*Charlie's P.O.V*

I remember my first time contemplating the notion of a kiss.

Berry, my mother's then fiancé, joked about the possibility of me biting my partner's tongue. At 14 and desperate to cover up my sister's mishaps, I didn't care. I came to his place on my own to beg him not to let my mother have Sil arrested.

And there he was, rather trying to make lighthearted conversation. I felt uncomfortable with the topic. I didn't know my insistence on avoiding such temptations would still bring them... in a horrific form.

Igor.

His mouth had no intoxicating allure. It was more like an intoxicated stench. My nose prickled. My eyes shut. Organs tried to hide behind each other in humiliation and guilt, leaving a nauseous flavour on my tongue. I tried to push him away, but he did not budge. At 15, I wondered whether I shouldn't have left Berry's house. Berry taught me how to kiss for a scene in his director's debut film.

I ran away before he could call in an actual girl, making an excuse that my mother was calling. I didn't do as Berry wanted, yet he didn't report my sister for drugging me.

Or so, I thought.

So my first was Igor.

*

The memory made me teary.

Mia's head rose sharply. I apologised, but she cupped my face like it was nothing. She leaned into my ear, whispering. "You are not for them. You are for yourself. You choose who you want to be with. It's okay if you don't want to be with me like this."

"Do you?" My head bowed in sadness. Her eyes lingered as I fumbled with the string in her PJ shorts.

"Charlie, I'm not expecting rainbows from you. I know you've been through a lot, and I just... want to be there for and with you. Every day and in everything. That's enough for me."

My heart melted at that. Securing my smile, she added, "Wanna be boyfriend and girlfriend."

Silence.

I drop my hand from her shoulder. Her eyes glimmered with hope. Fear humbles mine to look away.

"I'm already your husband, though."

"Oh yeah." Not her acting like she didn't know. "Ok, husband!"

"Ok, wife!" I smiled. She sat up to take off her shorts, throwing it onto the ground, much to my disapproval.

"You don't leave your clothes on the floor." I rebuked, taking and folding it. She watched me with a charming glint in her eyes, so I asked why.

"Are you going to fold every time we make love?"

I flushed. "Oh! Urm..." My hands slap my thighs. She winked, and I laughed, only for fear to creep back again.

"Maybe, not today... I'm actually not feeling well."

*

I had no idea how to behave the morning after refusing to have sex. Mia was asleep beside me, so I watched her...

Until I received a call regarding my new bodyguard - a burly lad I didn't ask for. To top it off, Mr. Palviokinsky had a list of farmers he wanted to support but had gone working for his daughter. Pamela's business, legal or not, was suddenly under scrutiny, by no thanks due to the Yeltsin's influence on what should be unbiased police investigations.

Then there's the case of Pamela's mother's murder. Then, Monet's assault. A lot of then-s to ponder over.

I would have spared myself thirty minutes to admire Mia if not for the bodyguard's impromptu arrival. He brought the farmers' list as requested, giving me less to complain about. I printed it out with a good narrative of wanting to give the farmers honour packages.

It was then that I also realised the police didn't warn me about the secret cameras I put in the Palviokinsky villa. In fact, there had been no mention of it anywhere. If they found it, they would be certain of whether Pamela killed her mother or not.

The realisation made me journey back and forth, rummaging for my other laptop through my belongings. After establishing that it was back home in the UK, I sought Leo's aid.

And now, I've just found out he and my sister were attacked by robbers. My father withholds any more information besides Leo's treatment for a back injury.

At this point, everyone I love needs bodyguards.

My ringtone interrupts my thoughts. Answering it, I'm surprised to hear Monet's voice. When I dropped her off from the airport, she gave me a cold shoulder, and now she wants me to come for the trial. For her.

I agree.

It's good that her attempted murder is the first case Pamela is being tried for - that way, Monet can return home fast. I really don't want her here. It's dangerous.

