Taking a deep breath, I walk up and down my room. Once again I look at my phone, but the message does not disappear, as I inwardly hoped. 

'Let me know what time the dinner will be.'

It's a mystery to me how he got my number. As well as everything about him, actually. I bite my lower lip and sigh. 

'I don't know what you're thinking, but my parents aren't going to let me move out anytime soon.' 

'I don't care.' 

You've got to be kidding me! 

'Can you please show some understanding? Would you just let your daughter move out after you just met her boyfriend?' 

There's no response to that. Great, there you go again. Sighing one more time, I throw myself on my bed. The telltale burning in my nose proves that I'm close to crying, but skillfully I suppress them. He can't play with me how he likes! 

'You know what? Fuck you, you asshole! I don't know who you think you are, but honestly? I so don't care!' 

I write that, but then I get scared and quickly delete it again before I even accidentally hit 'send'. Growling, I ruffle my hair and feel myself getting more and more desperate. This can't be happening!

Now I'm no longer in his house, nor near him, yet he has me fully under his control! Taking a deep breath, I look at my screen, but he still hasn't answered. 

'A month at least? Please, they have to get to know you first. The only thing you'll achieve is that they'll refuse!' 

What scares me more is that my parents won't do anything about it. Actually, I wouldn't even ask them - why should I? I'm old enough. But I hope that this number will catch on with Leroy and he will really think that it's actually not that easy.

With a weird feeling in my stomach, I sit down on my swivel chair. I know I'm causing nothing but pain to my pride with my pleading and begging, but if he agrees, it's all good. 

'I asked you when dinner is.' 

Shit! I slump my shoulders and close my eyes in surrender.

'8 pm.'  

☼ ❅

Gasping, I stop at a bridge. God, I haven't been jogging in far too long and have missed the feeling of this refreshing freedom so much. I lift my head to the sky and sigh.

I love winter, but what I don't like is the sun coming up way too late. I swallow empty and slowly close my eyes, letting the dawn, that makes the darkness miraculously fade away, hit me and take a deep breath before I open my eyes again and greet the sun, which quietly and hesitantly, almost shamefully, makes its way high into the sky to bless us, humans, with some light. 

After the darkness follows the sunrise... 

I try to hold on to it, really try to keep the negative thoughts at a distance, but I don't manage it. My thoughts constantly wander to Leroy. How could my life change so drastically? How did I end up in his hands? And how the hell do I get out of it? Without hurting my parents and me? 

It will work out somehow. It just has to work out somehow! 

I exhale heavily, shake my head and keep running. This time, however, I don't stop until I get home and really enjoy the burning and side stitches. 

"Hey, honey! How's the weather?" Mom greets me as soon as I enter the house. She stares at me from raised brows as I sit down on the floor first and take a breath. "You're going to be sick. Who goes jogging in weather like this?" 

"The weather is fine," I reply, ignoring her prophecies. She hands me a glass of water, but I shake my head. You're not supposed to drink when you're still completely out of breath, I once read. That could lead to death. 

"In a minute," so I just say and slowly take off my shoes and sweater before settling down on a kitchen chair. This pleases my butt and I can't help but sigh. 

"So, what's he like?" Mom asks me after a far too sweet silence as she dries the dishes with a dish towel and pretends to be unconcerned, yet I know how eager she is for me to tell her more about him.

But what am I supposed to say? I hardly know him! I would have preferred to say "I don't know. Which victim knows more about her kidnapper?", but I can just hold myself back. Clearing my throat, I reach for my glass of water and try to gain time by drinking it slowly at first. Of course, she is not deterred and waits patiently. 

"Well, he's... Lovely, caring, and kind." Or rather, he likes to shoot his men in the legs and hardly talks to anyone, even pays attention to them. "And yes, he is a true gentleman." 

Well, a gentleman doesn't let a woman sleep on the floor. 

"Our conversations never find an end." More like our arguments. 

"I really love him, Mom." I really hate him, Mom.

"I'm so happy to hear that, dear! I hope you'll be happy with him for eternity," she replies, beaming at me. She seems much more excited than I am. I force a smile on my face. 

"Thanks, Mom."

