AN: Helloooo! And welcome to an OFFICIAL chapter of Greta. I want to apologize for the whole two fake chapters. One was a celebration and the other was just a really important note as to why this chapter is late. I do want to update on that, my Dad is fully well and no one was hurt in the accident. Everyone says that my dad should have died in the crash and we talked to an Insurance man who was making a claim on the crash, and he says he is so surprised to be talking with the man who was in that car.

Unfortunately, the man who originally hit my dad, claims he was never apart of the accident and only went in the ditch. Obviously, that's not true since he hit also three other cars besides my dad, my dad was just first in line so he got hit the hardest, and so now we're thinking of suing the original driver. YAAAAAy

So, just a heads up, please excuse my French in this chapter *wink wink*. This chapter is like a two part since there was no other way I could possibly let this chapter continue with the way it turned out so

HAPPY READING {enjoyyy}

James POV-

The plane landed in New Mexico as the sun began to set. It hovered over the horizon and as Greta and I stepped onto the ramp with my luggage in my hand, we lingered on as Maurice and Lawrence went in front of us, just watching the sun dance in the colors of pink, purple and orange.

"I've always loved sunsets." Greta said, ending the entrancing silence between the two of us, her voice mellowing into a melodic whisper, "You should see the sunsets at my place. I built a tree house with...my father when I was younger, and we would just sit and watch at 6:30 every day. We never missed a single sunset."

I smiled at her and grabbed hold of her hand.

"That's amazing, Greta. You have such an interesting family."

"Had." She said, rather coldly. I squeezed her hand a bit, looking down at my feet. Sighing apologetically, she looked back at me, the frown on her face disappearing. "What are the sunsets like in London?"

My breath caught in my throat at the mention of my home. I couldn't bear to think of what it's like over there. I guess we both have our rough edges we don't like to confront.

"Oh. I guess I've never really bothered to look."

"That's a shame." She admitted. I nodded my head.

"Yeah. I guess it is." I smiled sadly. Still holding onto Greta's hand, I watched the sun grow dimmer and dimmer. "We should probably get inside. It will almost be dark and I'm afraid we'll run into something when it does."

She nodded her head, and trailed behind me as we made our way inside the small airport.

Why was she so quiet? Was it something I said? Or something I didn't say...

We caught sight of Maurice and Lawrence as they sat at the waiting area situated right in front of the door. A big glass widow replaced a wall, showing all of the planes and the runways.

"Woah-!" I exclaimed as, out-of-nowhere, I tripped over a suitcase, bringing Greta down with me, since she tripped over me. I landed on my stomach while she landed sideways across my back, knocking me back down to the ground as I tried to get back up.

"Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry!" The suitcase's owner cried. It was a middle aged man, with brown hair that swept across his forehead barely past his hairline. "I guess I should move this, huh?"

Greta laughed hysterically as she was able to get herself back on her feet, giving me her hand to pull myself up. I smiled at her, thankfully.

"Oh, don't worry 'bout it." Greta politely answered, still recovering from her laughing fit. I just side-eyed the man. Something seemed...off...about that guy. He seemed a certain kind of deja-vu that was more or less frighting than confusing. "You have a nice day, now." She kindly dismissed him as she grabbed hold of my arm, pulling herself close (most likely so we don't fall again) and taking our precious time to get to Maurice and Lawrence.

We looked around at the small cafes they had and the artwork the airport had placed across the floors and walls.

"Woah! James, look!" Greta tugged on my sleeve and pointed at the floor where we stood. Beneath us was clear glass with LED lights illuminating the water they had placed, small iridescent fish swam around in the water beneath us. There were more placed around Maurice and Lawrence's bench as the two sat at, waiting for us.

Maurice held a phone and was calling someone while waving for us to join them. Greta walked in front of me, still holding my arm as she quickly made her way (cautiously) to the bench.

Sitting down next to Lawrence, we settled ourselves on the bench, seeming that we were going to be there for a while.

"Yes honey," Maurice's voice rang, "we are in New Mexico. Juliet, calm down, we'll be fine-" Holding onto the speaker of the phone she turned and rolled her eyes. I chuckled a bit. "Juliet's worried we won't be there for Thanksgiving tomorrow." Maurice whispered before returning to her call. "Stop crying. Give me to Tony, I want to talk to him." She ordered. I felt Greta lean into my ear.

"Yeah, Maurice isn't good with over-emotional people." She whispered, talking about the bluntness in Maurice's words to what I can assume is her child.

"I can see that." I whispered back. "So, who exactly are these people we will be staying with for so long?" I asked her.

"Juliet, Jane and Jackson. They're Maurice and Lawrence's kids. We'll be staying at Juliet and Tony's house, it's huge." 