I freshen up before heading to the courthouse. There are only a few reporters and onlookers around, but inside, I find a hundred unrecognisable faces. I sit at the back, amid the palpable absence of the Yeltsins.

They're probably preparing for Joe's birthday or something.

The judge arrives. All rise. Matters proceed smoothly, so I blank out until the witness is called to the stand. I squirm, watching her slow gait.
Pamela doesn't even spare her a glance. She looks bored even, as if she is pleading guilty for stabbing her.

I just hope Monet will say the truth.

**

Can't tell if she did. Pamela is found guilty. I escort Monet out of worry for her safety. I'm stopping at her hotel room when I get a call from Pamela's lawyer.

She wants to see me.

*

I didn't expect it to be so easy for Pamela to receive visitors, but oh well. Before I know it, I am staring at her behind bars.

"Are you getting transferred?"

"I think so." Pamela frowns.

I frown, too. "Why am I here?"

"That bitch is going to die."

My skin crawls. Pamela smirks, making me say angrily, "Don't you dare try to hurt Monet. Just accept defeat and correspond with police-"

"I know you are smart enough to not trust them, Charlie. Not with that weird chief who just so happens to be one of Joe's past flings." Pamela cracks her knuckles. "Besides, I'm not the one who will end her. Or the farmers."

"The farmers?"

"Ah. So it's you." She leans on the bars. "Snooping."

"I'm just trying to help -"

"Getting them killed. That's what you'll be doing. Why don't you ask me directly? Huh? Whatever you want to find -"

"Oh, and you will tell me the truth?"

"Have I ever lied to you?" Her smirk deepens, disturbing me.

I step back. "There will be a catch."

There's a pause.

"A name." Pamela admits. "I want you to find out who pushed my mother off the stairs."

"Wasn't it you?"

Her jaw drops.

I shrug. "She deceived you after all."

"I only -" Her voice cracks. "- Found out recently. Not that it's any of your business. Just get me a name -"

"So you'll go after them?"

"I can't exactly do much from here, Charlie. Just need the name."

I squint. She can hire someone outside... or escape prison.

Or maybe not. Maybe she'll be locked up forever. It already looks like the Yeltsins have set her future in that direction.

"If I tell you," I say cautiously, "You better answer all my questions. Everything."

*
*

Before Leo sends me the footage on Mrs Palviokinsky, - before I find out the truth and scream - I realise that Pamela was right.

Five farmers have been attacked already. All but one dead. Leo thought I wouldn't put two and two together. However, it was clear that the robbery was a facade; in one call to Pameline, I learnt that my best friend and my sister saved the surviving farmer and planned with my father not to tell me.

"Leo, why on Earth would you go to those farmers -"

"It's done. Do you want the video or what?" He cuts me off. Glaring at him from my screen is no use. I shut up.

He sends the footage. He doesn't elaborate on which farmer or what exactly happened. He doesn't explain the footage either. I hate when we fight, but I hate it more that everyone has been lying to me. Why?

I watch it... and then vomit. The next day, I speed over to tell Pamela, but not before making her answer a billion questions.

"Damn, boy," she starts. "Ok, so I poached those farmers from my Dad. I wanted to sell the good stuff. The blueberry juice thing was more like my washing machine for cleaning the drug money. But in a few years after its inception, one of the boys who worked for me got involved with an arson case. He wasn't arrested. His girlfriend, however, was, and in order to bail her out, he suggested becoming my personal 'hitman'. That made me realise that I was wasting away the young, strong men in my camp. Plus, we were also facing threats from established gangs and whatnot, so we lost some of our farmers. The surviving ones tried to back out, but then again, they owed me millions for farm inputs and stuff like that, so. I left my brother to handle that aspect of the business while I tried finding business partners. I had bad luck until Igor came along, but ... you know. My business is practically over thanks to him and the little projects I did for our future. Our future. Ridiculous, right? And I can't even get back what I deserve as his wife."

"Are you expecting me to pity you?"

"Does it look like I need your pity, Charlie?"

I shrug.

