I'll have to kill you

His voice replays over and over as I shove my head into my silk pillows, unable, unwilling to sleep. 

My head is swimming with everything that has happened in such a short time. One day I'm happily scamming upper class business men, then suddenly, I'm transported back to a place I've never wanted to revisit. It's sucking me back in. 

I place my head back onto the pillow, staring up at the unlit chandelier above me, silver moonlight and the twinkling lights of the city finding each corner of my room. 

Grunting, I pick myself up off the bed, staring over at the clock on the bedside table. Three a.m. Lovely. 

Draping the comforter around my shoulders, I settle into the window seat, pulling my legs up to my chest. The whole world looks so small from up here, tiny dots of people moving on with their own lives, the little boxes of cars zooming by with the occasional yellow flash from the taxis. 

It makes me feel so small. 

"Can't sleep?" I jump violently at the sound of Fiona's voice, holding a hand to my chest. 

"Jesus Christ, Fiona." I gasp out, shaking my head at her. "Scared me half to fucking death." 

She just smiles, two glasses of tea in steaming ceramic mugs. She hands me one and I cradle it in my hands, allowing the vapors to heat my face. 

I can feel Fiona's eyes on me and I sigh. 

"It's nothing." I whisper, taking a sip of tea, despite the fact that it's still scalding. 

"You always say that." She whispers back with a slight smile, and I can't help but realize how maternal she is for someone without a child. 

I stare back out the window, leaning my temple against the cold glass. I think for a moment, and suddenly, I feel like my insides are bubbling over, my guts so ready to spill. 

"You can tell me." Fiona prods, poking me with her foot. 

I look at her face, illuminated by the silver light. She's my only family in the world. And I know it's time to tell her. Everything. 

I take in a large breath, exhaling slowly. "My father was murdered four years ago. I saw it happen." 

She stares at me, but surprisingly, I don't see the pity in her eyes that I expect to see. She's just listening. So I continue.

"My mom...well she was never really around, I don't even remember her face. So I had to live with him, with my dad. If you could even call him that. It's so cliche, the whole abusive daddy thing." I'm rambling now, realizing that it's the first time I've told anyone what happened. 

Fiona nods. 

"But as cliche as it is, that cliche was dead on. He was angry at her, not me. But I looked too much like her apparently. He was in with some dangerous people, and one day, he said the wrong thing to the wrong person. He had just finished screaming at me, he had come home with bruises and I had tried to help him. But the second his fist hit my eye, the front door burst open. I didn't see them at first, I was too dizzy. I pushed myself back to the wall and just watched as these men...they shot him right between the eyes. I was convinced I was next and I just squeezed my eyes shut and waited, but nothing happened." I gulp, preparing myself for the next part. She's the only person in the world who I trust enough to continue the story. 

"When I opened my eyes, there a man there, a little older than me. My father's blood was splattered across his shirt, his face. He looked down at me, the gun was in his hand at his side. He picked me up by the shoulders, and took me downstairs. He set me on the front stoop, and just left."

I exhale, realizing how quickly my heart has begun to beat, and take a large gulp of my tea just to wet my bone dry mouth. 

Fiona's expression is slightly hard to read, but there is one thing I don't see and it makes me beam inside; I don't see pity. 

"And here I am, four years later, the happiest I've ever been." I whimper. I feel salt and droplets on my cheeks. I hadn't even realized I had been crying. I haven't for a long time. 

Fiona looks at me and grabs my hand, squeezing. 

"We've all got demons, sweetheart. And like you said, it all turned out okay." She whispers, letting go after giving my hand another squeeze. 

I stare at her, smiling through my tears. 

"Okay, now that I've spilled all my guts, your turn." I say, finishing the tea and laying the glass down on the ground. 

She smiles, and it's her time to stare out of the window. She knows exactly what I'm asking. 

"It's simple, honestly." She says, still gazing out the window. "I learned a long time ago that women like us don't belong on the street, under someone's boot. I have my own demons, and when I saw you, I knew you had your's. It's another cliche," She smiles at me. "But I saw myself in you, sitting on that corner, like I had so long ago."

Her gaze is distant, as if she's disappeared into some buried memory. 

"And I knew that I had to make sure that no one held you under their boot, that no one took advantage of who you were, like they had done to me. I wouldn't let that happen." 

She finally looks over at me, and smiles maternally. She stands up, grabbing my tea cup from the floor, and leaning over to kiss me on the cheek. 

"Thank you for telling me, Charlotte." She says as she stands up straight again. "Just know, that even though I've taught you to be independent, it doesn't mean that we don't need someone to help us carry our burdens."

And she walks out, leaving me in the pale light of the moon, and the warmth in my heart. 

I walk into a high-end bar, my white dress clashing against the dark reds and greens of the interior, smoke filling the air slightly as men talk, many of them with a woman perched on their laps. 

I step towards the bar, my first move as per usual, and smile at the bartender, quickly ordering my usual martini. I've already spotted my target, the balding yet bearded man sitting with a woman on each knee, chortling at something a man across from him said. A cigar hangs from his lips, causing ash to fall occasionally onto the lap of one of the girls. She ignores it. They almost look scared. 