"And Juliet is...?"

"Their oldest daughter who was on the phone just now. She's marred to Tony. They have two kids, Cameron and Frederick. Cameron is eight years old and Fred is thirteen." She explained to me. I was starting to understand the Martin's not-so-crazy life.

"But what about the kid you were talking about on the plane? Or am I completely making things up?"

"Oh! Samuel! No, no, he's real," Greta laughed, causing me to smile, "he was born when Juliet was about sixteen."

I didn't mean to, but my eyebrows raised.

"Yeah...I was ten years old when he was born. His dad isn't there anymore, but he loves Tony like his real father."

"Good for them. That worked out well for them then." I admitted.

"Yes, it did. Jackson has a girlfriend, but he's way to shy to propose. He's too afraid he'll get dumped. I have no clue why he would, he's been dating the same girl for ten years."

If I had water in my mouth, I'd have spit it out.

"Ten years? That proposal is far overdue, poor girl."

I could see the curiosity rise in Greta's face at the mention of ten years being too long for dating. I thought about how long it would take me to propose to Greta.

If I were to be honest, I don't know if I ever would. I don't want her in any more of the mess I'm swimming in. But then, why was I even bothering with her now? I know if I keep going any further in this relationship, I will never want to get out. Even if it were for Greta's own good. I'm too selfish to do that to myself. I know when I'm happy and I know when I'm not, and I'm happy around Greta.

Realizing the problem I'm creating, I felt my mood swing down. I suddenly didn't feel like talking, and I didn't feel like learning any more about Maurice.

I had made up my mind.

After this, I was leaving for good. I was going to break it all off, and leave her. Even if it doesn't make me happy. Even if it means giving all of myself to the...other me. I was at the very verge of falling in love with Greta and I was going to leave before I fall and fall hard. I was going to save Greta, save Maurice and Lawrence and everyone in her life.

I wasn't going to let anyone change my decision.

It was final.

It was done.

"At least she's with him. With someone consistently. For ten years." Greta softly spoke. "I would give anything just for ten years with someone. Ten years of laughing, crying, and loving someone. It doesn't have to include marriage. Love isn't always about that. Just ten years without someone leaving you."

I wanted to cry. To tell her what was wrong with me. To tell her I'd only have to leave one last time. I wanted nothing more for her to be happy, and I know without me, she'd be happier. It was obvious she had Maurice and Lawrence, and everyone in the book-store. She had a good job, and (although I had the tiniest image from the dark) had a nice house. Greta doesn't need me for ten years.

Greta needs a man with a straight head for ten years. She needs a man with his records in right shape. She could marry a man with a sharp jawline and blond hair. He'd be a business man with real business and not have two 250 pound muscular men at his aid whenever someone wants to blow his head.

I'd leave and give room to a man who actually deserved Greta.

"Any ways, so that's pretty much it, Jane claims she's way too busy for love." She wrapped up. I gave her a small hesitant smile and looked straight forward. Sighing, I opened my mouth to speak,

"Greta, I-" Before I could finish, she shushed me with her finger.

"Look. Don't speak." Getting up from her spot on the bench she slowly walked towards the huge glass walls. I watched as she got close enough to put her hands on the glass, gazing up at the newly night sky. It was a perfect blend of the last of the sun and the moon. It reminded me of Greta and I. She, the setting sun bursting with color and light, and me, the dark blinking with the stars that looked so small.

The scenery set before me was beyond beautiful. With the sky, and the way Greta stared off into all that was, it was fit for a poster.

Once the last of the last surrendered to the night, Greta took one last longing look and waltzed back to her spot, yawning.

"This plane better fix itself faster. I'm getting tired." She spoke, trying to make conversation. I was just to caught up in my confused thoughts to answer. I could definitely tell she was tired, bags began to form under her gorgeous eyes and her movements were slow and sunken.

Placing a soft hand on my forearm, she got up from her seat. "I'm going to the Cinnabon. Sweets should keep me awake right? You want anything while I'm there?"

I shook my head. "No, but thank you kindly." I replied, waking up from my mind-sleep. Greta chuckled a little. I raised an eyebrow in confusion. "What?"

"Oh, your speech, that's all. No one has said 'thank you kindly' since the 1800's. " She teased, and I let out a small laugh.

"Oh, I see, make fun of me now, why don't you."

"I'm not making fun of you!" She argued, but paused. "Actually yeah, I'm making fun of you. Alright, I'll be back in a bit." Greta bid farewell, before practically skipping out of sight for the 'Cinnabon'. I smiled to myself and shook my head.

"If you are in some kind of tension, just know now, Greta's very hard to stay mad at." Lawrence said out of nowhere, not looking up from a New Mexico Newspaper.