I get into the shower, spend what feels like an entire hour there because the thoughts won't let me go and I think about how I should act if things get dicey. Should I try to calm Leroy down or my parents? How do I calm my parents down? And how the hell do you calm down someone like Leroy?!

With a sigh, I wrap my wet body in a towel before stepping out of the shower. I should just make sure it doesn't get to that point in the first place. Maybe it won't and I'm just worrying way too much. I look in the fogged mirror, blurry recognizing my dark blue eyes, and feel them begin to burn. 

I can't. 

And I don't want to. 

I don't want to go with him, dammit! 

I wonder if he'll let me talk to him. One last time? Maybe I'll convince him somehow... No, that won't work. And another idea would be to notify the police before he gets there. But is that really such a good idea?

A picture appears in front of my eyes of him blowing another bullet into the heads of my parents and me, or of one of his men days later, and I shudder. Of course. Even if he couldn't kill us, one of his men would. Sighing, I blink away the tears and talk myself into courage inside. 

It won't go wrong. And I'll go along with him... For now. At some point, he'll just have to let me go. 

Changed and with a cup of tea in my hands, I sit on my bed a few minutes later looking for a movie that will make the time go faster. In four hours Leroy will arrive and if I don't distract myself now, I will still go crazy within those hours until my heart will fully stop beating and that will be exactly when the bell rings. 

My thoughts make my heart race a little bit again and I shake my head. 

That's enough, Rina... 

Two love movies later, the time has come. He has to be here in a few minutes.

Sighing, I get up and stand in front of my closet to put on something properly. I decide on a pair of dark jeans and a long wine-red blouse. I put on some slippers and tie up my hair. Slowly, I stroll into the kitchen, where my mother is already setting the table. I sit down on the windowsill and stare at her for a few seconds.

A picture flashes in front of my eyes, in which I see her lying on the floor, covered in blood and already half-dead. Startled, my eyes snap wide and I shake my head vigorously. 

"Is everything all right, Katrina?", I hear her ask. 

"Everything is fine," I reply tonelessly. 

He's not going to hurt them, and now stop driving yourself so crazy! 

As I calm down, the doorbell snaps me out of my thoughts and I jump up startled, to which Mom gives me a quizzical look. 

"He's here!", I say, trying to sound excited and pleased, which isn't even that hard due to the panic now pumping through my veins again. Mom gives me a delighted smile, which tells me I'm more convincing than I initially thought. I turn my back to her as I make my way to open the front door and feel the corners of my mouth immediately fall into place.

As soon as I step into the hallway, she doesn't see me anyway, and thus she doesn't see me tensely clenching my hands into fists. Slowly, I approach the front door, inwardly praying that the evening won't be a mess. 

I falter as I finally open the front door and catch sight of Leroy. Fear creeps up my legs, tightening my throat and causing me to falter briefly.

He, however, is busy making a phone call. He gives me a quick look and then presses his lips together. His prominent jaw becomes sharp as he clenches his jaw. Apparently, the call came suddenly. 

"No me importa, quiero su cabeza. Take care of it," he mutters into his phone and hangs up. He's in washed-out Italian cloth pants that perfectly match his shoes and the dark blue shirt tucked into his pants, making his eyes sparkle turquoise. Only when you look closer you realize that his eye color is green.

The sand-colored hair is combed back neatly as always and fixed with gel, there is a shimmering shade of red on his lips, which shows me that he has bitten his lip bloody and the cold probably caused the soft blush on his cheeks and on the tip of his nose. If I didn't know better, I would have thought he was a harmless, beautiful man who could actually be my boyfriend and is now meeting my parents for the first time. Leroy holds still and merely raises an eyebrow as I look at him. I don't find a weapon. 

In his left hand, however, is a golden bottle, most likely containing expensive wine. Inwardly, I snort. If he thinks he can get my parents like that, he's wrong. 

I'm sure he's just trying to be polite, Rina, and didn't want to show up empty-handed! 

I look up at him and notice the amused twinkle in his eyes. I walk a few steps back, gesturing to him that he can come in now. He straightens his shoulders and comes in with his head held high. Arrogant bastard. He's just trying to provoke me, I think to myself as I close the door and then walk after Leroy, but he's already behind me. And he's damn close.