Pamela turns to the ofiicer watching us and then whispers to me. "This is the only kindness you should expect from me. This lesson is right here. If you don't stop making rush decisions - like my decision to marry that idiot - you will have it worse. And if you fucking waste my father's resources on such foolish endeavours, I will boil you to death before your backstabbers do."

"From here?"

"Don't be smug, boy."

"I-" Before I can reply, another officer enters the room. It's my sign to leave so I get up, muttering that her mother's killer is one of her in-laws.

Pamela freezes. I won't look back to see her next reaction.

*

Back at home, I try to think. Who to trust... Who not too...

I still trust Leo. He only lies when he doesn't want me to worry about him. I trust Mia, but with Reindorf in her ears -

The thought doesn't fully form since my ringtone intrudes. The call is from the FBI agent.

Who to trust? Not him, I fear.

He says he has a mission for me on Thursday.

*

Today is Thursday. My new disguise launches today.

"Hello, Alexis."

Unlike the real one, my version of Alexis is plumb and alive. I don't know what is in this suit of skin, but it's hot inside. I handmake pores overnight and rehearse my lines - as terrible as they are.
They are not even the worst part of this arrangement - the worst part is that I'm going undercover with Mastro.

We haven't spoken since the explosion. Sick to my stomach about our imminent encounter, I await shipping. The ship is late. I don't acknowledge greetings from other borders, though my instinct to do so kicks.

"Miss Adiantes," a waiter enters my cabinet. I frown as she informs me my brother has arrived.

Staggering to the pool area, my heart pounds. I make eye contact with the FBI agent first, and then he wheels Mastro to me.

"You good, kid?"

"Yes," I croak. Mastro stares up at me, amused.

"This is simple. You are here to offer an apology and start a new deal. My men are in guard. Five of them will join you and make sure this fella -" He slaps Mastro's shoulder. "Doesn't do anything dumb. Copy that?"

"She pastes it." Mastro jests.

I glower. "I'm not a she."

"Ahem." The agent hands me handcuffs, a body cam and other tools. Wheeling Mastro to where he is to sleep, I give his burnt parts a good ointment spread. He hums as though delighted, whereas I know what the agents think as they watch us.

How is this a good idea?!

We stay indoors until we receive our signal - a horn blown - and hop into the boat transporting us to another ship.

This new ship is named M.M., after the tattoos on the guards that usher us around. Eventually, Mastro inquires about their boss.

"He's waiting inside."

No, he's sniffing coke. Our interruption of his fun time makes him haughty, but a good look at Mastro turns that rage into humour. "Hell, you survived?!" The boss tilts her head towards me. "You too?! Fuck, you're looking good too -"

"We are here to apologise."

There's a pause.

"Apologise?" The boss laughs. "You got the wrong man then."

"Are you not the boss of those who blew my home?" A gritty sound laces Mastro's tone.

As if to urge it, the coked boss squints. "You blew us first."

"It was a misunderstanding -"

"There was no misunderstanding, Mr. Mastro Adiantes. You said you had guns. We paid up, and you bloody scorched us when it was time to collect it. So we got even."

Mastro sighs. "I did that because a spy gave me false info."

"A spy? From us?"

"Yeltsins."

That draws a laugh from the boss. A long laugh. The wooden planks squeak from the ricochet of his weight."Now, why would you trust those morons? Haven't you heard what happened to Jawl?"

"Who?" Mastro looks at me to butt in.

"Leader of the 'dragons' cartel. The Yeltsins destroyed him after he tried cheating Igor in their truce deal." I make a cut-neck gesture.

"Igor Yeltsin. You are a fan, sweetheart?"

"No." I fold my arms.

"Are you aware of Yeltsin's upcoming project in Manchester?" Mastro inquires.

"My territory?" He lurches forward as if hit in the shins. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You'll be the next Jawl if you don't O.D first." Mastro snorts. "We'll give you intel, and you'll give us your products -"

Mr. Coke's head shakes. "I want more. Bodies."

