Courage is being scared to death but saddling up anyway.
John Wayne
JENNIE
We have a hesitant truce. Well, truce isn't the right word for it. That implies that we've been fighting, but we haven't. The only things fighting between us are the could-have-beens and the shouldn't-bes. They're constantly at war with one another, rarely adhering to the truce that we outlined when Lisa thankfully agreed to forget my words.
I don't run from you.
It was stupid to say, but she needed to know why I'm staying. At least I was able to give her a half-truth. No way can I tell her that I'm not ready to let her go.
I feel the could-have-beens at night when the space on the bed between Lisa and me settles over us like an unnavigable fog. She's been sleeping on the bed with me since the nightmare, and I still can't bring myself to ask her not to.
I feel the shouldn't-bes when she gives me sweet little kisses for the paparazzi. After the charity match, we've been making more public appearances together, but we're still wary about the threat against my life. The police don't have any leads and neither does Lisa's private investigator. So, Lisa has ramped up security. I have two personal guards at all times, Mino and whoever is assigned to me that day.
I'm half delusional and half realistic. I know that what we had wasn't actually something deep, but I also know that it could have been if I let it. But as it is, it was just a brief moment when two people that shouldn't be together realized they want to be.
And then it was over.
Quick but painful.
Oh, so painful.
And I find myself pretending that it didn't happen.
Lisa, bless her soul, is playing along with me, helping fight the awkwardness together with me by pretending it doesn't exist until it actually doesn't. We pretend there are no reasons for it to be there, and after a few weeks, it isn't. So, in many ways, we're back to how we started before she barged into her room the morning of the polo match and revealed her insecurities about depending on others.
That was the moment I realized that she's vulnerable. The moment that had me questioning the killer side of her. If there isn't that moment, there isn't the next tender moment and the next and the next. So, I fought to forget that memory, and when I finally did, it was easier to forget the kisses that came after
and the intimate handholding
and the conversations we have just by squeezing each other's hands
and the looks we still steal from one another
and how angry it made me when those people spoke poorly of her
and how great it felt to defend someone that I admire deeply
and how time is just a construct when we kiss
and how she knows that I dip my cookies in water
and—
I shake my head.
I'm supposed to be forgetting about her not thinking about her more. Lisa is on a flight to Italy. This is a rare break for me. Since Rosé's screw up with not knowing about the polo charity match until last minute, Lisa has been around more. About a month has passed since the event, and a new school semester has even begun, but until now, Lisa hasn't left the state once.
She spends most of her time in the Black Enterprises office building, which still means I have the penthouse to myself for most of the day, but at night, I feel her slither into the bed beside me. It's the bane and highlight of my day all at once.
Even with Lisa in the city, we don't talk much. I won't go out of my way to avoid her, though I want to. I refuse to put in the effort to avoid her, because it means acknowledging that there's something between us to avoid. I can't do that yet. Everything is still too raw.
So, I upped my coursework to twenty units and am always losing myself in mindless tasks. When I'm not doing schoolwork, which I still do in the penthouse, I'm physically wearing myself out, whether in the gym or Lisa's shooting range.
That's where I am now, taking out my emotions on a piece of paper with the outline of a man on it. The loud bangs of the gunfire are being drowned out by pop music. I have Bluetooth headphones on underneath the soundproof ear muffs I wear when I'm on the range. A playlist I got from Rogue is blaring into my ears, so loud I can't even hear my own thoughts.
I press the button beside me, and the target paper moves forward. Once I unclip it, I study the holes. I've gotten a lot better, but I doubt I'd be able to do this to a person. In a real life situation, I probably won't even have the guts to pull the trigger let alone do so with accuracy.
Not that I need to.
That's what Mino's for.
Entering the attached armory, I put away the hand gun I'm using and exit into the hallway. Mino is standing beside the door, his eyes scanning the wide hall. He stays out here whenever I'm messing around in the armory, because he won't be able to hear any threats beyond the armory's soundproof walls.
If there is a threat, he presses a button on the door, and an alarm will sound off in the range and armory, which can only be entered through the range. When that happens, I'm supposed to enter the armory, which doubles as a panic room. There, I'm to press a sequence of numbers, and the doors will lock in a way that can only be opened from the inside.
Monitors of what's happening outside will slide down from the ceiling. They'll be high definition, live, and equipped with audio. Protocol also has me putting on full body bulletproof gear that covers my arms and legs and calling the police if I don't hear from Lisa within fifteen minutes.
I've said it before, and I'll say it again: the security is overkill.
Even after the two shootings, I still think this.
When he sees me, I hand Mino the target paper I've annihilated. He grins and says something that looks like, "Better," but I have my headphones on still and can't hear a thing. I tell him I'm going to take a bath, so he stays outside the bedroom door when I enter the room.
