We don't develop courage by being happy every day. We develop it by surviving difficult times and challenging adversity.

Barbara de Angelis

JENNIE

I let go of her, reluctantly, while she goes to the restroom. I wait in the car with Mino, unsurprised that Maybe Dominic went with Lisa. He is her personal guard, after all.

I'm stunned when the car door opens, and I'm abruptly pulled into a hug.

"You're amazing," Lisa says. She flusters me again by giving me a kiss as soon as she enters the town car.

It's over before I realize it even happened. I look around, almost expecting there to be cameras in the car. There aren't.

Ashton Kutcher? Where are you?

This is the first time since the night in Rogue's alleyway that she's initiated a kiss without having to. It makes my heart swell.

"What was that for?" I ask, breathlessly.

"That was a thank you." There are conflicting levels of tenderness and rage in her eyes. The anger wins over, and the result looks feral. "I cannot believe they said those things about me, and I just stood there like a goddamn idiot."

"Wait," I begin, disbelief coloring my voice. "You knew what they were saying?"

"Not when they were saying it, but I do now."

"How?"

"Translator app."

"How'd you know how to spell their words?"

"I didn't. I spoke them using the dictation feature."

"All of them?!"

"Yes." At my disbelieving look, shs adds, "Photographic memory."

"Wow. No kidding." I hesitate. "What did they say? Before I got there."

Her eyes darken. "I'd rather not repeat it."

I understand that. I didn't hear a lot of it, but what I did hear would have pissed anyone off. Jiyong called Lisa, a woman who built a billion dollar empire by the age of 25, one that Jiyong's livelihood depends on, an incompetent fool.

Doesn't Jiyong know who he's messing with?

Is he so clouded by greed for money and power that he doesn't realize what a worthy opponent Lisa is?

I study Lisa's expression. She doesn't just look furious. She also looks embarrassed.

I hate the look on her face, so I say, "Kiss me again, please."

It's reckless. Stupid. Emotionally driven.

But I don't regret it, because the embarrassment and anger on her face is replaced with exquisite heat.

And she kisses me again and again until my lips are red and chapped, and we're unaware that we've been sitting in the car, parked in her personal garage for almost an hour, while Mino and Maybe Dominic sit awkwardly in the front seat, listening to the beautiful symphony that is our lips pressed together.

When we finally make it into our home, I hightail it to the kitchen. It's just us. Lisa sent Maybe Dominic and Mino home as soon as we exited the car. I rummage through the pantry to the musical soundtrack of Lisa's laughter. It's at my expense, of course. My stomach has been making obnoxious growling noises since we exited the car. It's why we had to stop making out in the first place.

I open a packet of Famous Amos cookies and pour myself a glass of water.

Lisa stops laughing. "Don't do it."

I smirk as I dip a cookie into my water in slow motion then pop it into my mouth.

She groans. "That is so gross. I can't believe I kiss that mouth."

My heart skips a beat at the word "kiss" coming out of her lips.

I kiss that mouth.

I kiss that mouth.

I kiss that mouth.

I wish I recorded her saying that, so I could listen to it all day long. I'd set it as my alarm tone if I could.

"I think it's delicious." I take another bite.

She's had several months to get used to my cookie eating habits. It's not my fault that it takes her a long time to adapt to awesomeness.

"That's because this," she points to the cookies and water, "is like dipping cookies into milk for you." She grimaces. "You drink fat free, lactose free milk. That stuff tastes like water."

"No, it does not!" I say, indignantly. To prove my point, I hop off my stool and pour a tall glass of fat free, lactose free milk for her. I hold it out to her. "Try it. I promise it doesn't!"

She eyes it in disgust. "No, thanks."

"Please."

She sighs, but there's a small smile on her face… until she takes a sip of it. Her smile morphs into a grimace, but she still downs the whole cup quickly. "It tastes like water, you liar."

I shrug. "No, it doesn't." There's mock outrage in my voice.

But I'm smiling ear to ear, because she drank the whole thing even though she hated it.

She studies my smile. "Jennie?"

"Lalisa?"

"Thank you."

"You already said that."

"I don't think I can say it enough."

I flush. "It's not that big of a deal."

"Stop. It was."

"Maybe a little."

"Maybe a lot."

"You're welcome."

She's silent for a little while. "It was wrong of me to coerce you into this," she says, shocking the Hell out of me, "but I'm lucky I did. Still, I shouldn't have done it, and if you want to, we can stop this charade. No more favors. No more faking."

I gasp. This is it. My opportunity to get away from this scot free. I should want to take it, but I don't. I'm enjoying myself. I'm in like with Lisa. I don't know if she feels the same way, but I know she wants me physically. I felt that desire pressed against me in the car when I straddled her during our kisses.

But is that enough?

Can I give up my freedom—my way out—without knowing if she wants me?

I would be stupid to.

But stupid feels so good.

She remains silent for a few more minutes. "Jennie? I'm giving you an out. No strings attached."

"Hold on," I say, pressing my fingers to my temples. The headache is rapidly brewing. "I'm thinking."

I know what Doyeon would say. She'd advise me to say no, then run to her bed and demand that she ravage me. Which is why I know I should do the exact opposite of that. After all, Lisa is giving me an out not an in.

Gosh.

Why do I want her offer to be an in?

An invitation to make this real.

"You can keep the clothes. I can get you your room back in Vaserley Hall. You won't even have to pay for it. I'll still write your letter of recommendation, too, and give you everything we agreed on."

I stare at her. She's really selling this. It's almost as if she wants me gone.

"Do you want me gone?" There's an unsurprising amount of hurt in my voice.

"What? No." She exhales heavily, frowning at my face. "I don't know."