"Bodies?" I frown.

"You heard me, sweetheart." He springs to his feet.

*
^
*

We follow him out and into a cold store. Though the freezers have been shut down, everyone shivers. Mr. Coke draws the plastic covers aside for us to view two boys measuring and filling bags of cocaine into a dead woman's chest.

I almost gag. Almost.

Mastro is observant enough to say there is no need to show us this. "We understand. How many bodies will you need?"

"My boys will send you the list. We expect specific body types since we haven't gotten the technology." Then the boss smiles at me. "One of Jawls' hitmen, an... Albert was adept at preserving parts with cheaper stuff. Cleaning materials, even. If only he hadn't taken his knowledge to the grave with himself."

Suddenly, my memory of Leo's father stikes. I have to bite my nail to keep calm. Mastro side-eyes me, telling the Coke boss we will get him the bodies. They handshake on that.

*
^
*
□

Returning to my life is a whiplash. Remnants of my disgust follow me to an empty mansion.

My frown deepens as I realise Harry isn't home.

"He said he was attending a birthday party."

"Oh, ok. Did he send you an address?"

My bodyguard nods, handing me his phone. I glare.

It's at the Yeltsins' mansion. Why would he go there? Who's birthday? - Oh!

Mia and I used to visit her mother's grave around this month; it's her mother's birthday.

I drive to the Yeltsin mansion. It's only when I find Mia at the front step that my heart calms.

Reindorf comes behind her, though.

"Charlie!" He gasps. "You are here!"

I smile. Not this very grown man sounding like a child. Is he tipsy?

This is the last I would want to be if inebriated. Talk of the devil's nest.

It doesn't help that the whole house is in jubilee. I thread carefully, sitting in the living room as Mia says, "Urm, so..."

"Where's Harry?"

"He's... we- we have an event coming up to launch the project, and we will be singing, so he's just gone with the event planner. He'll probably be back for the party this evening."

"What project?"

"The one I did the presentation on?" She sounds a little offended that I have forgotten.

I ask, "So they postponed the elections... but they still want to continue the project? What about the dead board -"

"It's not like their absence affects the project as much as the elections. They would have been the ones voting, but with the project, it's more of a-a 'who gets the contract' kind of thing."

"I don't get it. It's still a competition, like between you and Anton?"

Mia nods. I squint. Before I can think further, though, Cynthia struts in, chirping about the party.

I am tempted to join the conversation. After all, the look Cynthia gives me isn't hostile.

"Charlie, hi."

"Hello, Cynthia."

"How's urm... modelling, or have you quit now that you are a millionaire."

I laugh nervously. "No, and no - I'm not a millionaire."

"The car you gifted your friend begs to differ." She turns to Mia while adding. "Must be stressful, though. Having to root for Pamela and all."

"I'm not rooting for Pamela." I sigh for the umpteenth time. Mia shrugs to her friend as if it's no use nearing this topic.

*

Before I know it, they are all gone. Everyone is outside, and the party is in session. I passed out on the sofa. So much for taking caution in the devil's nest.

Silence makes the brain work fast, though. I ponder on the project Mia will be working on, then on my meeting with the other cartel and even with Pamela and -

Wait a minute. The project is happening in Manchester... it's a washing machine for the Yeltsins - that is, if it doesn't become a Bloodbath ... which it might. Oh, Lord -

I jump up. Looking through the window, I find Harry chatting lively with Mia's aunt. I don't like how close they look, but one thing at a time.

Averting my gaze helps me realise Mia's nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, something urges me to search for her. I step outside and bypass any and every conversation. My eyes adjust to the harsh cold, which grows worse the farther I go.

I near the gardens. Nearer. Nearer until I can hear a growl.

Then I see it, Mia standing before a bear. Her body freezes in what is likely fear, but her eyes hold a strange glint if acceptance ... and shame. Like I felt on the ship.

The bear suddenly moves forward.

"Mia, come back."

It's closing the gap.

"Mia! -"

"I want a divorce."