"They? Mission? Ade? Kill me? What are you talking about?!" I freaked out and began waving my arms around like an air traffic controller, nearly smacking Wolfe in the face at one point. He ducked just in time. "What does that mean? What mission? What's a mission? Beam me up, Scotty! What's to kill? I'm to kill? Someone tried to kill me? You tried to murder me, Wolfe? I thought we were friends!" I wailed. Yes, I was having a mental breakdown. "Ade would never...I am simply aghast  at your accusations...I guess we're not in Kansas anymore!"

"Should I give you a moment to sort yourself out?"

"I would like to sort some jellybeans out!" I said loudly. In the open air, my voice seemed magnified. My mind was drawing a total blank, completely cleaned out by Ade's mysterious phone call and Wolfe's even more mysterious claims. So I was not at all  responsible for what I was saying. "Okay, alright. Alright. Okay. Alright. I'm okay, but I'm not alright. You wanna explain-" I jabbed Wolfe's chest hard with one finger. "-or you wanna die? Because you just said my best friend tried to murder me and what's for dinner tonight? I would very much like an extended explanation to both of those topics, and I would very much appreciate it if you were to tell me this instant immediately right now what the hell you mean, Wolfe."

"Okay." Wolfe sighed and took both of my hands into his. His skin was cold from the biting chill. "I understand that you're confused, and I will do my best to explain everything. You deserve answers, Florence. And I will gladly provide those answers...but first, I need you to calm down. Let's go inside, okay? I'll tell you everything inside, after we've had breakfast. Please, don't fight me on this." Wolfe let go and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers trailing across my cheek gently. After my erratic response, I felt numb again. "No more arguing today, Florence. Okay?"

"Okay, but can you just tell me what you meant by-"

"Not right now." Wolfe pushed me forward gently until I began walking and even then, he had to practically drag me along. "You're not emotionally ready to hear the truth. There are some parts even I don't understand. Let's go in and have some breakfast first. Give me ten minutes, Florence. Ten minutes to figure this all out before you attack me with questions. And then you can do whatever you want. I'll drive you back to Brooklyn when you're ready."

"What if I'm not ready to do that?" I whispered, more to myself than him. When I realized Wolfe was listening, I spoke up. "I don't know how I'm supposed to go back home and pretend nothing happened, Wolfe. Lots of things happened. Lots of things have changed."

"I understand, Florence-"

"No, you don't understand!" I stopped, glaring at him. We were at the front doors now. As I sulked angrily, Wolfe opened the door and pulled me in after him, but that was as far as I was going to go. Standing with my back pressed against the door, I frowned. "You don't understand, Wolfe. You will never understand because you're not me. You don't know the effect you have on people, what you put them through. I'm not blaming you, Wolfe, but I'm saying that our lives would have been so much easier if we never crossed paths. You can understand that part, can't you?"

"You're right." Wolfe stepped closer, his eyes finessing a raging storm all on its own. His fists were clenched and his lips turned into a snarl. "I don't understand, Florence. I don't understand why you flinch every time I come near you." He was within a feet in front of me now, and he easily closed that short distance, too. Placing both hands on the door, Wolfe leaned down. The emotion rolled off of his hovering body in tremors, in each breath that fanned across my face. "I don't understand why you freak out every time I touch you." 

I stared at him, I tried to find any sort of emotion in those cold blue eyes of his. It was hard, but it was there. His humanity was still there. I wouldn't try to save him, oh no. I'd rather not play the role of some lovesick girl trying to liberate her big, bad, and dangerous boyfriend from a life of crime. I didn't need a man to save. I didn't want that. But it was nice knowing that perhaps Wolfe Sterling wasn't as terrible as everyone said he was. "Please." The word left my lips as a whisper. I didn't know what I was pleading for, but I desperately needed it. Whatever it was. 

"Please what?" Wolfe teased softly. His hand came back, fluttering across my arm. "Please stop? Or please continue? I can do either one but I do prefer the second option. I remember how you teased me. How you kissed me like this-" His lips pressed against the bottom of my earlobe. "-and then told me to go fuck myself."   

Wolfe quickly slipped one hand under my shirt and thrummed his fingers across my bare stomach. My heart was pounding loud enough that I felt it in every part of my body. His hand was travelling up higher. Out of instinct, I shoved his arm away. He dropped his hand down and smirked. Point proven. His lips brushed my ear as he spoke. "I don't understand why your best friend tried to kill you, or why you still haven't run off yet, or why you're still keeping up that good girl act. I don't understand. You are a mystery, Florence." He mused.