I strip my clothes off, leaving a trail of fabric on the floor until I'm completely naked. I'll clean it up later, before Lisa returns. I'm dancing to the beat of the music, enjoying the freedom of having this place to myself again, when I enter the bathroom and see Lisa.
I freeze. She's in the shower, completely bare. She has a hand on the marbled wall and the other on her hardened cock. With her eyes closed and her head under the running water, she hasn't spotted me yet, so I don't leave.
If you ever happen upon someone like Lisa stroking herself as water drips down her muscular chest… well, you'd be lying to yourself if you say you wouldn't stop to stare.
I stand, rooted to the floor, as her hand strokes up and down the length of her enlarged cock. I feel myself gasp, but I don't hear it past the sound of the music coming from my headphones. Lisa stills, her hand stopping midway up her cock, and lifts her head up.
When her eyes lock on mine, I thought she'd stop, but she doesn't.
She takes in my naked form, her eyes journeying up and down the length of me, gleaming in lust and appreciation. Then, she continues to stroke herself while looking at my body. Her lips part, and I think a groan comes out of them, but I can't hear.
And Holy Hell, do I want to hear.
I rip the headphones out of my ears, tossing them carelessly onto the floor with the rest of my dignity. The magnetic pull that's always existed between us tugs me until I'm right in front of the shower, and the glass door is the only thing that separates us.
When I place one hand on the glass, she does the same, right over mine, shifting herself so she's face to face with me. I can open the door, and I'll be in there with her in a second. This isn't like that first night when we didn't know each other. She knows me, and I know her. She won't leave me this time.
But I can't.
I'm a coward.
Or maybe I'm brave?
I don't know.
But I'm not brave enough to leave her, and I'm too cowardly to join her.
Instead, I'm frozen in lust, watching her stroke her cock slowly. My mouth waters at the sight of a vein, running down her generous length. Her clenched fist moves slowly up, stopping at the head of her cock and twisting before moving back down to the base.
Water from the showerhead descends down her face, past her eyes, causing them to close. When she opens them, she catches sight of my fingers, which have dipped past the slickness of my slit and into my aching pussy. I finger myself, pumping two digits into my wetness and using the palm of my hand to ease my throbbing clit.
Her eyes connect with mine, and when she speaks, it comes out as a growl. "Come for me, Jennie. Come with me."
My body succumbs to her demand immediately, submitting to the pleasure, submitting to her. Not even a second after, she joins me, and my eyes can barely stay open through the pleasure, but I force them open, refusing to miss the sight of her coming for me. Coming with me.
When we're done, panting and just barely satiated, our hands are still pressed against one another, separated by the glass door. It's clear and thin, but it might as well be The Great Wall.
I'm swimming on the roof when I realize that Mino's not with me. I glance around, a frown tugging on my lips when I don't see him anywhere, and exit the pool. Water drips down my bikini clad body, but I wipe myself off with a plush towel.
After Caroline got shot and we decided on keeping me on lockdown at the penthouse again, Lisa had the roof converted into a pool deck. Instead of railings or a waist-high wall to prevent me from falling off the edge of the tower, she had bulletproof glass installed all around the edges of the roof. It's clear, fifteen feet high, and can withstand repeated fire from any sniper's rifle.
The whole set up was installed at an impossible speed, and it was all done for me.
By Lisa.
Who likes me.
Who came in front of me.
Who came with me.
Who I'm so confused about.
Who I realize is right in front of me.
"Where's Mino?" I ask, breaking the silence between us.
It's been a week since I watched Lisa come. Since I came with her. And I've been doing a great job of avoiding her. Whenever she's home, I lock myself in the theater room and fall asleep on one of the comfy seats. I don't even return to the bedroom until after she's left for work the next morning.
"I sent him home for the day."
I eye her warily. If she sent Mino home for the day, it means she's planning on guarding me herself until the night shift comes. Or maybe even past then.
"You've been avoiding me," she says.
"I have."
She nods, accepting my truth with little fanfare. "Have dinner with me tonight."
"We're leaving the penthouse?"
We haven't been seen in public in a while. Maybe she has an event I need to be seen at?
"No, I'll cook for you."
"You'll cook for me?"
The image of Lisa naked underneath an apron crosses my mind, no doubt a side effect of having seen her come. I flush, pushing the notion out of my head. I can't think about that.
"Yes, I'll make your favorite dish."
"Which is?"
I have a lot of favorite dishes. Food is my favorite dish. And it can't be narrowed down to one item.
"Lomo saltado."
Oh. She's right. That is my absolute favorite.
"You'll make me lomo saltado?"