"What?" I whisper, startled. He leans both hands next to my head on the door so his scent hits my nose. 

"Everything depends on your behavior," he breathes into my ear, pressing a feather-light kiss to my cheek. I pull in a soft breath. As he pulls away, I reach for his wrist, but only catch his sleeve. 

"Hold on," I beg him and swallow before quickly releasing his sleeve. Even though I've searched his body and found nothing, I have to ask him at least once to really be sure. 

"Do you have any weapons with you?", I whisper. Leroy just raises his brows again in amusement. The corners of his mouth twitch up.

"Please...", I add. "Leave them out if you really have something on you right now. Please, you...", I'm still trying to say, but that's when he presses a finger to his lips and gestures for me to be quiet. I'm already whispering! 

"Your mother seems very curious. I can feel her presence and I heard footsteps earlier. Do you really want her to hear you?" When I shake my head at his words, he slowly shakes it too. An evil glint sparkles in his eyes. 

"Good, we should get inside now or they'll think I'm eating you out right now." 

At those words, I gently push him away and run into the kitchen, where my parents are already. Leroy follows me. I grit my teeth as I see Mom still just cutting the tomatoes into pieces. She certainly wasn't eavesdropping earlier! Leroy was clearly lying to get around my question. 

"Mom, Dad, this is Leroy," I croak, immediately clearing my throat. Mom turns around, beaming with joy, while Dad looks a little grim. Leroy's polite greeting consists of a proper handshake. 

"We can sit right down! I'll just finish cutting the tomatoes," Mom says, and I wrestle a smile from myself and gesture for Leroy to sit down before settling down next to him. Damn, I should have moved my chair a little away from his, I'm way too close to him like this! 

"I hope you'll like it, Leroy," Mom smiles gently at him once he finally sits down and we begin to eat. One look at Leroy is all it takes and I can inwardly exhale in relief. A small smile graces his lips. He can do it after all. 

"The food is really delicious," he replies. 

"I'm glad to hear that! It's Indian," my mother counters. 

"I know, I used to love that when I was a little boy," comes Leroy's response. As I lift my head to look at him, I notice the thoughtful expression. 

"Can I ask a few questions, Mr.?" asks Dad. 

"Please. And call me by my first name." 

"What do you do for work?"

"I manage a few hotels in Dubai and a musical theater for young talents. But I have to admit that my employees do most of the work for me. At the moment, I have a plan for a property in Miami. That's what I'm mainly concerned with," Leroy replies. I slowly absorb the information and can't deny that his life blows me away.

I thought he was just in the mafia. But it's probably all connected and he only runs the hotels to cover himself. 

"Impressive. Where did you go to college, Leroy?" is my father's next question. 

"Oxford," is his curt reply. 

"I was counting on Harvard," Dad retorts. Mom gives him a warning look, and I know why. Dad's vocal tone has changed. A provocative tone now resonates in his words, but it doesn't throw Leroy off his game. He smiles slightly as he answers this time. 

"Well, I would be almost perfect then, and that would be a lie," he says, looking to me and giving me an unassuming wink. My father smirks, but there's something in his eyes that bothers me. A spark that shows me he doesn't like Leroy at all. I just hope he doesn't get rude. 

"You look familiar, boy," Dad says. I hold my breath. As far as I know, no one knows the monster's face. Except me. 

"Where do you think from?" asks Leroy. I recognize a slight twitch around the corners of his mouth and frown. 

"I'm not sure," Dad replies, seeming to think. 

"Who are your parents, then?" asks Dad. Again, Mom looks at him warningly, but Dad pays no attention to her. Leroy shakes his head slightly. 

"They already died when I was a little boy. I don't know them." With these words, he reaches for his glass of wine and takes a sip, but the meaning of this gesture runs deep... Dad shouldn't have asked so directly. 

"I'm sorry. The question was thoughtless," I hear my father say. I lift my eyes to look at Leroy again, trying to interpret his expression. 

"You couldn't have known," Leroy replies, smiling at him, but I know that expression by now. 

Apparently, he doesn't like my father very much either.

☼ ❅

Damn Leroy...

quiero su cabeza- I want his head

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