I couldn't take it anymore. Shoving his hand away, I glared at him. "But this all happened because of you. If we never met, I'd still have my best friend. My parents wouldn't be worried sick about the future. New York wouldn't be in a panic. We'd both be happier. You know that, Wolfe. Sure, it's all fun and games now. But that's not going to last forever. We're not going to last forever."

A pained look crossed his face before Wolfe composed himself. It was a moment of vulnerability, one that left me confused. He really didn't think we'd be a thing, did he? What a ridiculous thought. Of course he didn't. Wolfe Sterling doesn't do love and flowers. "And why not, Florence?" He asked. "Why don't we get to have a happily ever after?"

"I thought you didn't believe in the concept of happiness." I pointed out.

Wolfe made a noise in the back of his throat. "I don't." He growled. "But you do, so humour me. What's the last page of your story? A white picket fence? Some boring lawyer husband? Two or three kids, a dog maybe? No, I know you, Florence. You don't want that."

"Maybe I do." I snapped. "Maybe that's exactly what I want, Wolfe."

"But it's not."

"It could be!" I slipped out from the cage of his arms and began walking to the kitchen. "You don't know what I want. I don't know what I want. Actually, that's a lie. I know exactly what I want. I want pancakes. Give me pancakes or give me death! Do you have any mix? Because if you do," I continued, not giving Wolfe time to answer. Talking was the only thing I could do to keep myself from breaking down right there and then. "You can throw that crap right into the trash. I'm going to make pancakes from batter if it's the last thing I do."

"Why do I feel like this is going to be a disaster?" He followed me into the kitchen. "But I'll help you anyways so you don't burn down the house. The utensils are in the cupboards and the ingredients are in the pantry."

Wolfe's kitchen was as elaborate as the rest of the house. A big wooden island counter with marble tops sat in the middle of the massive structure. It was constructed of the dishwasher and the microwave. The wooden cupboards were dark, contrasting with the chippered reflective ceiling. The stove and a long marble counter took up one whole side of the four walls, with the steel refrigerator and some more dark cabinets on the others. Bright sphere lights hung above the island, and the floor was shiny enough I could see my reflection on the white tiles. Oh, the perks of being rich...

"Pantry?" I questioned, searching around. 

Wolfe pointed to a set of sliding doors near the refrigerator that I hadn't noticed before because they blended in with the cream color of the walls. As he began clattering about, pulling out pans and mixing bowls, I ventured into the fridge. It was kind of empty but had the bare necessities, like milk and eggs, so I pulled out the ingredients I needed and set them down on the island. I also grabbed a bag of chocolate chips out of the pantry for good measure. Pancakes were not real pancakes without chocolate chips, of course. I was also about to go back upstairs to get my bag so I could have some Twizzlers, but when I turned around, there was already a bag of the cherry ones on the counter. 

"That is so sweet, Wolfe." I stepped over to pick up the bag of candy. Holding it up, I smirked. "You really know how to treat your guests right. Man, this almost makes me not hate you so much."

The corners of his mouth twisted up. "I'm making progress, then. By the end of this day, you're going to be loving me."

"Don't be so sure of that." I said, cracking an egg into a mixing bowl. 

We worked silently for a while. Wolfe measured out the flour. And then he accidentally spilled some on his clothes and I laughed my butt off for a good minute before he threatened to dump the whole bag over my head. A moment later, I cracked an egg too hard and the yolk ended up on my hands rather than the bowl. Wolfe laughed until I threatened to smash the whole carton on his chest. I was so tempted to grab an egg and launch it at his face, but I forced myself not to because he would probably kill me. Meat grinder, remember? So far, I had thrown a hot cup of coffee, a pair of keys, and a handful of grass at the face of Wolfe Sterling. 

When we had the batter done, I went over to the stove. "How do you turn this thing on?" I asked, fiddling with the buttons. I felt kinda stupid not knowing how to turn on a stove, but in my defense, the one Wolfe had was really fancy and advanced. 