Do I sound as stupid as I think I sound repeating all her words?
I can't help my dubiousness, though. We haven't spoken in a week, and she wants to have dinner with me and make me my favorite food? And it's lomo saltado. It's an art form trying to get French fries crispy while sautéing them in a sauce. I can't even do it, and I'm a pretty darn talented home cook, especially now, after hours of practice on the Jennie's Kitchen app on my VR console.
"Yes. Now, if you're done playing Repeat After Me, I have a dress I'd like you to wear."
She pulls a garment bag off of one of the lounge chairs and hands it to me. The bag is black, the same color of the chair, so I didn't even notice it there. I don't open it.
"So, you're making dinner for me, and you have a dress for me to wear, even though we're eating at home… Lisa, what is this?"
"It's a date." She says it so casually, so matter-of-factly, but it still flusters me.
A date?
"I told you I can't be with you romantically."
"You also came with your pussy wrapped around your fingers while you watched me stroke my cock. A cock that got hard thinking about your face, your body. A cock that came at the sight of you finger fucking your own pussy."
I shiver at the memories her brash words conjure. "So?"
"So, it changes things."
"And if we came together in the alleyway outside of Rogue, would that have changed things, too? Would I have gotten a date, too?"
I wouldn't have. We both know that. But I need her to say it. To say anything I won't like. I'm stalling, because I want to let her cook for me, to go on this date with her. But I'm afraid of what it'll mean about me if I do.
She's a killer.
She's killed a lot of people.
Remember that, Jennie.
"If you came as beautifully as you did a week ago, yes, that would have changed things."
The smile slips past my lips before I can trample it like the traitor it is. "You're a liar."
"So are you, Jennie. You lied when you said you can't be with me romantically. You can, but you're scared."
"Do you blame me?"
"Depends on what you're scared of."
"You tell me, since you seem to know all the answers," I mutter, crossing my arms bitterly.
She takes a step closer, causing me to tug the towel tighter around my chest. "You're afraid of my reputation. You're afraid of the mobster side of me, yet you haven't seen me do anything related to it. It's the predator that's been hiding you from the world that you should be afraid of. That's the person that went after the Andretti family, a warning for them to think twice before they go after her family again. That's the woman that will do anything to protect the ones she loves."
I stagger backward, disbelief written all over my face. "You love me?"
"No," she says, dismissing the thought quickly. "But I will. That's where this is going. Don't you see that? I care about you, Jennie. We already care about each other so much. If we didn't, I wouldn't have jumped in front of a bullet for you, and you wouldn't have defended me at the polo match. But I did, and you did. Don't you see what that means?"
I do.
It means she's right. I care about her, and she cares about me. I know this. I've known this for a while now… but I'm still fighting with her past.
With the disturbing body count she's left in her wake.
At my look, she says vehemently, "I didn't kill those men for the Romano family, Jennie. I killed those men for Vince. Because he took me in. Because he gave me a home. Because he may as well be my dad. Because I love him, and he loves me. I did it for him, and I would do it for you, too. I don't regret it. Even if it means I'll never be the person you give yourself to, I'll always do anything to protect you, and I'll always do anything to protect my family."
I take in the earnest expression on her face, etching the way she just bared her soul to me in my mind, hoping that I'll never forget her words.
Even if it means I'll never be the person you give yourself to, I'll always do anything to protect you…
I'll always do anything to protect you.
I'll always do anything to protect you.
I'll always do anything to protect you.
It feels too soon to say something of that magnitude, but it also feels right. Like no other declaration can be made for what we have than "always." And that scares me, but I need to fight past that fear, because no matter what, I won't run from Lisa.
But that doesn't mean we can't slow it down.
"If we do this," I begin, "we have to take it slowly."
A smile tugs on Lisa's lips, and I know why it's there. We hooked up just after meeting, and we moved in together after barely knowing each other. We also recently came together. The time for slow has long passed.
But I don't mean physically.
I can handle that.
I mean emotionally. Because if we keep moving at this pace, my like will turn into love, and I won't be ready for it. And I need to be ready for this, for her. This feels too real and too special to mess up.
"We can do slow," Lisa agrees, causing me to sag in relief. She leans in to kiss me, and I let her brush her lips against mine. When I try to tug her closer, she backs away from me and says with a smirk, "Slow enough for you?"
"I hate you."
She laughs and heads to the door. Over her back, she calls out, "Dinner. One hour. Wear the dress. I had Jimin sew in a bulletproof lining for you."
When she's gone, I open the garment bag, wondering what she picked out for me.
It's the dress.
My little black dress.
The one I bought in Morocco. The one I wore to Rogue. The one I thought Jimin donated.
Lisa saved it for me.