I wasn't expecting that, but at least she's being honest like always. "What does that mean?"

"It means I want you to stay, but I also want you to go."

"Why do you want me to stay?"

"Because I like you."

"Why do you want me to go?"

"Because I like you."

"Oh."

"Oh."

She likes me.

She likes me.

She likes me.

I'm silent for a minute, but my heart is pounding loudly. I can hear the thundering sound in my head. "I have no idea what that means."

"You and me both," she mutters.

Gone is the fixer, the self-assured, dangerous man the world wishes to know, and in her place is the real Lalisa, vulnerable and honest to a fault. I just didn't realize that this is the real her until now.

"Lisa?"

"Jennie?"

"Right now I'm finding it hard to believe you've ever killed anyone."

Her eyes widen in surprise, but she remains grimly silent. That's answer enough.

"Why?" I ask.

"You can't un-kn—"

I interrupt firmly, "I can't un-know it. I know. Tell me, please."

"The first time—" I wince. That means there's more than one time. "—I was 18." She sighs at my look of incredulity, which is still there despite the fact that I've heard the rumors and remember what she said at L'Oscurità. "I learned to fight at a UFC gym, and Vincent decided that it was important to continue my training when I moved in with him. Except his training was more intense. I didn't just learn hand to hand combat. I learned tactical training, weapons training, strategizing…"

I try to reconcile this Lalisa with the 18 year old fighter. I can't.

"I never thought I would have the chance to use it, and Vincent never wanted me to. It was just a precaution. But then one night, there was an attack on our house. It was coordinated, planned to a T, but what they hadn't planned for was me. Vincent kept me out of the spotlight. Only the family elders knew about our bond, so no one knew I was living there.

"The attackers killed all of our guards. They lost some of their own, but they still had sixteen men. They thought they had this in the bag. Sixteen men against the great Vincent Romano. That was a fair fight. They didn't know I existed let alone lived in that house. I took them out before they even got to Vincent's room."

"Sixteen men. You took out sixteen men? How?"

"The first few were slit throats. I got in a few well-placed stabs, too. They didn't even know what was happening. The rest were confused. They thought it was Vincent, though they couldn't be sure in the dark, but suddenly, there was only nine of them left.

"They had their night vision goggles on in the darkness, so their peripherals were useless. I made sure they couldn't see me. And then, I turned on the lights and shot the rest before they could take off their night gear." He makes it sound so easy. "When Vince woke up, it was to a house full of dead bodies."

"He slept through the whole thing?"

Lisa nods. "He used to take sleeping pills. It's why he had to have so many guards. Just in case." She gives a sordid laugh. "He doesn't take the pills anymore."

I exhale loudly. "And you killed all of those men?" I study her. "And more," I guess.

She nods, and I wonder why she's trusting me with this. "The Romano elders caught wind of what happened. There were too many dead guards. Vince couldn't cover it up. Plus, the Andretti family was responsible for the hit."

The Andretti are one of the five families. Their territory is in the South of the U.S. The northern area of their territory brushes against the southern area of the Romano's territory, causing a lot of territorial disputes over the years.

Pure hatred crosses Lisa's face. "They killed our men and tried to kill Vince. It had to be retaliated. They gave me a team and sent me off to do it."

I gasp. "At 18?"

She nods. "And I was successful, too. It was actually pretty poetic. I never learned who specifically ordered the hit, but I went after someone with the same rank as Vince. I did it the same way they planned Vince's hit, too. In his sleep. An eye for an eye."

I don't want to ask, but I have to know. "Did he have a family?"

"Yes, but I don't kill innocents."

"But you still kill people."

"Killed," she corrects. "I don't do it anymore."

I believe her, but that doesn't change the fact that she used to. It's different suspecting that she's a killer through rumors and internet gossip, but having it confirmed in such detail, straight from her mouth, a mouth that I recently kissed, is sickening.

I run to the bathroom and dry heave into the toilet. I can sense Lisa hovering at the door.

"I can't do it. I can't be with you when I know this," I whisper.

I don't know if this is a cheap way to fight the intense feelings she brings out of me or if I'm really this disgusted by her defending someone she loves. But killing people is wrong. I believe this with absolute certainty. Killing the assassins in self-defense is impregnable.

But going into Andretti territory and killing a capo and his men?

She didn't have to do that.

That's premeditated.

That's murder.

What type of person would I be if I know this and continue to pine after her? If I like her despite all of the blood on her hands?

Her words mock me.

You can't un-know it.

I should have listened to her. Maybe then would we have our what-could-have-been back.

Her mouth tightens, but she nods. "I'll have Mino help you with your stuff."

"Wait!" I falter, knowing that what I'm about to say is so stupid, so reckless, and so emotional. I shouldn't, but I continue anyway, "I can't be with you romantically, but I'll still honor our deal."

I don't know why I say it.

Okay, I do.

But it's foolish, and nothing good can come from this. Nevertheless, I can't let down the Lisa I've gotten to know over the past few months. The playful guy. The zealous kisser. The woman who was strong enough to accept my help just hours ago and thanked me for it with delicious kisses.

How can I deny her my help when she still needs it?

And if I'm being honest, I'm not ready to let her go.

I like her.

My thoughts are so conflicting, I can't figure them out. I like her, but I don't think I can morally be with her if she's killed, but I still am choosing to help her, yet isn't that just as wrong, since it means that I'm helping a kil— I don't know.

I don't know.

I don't know.

I don't know.

I cut my tumultuous thoughts off and wait for her to speak.

She does. "Why would you do this for me?"

I didn't know the answer to that a second ago, but looking at the honesty in her face, I know it now. The truth sticks in my throat, but I force it out.

It tastes bitter. Raw. Exposed.

"I don't run from you."

I can't.