"I can see that. She's just too happy."

"She wasn't always like that." Lawrence cleared his throat.

I could hardly believe it. Sure, some times she was quiet and said questionable things but I couldn't believe she wasn't always happy.

"What do you mean?"

"You know about everything, right? The accidents?" Lawrence peered at me from the side of the newspaper.

"Accidents? I only know of the one with her parents. They died, right?"

"Do you know how they died?"

"Well...no." I hesitated asking how they died, but I also didn't know if he'd be willing, let alone Greta.

"They, uh...they were murdered. In their own church during service. Greta was there, too. He didn't shoot her though, just left her with her bleeding parents."

My mouth went partially agape. No, that's awful. I felt sympathy, real sympathy. Something I've meet felt since the other James Moriarty took over.

"Holy..."

"And you don't know if her other accident as well?"

"No, only of the one."

"It was ranked the fifth worst accident in Utah history."

I felt my breath hinge. How could Greta be involved in such filth in her life.

"What happened to her?"

"Drunk driver accident. Got in a car with the wrong people. Hit a van with a family in it. She was cut in the stomach real bad and worsened it, basically endangering her life, by helping the family get out. There were three kids who survived. Their mother didn't, and Greta's been beating herself up about it ever since. She's says it's her fault for making her friends drive her home."

Why does she have to go through all of this? Why is the world such a cruel place? But then, I realized. I am the criminals, murderers and rapists in this world. I own gang chains and underground serial groups. I am the one who put Greta's life in ruin. It's my fault.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom, I'm sorry."

"No, by all means, do what you have to." Lawrence said with more empathy. "It was hard for me to take in the last several years, I don't know how'd you take it in several minutes."

I nodded my head, and slowly got up from the hard bench that created pins of pain when I was fully up. Immediately finding a bathroom sign, I raced towards it, almost making it in when a familiar face winked at me from a distance.

The stewardess from the plane. What did she want?

Beckoning me to follow her, all of my senses told me not to. This lady was nothing but trouble. When I glared at her and looked straightforward, ignoring her, I could hear her giggle from across the bustle of people and suddenly she wasn't so far away in the corner of an airport. She was closer.

More beckoning made me believe this lady wasn't going to give up, and ready to chew her out, I marched over to her with a hard cold stare.

"What-"

"Shh. Just follow me. I need you to do something." She said seductively. Not wiping the glare off my face I went to turn away. With a taunting song, she put her hand on my shoulder and spun me back around. "Nuh, uh, uh. You're not leaving."

"Go away." I spat, and swiped her hand off my shoulder. "Just leave me alone."

"The girl? Is she in the way?"

"There is no way blocking me from anything. Just leave me and her alone."

"Okay. Follow me and nobody gets hurt."

"Now you're threatening me? Do you have any idea-"

"Oh, save it. I'm not threatening you. It'd be too easy and predictable."

"I'm not easy and predictable. Go to hell."

"Mm, prove it. Follow me and prove it." She taunted. My pride got the best of me, as she swayed to a hallway that was barely lit. "Oh? So you're in?" She raised a black, thin eyebrow as she opened a door.

"In what?" I asked as she slammed the door behind me, turning on the light as she did so. A lounge room. "Hey!" I exclaimed at the closed door.

"Don't be a baby, James. Love that name, you know. Sounds so...alluring. And your accent...oh. How do you do it?"

"I don't know. What do you want? Why are you so obsessed with me? And how do you know my name?"

"For the Napoleon of Crime, you know so little." Turning around and taking off her scarf, I stormed up behind her and grabbed a hold of her pale neck.

"How the hell do you know who I am?! Who are you working for!?" As I screamed at her she seemed so unaffected. What the hell is wrong with her, I have her in a freaking choke hold.

"Mmm. You have such strong hands, I wonder what-"

"SHUT THE HELL UP!" I shook her slightly and the smirk on her face only grinned more.

"She means something to you? It would be a shame if something were to happen to her..." As she coughed, the grip I had on her neck lessened. "I dare you to say you don't care about her, after all, you've done all this, just for her, am I correct?"

I didn't answer. I just looked to the side.

"Am. I. Correct?" When I still didn't answer she got up real close to me. "I can wreck everything you see now, you will regret this day. I promise you. My boss is growing fast. Fast enough to rival your chain. Either you quit and live your life with your whore and her old parents or you can save your company, your empire. Your decision."

"Call Greta a whore one more time and I will end you, right here, right now. Leave and never fucking come back." I spat at her, only turning my head to the side away from her as she walked around me and to the door.

"Oh? So that's her name? What a beautiful name. Almost as alluring as James."

The lights went out, the door shut and I fell to my knees, shaking.