?"

"They are not just a damned pair of glasses. They were... Leave it. You won't understand anyway. You don't care about anything anyway."

He doesn't waste time arguing with me. Because now there are some more important things going on rather than my loss.

He takes a look around and then slowly, he turns his back to the left and turns me a little too.

"Someone is coming up from the other way."

With the tail of my eye, I see a black familiar figure approaching on the other side, getting up. It's one of the guys I spotted earlier, one of the four that were heading for my glasses. They must have found them and saw that I wasn't attached to them.

"Now what? He's surely going to see me soon."

"Why would you care? You want them to see you, right? They're with him."

"Because I don't want to go with them, okay?! I don't know what is going around, but gosh, just believe me. I did nothing to bring them here."

His expression tells me that he won't believe it, no matter what I tell him.

And that man keeps on getting closer.

"What should we do?" we'll argue later. Now we need to get away alive.

I turn my back completely to the man and look up at the only one who can do something helpful, trying to cover up my face by pulling the jacket he just bought me up on me by rounding my shoulders, getting them closer to my neck.

"What if he turns me?" I whisper. Only four people are between me and her and things are starting to move fast all of a sudden. "Comrade…"

"Don't pull away."

"Wh-?"

But before I get the chance to finish my question, he places his hands on my cheeks, covering the most of my face, turns me around some more and pulls me closer to him, lifting me on my tippy toes.

At first, as surprise shot through me, I froze. I didn't know how to react.

But then, as I feel his lips pressing on mine, I relax and I rest my palms on his chest, melting in his arms.

And God, this kiss. It feels so good, I have wanted it to happen for so long. I close my eyes, enjoying the feeling of his lips on mine to the fullest.

Everything around me ceases to exist, there's no more danger around, no man getting up and who may see me. There's only him and this kiss.

I lose myself in this kiss and sighing, I part my lips, and gosh, he goes further and gets his tongue past them, the warmth of his flesh invading my mouth, his tongue finding mine and making my whole body shiver with its movements, his palms pulling me even closer to him, my palms clutching onto the leather, him taking control over all my sense. Over all of me.

And he doesn't let go of me or stops kissing me, his tongue painfully slow playing with mine, tasting, pushing, pressing and exploring.

That until we reach the bottom of the stairs, when the magic goes away.

Soooo? What about that kiss? Do you think it will lead to some more soon?