With my father all but two feet away, Victor tells me that he is not a doctor nor is he a Federal Agent. The sound of different medical gadgets throughout the room fogs my mind, as I murmur, “Then who are you?”
Tears burn my eye ducts, and like a broken dam. My stomach, my heart, my entire body is sinking as a woman’s intuition takes over. Yet, I stand strong.
“I’m one of the assassins who came to murder your father,” Victor begins. Then as if it’s not enough that he has dashed my spirits, and snatched out my heart, Victor adds, in fact he was the very first assassin.
“So, why didn’t you just kill my father?” I ask, with narrowed eyes and gritted teeth. Now that my heart is in Victor’s hands, he still won’t stop hurting me. There’s the lighter fluid, match, and my heart is up in flames as I stare at this man, that I’m so madly in love with.
I look at the clock. It’s 9 a.m. I’ve officially known him for 29 days. Still less than a month. Still my heart can do no less than love him with every inch of me. I ask with a cold tone, “Victor, why didn’t you just kill my father and go about your business?”
“Because I met you first,” he sighs.
“If we hadn’t met.” I snap my fingers. “No more Dad, huh? Guess you running into me was just my luck, huh?” I rub away the tears with my forearm; this man does not deserve to see me like this. “So, who the fuck are you?”
“My name is Victor D’Ross,” he says.
“Victor D’Ross,” I hear myself saying. Victor had told me last night after sneaking into my bedroom around two a.m. I shrug, “How much was Jonah Whitson worth?”
“$500,000. That exact dollar amount was given to me when taking this assignment.”
“Assignment?” My eyes look out toward the three stoic men. “Are they assassins, too? How does one’s life become just an assignment? How does–”
“Luxury, please listen,” Victor tries to take my hand. Even the touch makes my body react, heart traitor to all rationality. I yank my hand away and fold my arms instead.
“No, there’s nothing you can say. Allow me to thank you,” I begin in a smirk, giving a quick curtsy. “Thank you so much for not murdering my father.” I chuckle as if this is the dumbest statement I’ll ever make. “I don’t want to see you ever again, Victor D’Ross. I hate you.” I spit those words out like fire and wipe away the tears that keep falling.
These treacherous tears are telltale signs of how much I adore this evil man.
“Please, I care so much about you, Lux.” His sapphire eyes tug at my heartstrings.
“Fuck you! Fuck that, Victor.” I step closer to my Dad’s bed, needing wisdom and courage. “You’re a murderer! Get the hell on, you and your psychotic ass friends. Yeah, I’m guessing you can afford to have these motherfuckers here keeping me safe. All because of shame and guilt for lying to me.”
He shakes his head, “Luxury, if only you understood.”
“I understand this, and I hope you do too, because I know you and all your selfishness rarely, if ever listen.” My neck rolls around with each word, I exclaim, “I do not want to set eyes on you ever again.”
“If that is your wish,” he starts to grab something from the inside of the Burberry suit jacket.
“Yes, that’s as I wish.” I glare at a phone in his hand. “I wish we never met.” There’s a tension in Victor’s jaw that tells me that words have gotten to him. Well, fuck that!
“Take it. You don’t have to see me anymore, but when you are willing, I would like to talk to you,” Victor says in that ever-calming tone of his. “Keep this phone, you can call me, I will answer anytime of the day.”
“No,” I shake my head.
“At least, allow me to explain fully. It’s too much now, all at once,” Victor looks over at my father then me. “Allow me to tell you who murdered your mother when you’re ready.”
“My mother!” I shout, wanting to wrap my hands around this man’s neck and choke him. I want to murder this nutcase!
“Don’t fucking go there, Victor. I actually,” pausing, I try to compose myself but can’t. Feelings of anger, strife, and rage take hold of me. “I let you in,” I touch my chest, sniffling back even more tears, “I told you things about me that I would never tell anybody else. My mother and me; I fucking let you into all of that. You bring her up now! You manipulative son of a bitch!”
Fear clings as Victor takes my shoulders. I don’t want him to ever touch me again. The very feel of his hands is repulsive and reminds me of death! Victor looks me in the eyes. His voice is hard. He implores, “Luxury, listen to me. I promise to tell you all about your mother’s death and your father’s botched assassin.”
“Promises are no good,” are my last words to Victor. He places the phone on the rolling tray near the door and is out of my life.
My brain hopes for good.
My heart…
The rain begins to softly strum against the windows.