Wolfe walked over, pressed a few buttons, turned a dial, and a circle of flame rose from one of the four burners. We quietly worked for the next few minutes, the pile of golden pancakes getting higher and higher on the plate. I carefully pushed in some chocolate chips into the one pancake on top, in the form of a smiley-face. Wolfe was tapping away on his phone. 

My eyes flickered to the oven clock. 8: 48 a.m. Wolfe asked for ten minutes. At least twenty minutes had passed already. Flipping a pancake over, I looked at him. He was now pacing around the island counter, talking softly on his phone. Even though it was near to dead silent in the kitchen, I couldn't make out his words. He was speaking too softly. Wolfe's eyes fixated on me for a second, striking blue as ever. I opened my mouth to say something but he pressed a finger to his lips.

I ignored the warning and spoke anyways. "Can you please tell me what's going on now?" 

"Yes." Wolfe said. I didn't know whether he was speaking to me or to the person on the other line. He shot me a glare and shook his head. Another warning to keep quiet. Well, I wasn't going to. I needed to know what the hell was going on with Ade, and Wolfe had the answers. "In the next hour or so. Yes." Wolfe shifted his cellphone to the other ear. "Okay. I'll- yes, she's here. I know, just relax. Elliot's not- just hold on, okay? I'll be there soon."

Wolfe ended the call.

"Can I know now?" I asked with some annoyance. "Or do you plan on keeping me in the dark for a bit longer?"

"I plan on keeping you in the dark for a bit longer." Wolfe growled. "Florence, I told you. After breakfast, okay?"

"Who was that on the phone?"

"That was Daniel."

"What did you guys talk about?"

"Nothing."

"Don't you dare, Wolfe. You can't say 'nothing' and expect me not to question you." I argued back. Wolfe sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose but didn't stop my rant. "Honestly! I just want the truth. I want words to come out of your mouth that are completely true. All you have to do is talk. That's really not asking much, is it? I'm not asking you to sacrifice your life for me or anything. I just want to know what happened and what's going on with my best friend-"

"He's not your best friend!" Wolfe almost shouted. He glowered at me, eyes flashing. "Florence, best friends don't make attempts on each other's lives. Don't be so damn forgiving. He tried to kill you. There's no sugarcoating that shit, okay? He. Tried. To. Murder. You. Or at least he had a hand in the mission."

"Why?" I whirled around, forgetting about the pancake on the burner. In my momentary anger, words left my lips without checking my brain first. Bad mistake. "I just want to know why, Wolfe! Why would he do that?" I jabbed the pancake flipper in my hand at Wolfe, furious now. "I've known the kid since I was in middle school. Ade couldn't hurt a fly  and he most certainly would not try to murder  me. Forgive me for saying this, but I'm starting to doubt every word that comes out of your mouth, Wolfe. You're not telling me anything! And you're not exactly the most honest person around here, either-"

Wolfe suddenly slammed his hand down on the island counter. The thud that followed his palm was frightening loud, and I involuntarily jumped, my heart pounding. 

"You knew things would get twisted when it comes to me." Wolfe breathed quietly. Dangerously quiet. His face was the calm in the eye of the storm, ragged around the edges and capable of destroying everything in its path. The destruction was there, lingering under the surface. It scared me when Wolfe was like this, so glassy and fake. My words had set off a trigger, the forceful rage that was his temper. God, he looked so dangerous, so untouchable, standing there, hunched over the counter and the full force of his eyes trained on me solely. It was enough to make the bravest of men tremble. 

"Twisted." I repeated softly. My voice wavered, giving off more fear than I would have preferred to show. Wolfe was halfway across the room from where I stood, so that gave me just the slightest feeling of courage. Distance was always helpful when it came to Wolfe. "That word doesn't even come close to describe the mess we're in."

He didn't reply. Wolfe pressed his lips together and then released them. The blood rushed back to color in the pink of his mouth. Despite the conversation, despite the situation, despite the dangerous dilemma I found myself facing, I couldn't help but get that urge again. The urge to kiss Wolfe, run my fingertips along his scars and remove whatever twisted thing that clenched his heart. Fluttery butterflies in my stomach, clammy palms, a pounding heart...all the signs of a schoolgirl crush. But this was no pretty boy, this was the most dangerous man in the country that I was dealing with. Yes, he was bad. He was as bad as they come. But he was beautiful, too. Not just in the physical sense, either. That's what scared me.

A physical attraction was okay. 

An emotional attachment was not.