Chapter Twenty-One
Julien
I got out of the car and shoved my cell phone into my back pocket. I was being a dick but I had to be. She thought she had feelings for me and that shit had to end. Now. I wasn’t her lover, and I wasn’t her friend. We had a business arrangement and if for one moment I entertained the idea that it was something else, something more, then I was a bigger fool than she.
Cash’s email had thrown me for a loop. A million dollars to hand her over to the stepdad. I’d made a deal with Mia, but this doubled the money she would, or even could, pay me. The math was easy.
Fuck.
It should have been easy, and it was pissing me off that it wasn’t.
I watched Mia climb out of the car and slam the door shut. Even though I had to squint against the afternoon sun, I knew she wasn’t looking at me. She wasn’t able to. Well, that was what I’d wanted to achieve, wasn’t it? If she hated me, it would be easier, no matter what the fuck I decided to do. We didn’t have a future together. I was a hit man. There could be no future with someone like me, not for her. Not for anyone.
I took a step toward her, hating that she shrunk away from me when I did. We walked together without speaking, without really touching even as I guided her toward the station with the barest presence of my fingertips at her back.
“Which locker is it?” I asked once we were inside and walking toward the area where the lockers were.
She searched inside her bag to find her wallet, retrieving the key.
“219.” She pointed toward a bank of battered lockers. “There.”
I took the key from her, and found the number. The key slid right in and the door opened. There inside was a slimmer than expected leather-bound notebook. I glanced at her to find her eyes wide, staring at the ledger.
“Have you looked inside it?” I asked.
She nodded as I took the book and opened it, just glancing at the handwritten text. Names, numbers and comments, dates, and more dates. Many of the names I recognized.
“Do you know any of the people listed here?”
Mia shook her head. “I don’t even want to.”
“I think that’s smart.” I closed the locker and took her by the arm to the café. “Do you want something to eat or drink?”
“I’m not hungry. What are we still doing here? Shouldn’t we go?”
“No, we have time — and I need to take care of something first.”
Scanning the locker area, I found a little food vendor tucked in a corner. Walking up to the counter, I ordered two sandwiches and two bottles of water.
“I told you I wasn’t hungry, Julien,” she said when I reached for my wallet to pay.
“You should eat. It’ll be a long day and who knows what crap they’ll serve on the flight.”
“I don’t care about that.” She looked deflated and it bothered me that I was the cause of that. But I forced that thought aside.
Ignoring her, I gathered the tray and we walked to a table at the very back. There, I set her food out in front of her and took out my phone. First thing I did was send a message to Cash:
How much just for the book?
I then opened the ledger and began to photograph each page, not missing a single one.
“What are you doing?” Mia asked.
“Insurance,” I said, snapping another picture before looking up at her. “Eat, Mia.”
“Why did you do that?” she asked as she tore back the wrapping on her sandwich.
“Why did I do what?”
Her face flushed red. “Let that man see me.”
I took my time, setting the phone down and leaning back in my seat. “I thought it would be the most effective and efficient way to show you your place.” I was being an asshole. A fucking asshole with a capital A. “Like I said, Mia, don’t confuse things. It won’t be good for you to do that.”
“I’m not confusing anything, Julien—”
“Oh no?” I leaned in toward her. “Then it must be me.”
“Why are you being such a jerk?”
“Because that’s what I am, Mia. A jerk. And it would be smart for you to remember that.”
“You keep telling me what I should do, what I should think. Well, don’t worry. I got the message and I won’t forget it. Besides, maybe I’m the one who should remind you of your place in this. I hired you. You work for me, asshole!”
Shoving my chair from the table, I got to my feet, picking up the notebook in one hand and dragging Mia up by the other.
“What are you doing?” She tried to push my hand off her, but she wasn’t strong enough. Not nearly.
Other patrons looked at us but I ignored them as we walked toward the restrooms, taking the key from the counter as we passed it and going into the men’s room.
“Get your jeans down and bend over,” I told her after locking the door.
“No! You’re fucking insane or bipolar or something with all your fucking mood swings!”
“I have to admit,” I said, gripping her arm again and undoing her jeans with the other hand. “I like it when you fight me.”
She struggled, making it hard to yank the tight jeans off. “Stop! You’re crazy. People will hear.”
“You should have thought of that before.” I switched on the fan to muffle any sound and turned her, forcing her to bend over the sink and yanking her jeans down over her hips.
“I hate you.”
I wanted to say that it didn’t matter. That all that mattered was the fact that I was the one keeping her alive. But I didn’t because it did fucking matter. I pushed her panties down and undid my jeans, one hand pressing between her shoulder blades even though she’d stopped struggling. I wasn’t even hard, hating what I was about to do, hating myself for it. But I had no fucking choice. She needed to see who I was. What I was. It would make things easier later.
I rubbed my cock against her pussy, and slowly pushed inside, forcing myself to look at her only to find her watching me in the mirror. Those eyes, those fucking eyes, even now, even given what I was doing to her, inside them wasn’t the hate that I expected. That I fucking deserved.
I pulled out and gripped a handful of hair, tugging her head backwards, hurting her. I forced myself to watch her as I fucked her, made myself look at the hurt in her eyes, wanting to make her hate me. Needing to make her hate me.
Just a few thrusts. It was all it took. She squeezed her eyes shut when I fisted that handful of hair as I neared my climax, closing my own eyes. Coming.
This was fucked up. I was fucked up.
I loosened my grip and opened my eyes, meeting my own reflection in the mirror. If I’d had any hope of redemption before, it was gone now. Gone as Mia’s body went limp. She could never forgive me this. I knew it.
And I hated myself for it.
“Julien.”
My vision blurred and I quickly swiped the back of my hand over my eyes before looking at her. I pulled out and tucked myself back into my jeans, all the while memorizing those eyes, the look in them. Because what I saw wasn’t what I expected. What I deserved. I pulled her upright and turned her to face me, unable to look away, because there, reflected back, was me. Not as I was. Not as I saw myself. But as she saw me.
She held onto hope. She still clung to it like a fucking life raft in the middle of the ocean. But the truth was, there was no hope. Not for me. I wasn’t good and I certainly wasn’t good enough — not for her. I’d known it all along, but seeing her now, after the way I’d been treating her, after what I’d just done to her, she was ready to forgive me. She desperately wanted for me to be good.
But I wasn’t.
I wrapped my hand around the back of her little neck. Christ, she was so fragile. I could snap it in a second. Anyone could.
I brought my forehead to hers. I couldn’t stop looking at those eyes, at the hope there, the promise of something I didn’t deserve, not in this lifetime. Probably not in the next either, if there was such a thing as Karma.
I held her like that for a long time. Her hands came up along my back, and she pulled me closer, smearing tears across her cheek and mine. I wasn’t sure whose they were anymore.
“I’m sorry.” My voice cracked as I made my pathetic apology, but she only pulled me closer and held me.
A knock interrupted us, but I ignored it, holding her tighter. But when it came again, I cleared my throat and straightened, releasing her and reaching for the door.
“Get yourself together. We leave in two minutes.”