I lift my martini to my lips, smiling slightly as I see him look at me from the corner of my eye. I'm about to start moving towards him when a hand catches my waist, pulling me backward. My immediate instinct is to throw my elbow back into my assailant, but I feel a hand quickly circle my elbow, stopping it in its tracks. 

"Fancy seeing you here." I hear that familiar sultry voice behind me and grit my teeth. 

Turning, I'm face to face with Damon, his five o'clock shadow giving his jaw an elegant curve. He's dressed in a navy blue suit, his tie perfectly knotted at his throat, expensive watch, a silver one this time. 

"I happen to be in the middle of something." I say, keeping a sweet smile on my lips, feeling gazes on my back. "You're drawing attention." I whisper harshly. 

His grasp drops from my arm, but one hand still rests on my waist, causing heat to flow from his touch, seemingly seeping through the thin fabric of my dress. He cocks his head to the side, appraising me, his tongue darting out slightly. 

He's too damn distracting. 

My body is begging me to sit with him, to see if those lips are as soft as they look. But my head is screaming at me to get my job done, and leave. Don't attract too much attention to myself. 

Damon's hand reaches out, grasping onto a strand of the red wig on my head. 

"I'm not sure I like this look on you." He says, frowning slightly. I step back slightly. 

"Well, it's quite beneficial that this look is not for you, Damon." I bite, looking over at my target, whose attention is now off of me, back on a girl in his lap. 

"You're going to cost me a shit ton of money, Damon. Now go." I start to move away from him, but his hand locks around my wrist. 

"I'm serious, if you don't want to lose that hand, let go." I say harshly under my breath, and his jaw clenches. A little devil in my chest is excited at how I'm able to anger him. 

He steps closer to me, drawing his hand backward, forcing me towards him. We're chest to chest now, with him still hovering over me. 

The woody and spicy scent of him almost overwhelms me. This man is the definition of an adonis, clean and cut and so eerily dangerous in his movements. Too calculated, too perfect. 

Part of me desperately wants to find the cracks in his demeanor. To exploit them until he breaks. 

His eyes bore into mine. I puff my chest up, trying to pull my hand from his grip, and failing. 

"Did you just threaten me, angel?" He asks, his tone dangerously sweet. 

"I must have, judging by what is either a gun in your pocket or..." I trail off, staring at him through thick lashes, smiling slightly. 

He isn't affected by this, as he just chuckles. 

"Maybe you'd like to find out." 

This comment jars me slightly. 

"I bet you'd just love for me to push you against a wall." He's whispering in my ear now, his breath hot against my skin. 

I can't control the blush that rises to my cheeks. He's a man after all. They all assume that with the job I have, that I must have...I must be experienced in other ways. Classic. 

He stares at me confused suddenly, scanning my face. 

I wrench my hand from his hold, and turn to look at the now empty seat, once occupied by my target. 

The blush on my cheeks turns from embarrassment to anger in a flash. 

I grit my teeth and whirl around at Damon. 

"How fucking dare you?" I get in his face now, growling. "You might have all of your daddy's money, but I do not, and you just cost me a shit ton of it." 

He sighs, and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a money clip bulging with hundreds. He flips out ten of them, reaching it out to me. 

I stare at it, aghast. 

"I don't accept money I haven't earned." I hiss, turning on my heel and walking out of the bar. 

The cool night air hits me suddenly, taking me by surprise. I begin to walk down the street, my fingers fumbling as I light a cigarette. I have no idea where I'm going, but I walk even faster when I hear his footsteps behind me. 

He grabs me, making me turn to face him. 

"Hey, it's not my fault he wasn't interested." He scoffs. 

"He wasn't interested because I was standing there with you." I growl. I take a deep drag of my cigarette, my hand still shaking. 

He looks around him, raking a hand through his hair. With all the anger in my system, I don't even think about how erotic it is as his long fingers rope through the strands, grabbing them slightly. 

Not at all. 

"Look, until you want to discuss that job with me, leave me alone." I snap. 

He reaches forward slightly, pulling the cigarette from my lips and stomping it under his foot. 

"Those will kill you, you know." He chastises. 

"Lots of things can kill you, Damon. Might as well be able to choose what will." I whisper. 

He scoffs again, stepping towards me. 

I step backwards, annoyed. It's amazing how he expects me to just take the money, to listen to him, to step towards him. 

"You're very difficult, you know that?" He whispers. 

"Contrary to popular belief, not all women are easy, darling." 

"That's not my experience." He grins, flashing that daring smile. This comment lights more rage in me. 

"It must be nice to have girls that want to sleep with the dangerous mafia man, but sadly, I am not one of those women. Now," I say, seeing Gustav's town car pulling up to me, headlights illuminating the area around us. "Do let me know when you'd like to discuss that job, Damon. I look forward to working with you." I say lowly, my voice slightly husky. 

I'm driving away before he can even respond.