Michael's POV

"You brought this upon yourself." I laugh, lying down on the bed as I watch her pack.

"Perhaps if you stopped distracting me, I would've been farther along..." she says rolling her eyes. I smirk as I watch her bend over her suitcase. "And you're not helping..."
she says as I stare at her backside.

She stands up and turns around as I quickly move my eyes up to hers. I blink innocently.

"What was that?" I ask as she snorts and throws a pillow at me.

I watch as she grabs some skirts and casual day dresses, since the outfits she wears for concerts on the BAD Tour are already in the dressing rooms.

"Aye, what time do we have to be at your parent's house?" I call out.

"Around eight would be good." Tatiana throws the skirts and dresses on the floor next to her empty luggage.

I turn my head to look at the alarm clock sitting on the nightstand. 7:15.

"I feel like I won't be able to pack enough." she says gripping a fistful of her hair, looking around at the clothes on the floor. "I mean, we are gonna be gone for four months with no breaks." She stands in front of the shoe section of the walk in closet, crossing her arms as she decides which pairs of heels she is going to take.

Knowing her, all of them.

"You can always go shopping on tour." I chuckle.

She sighs and shakes her head. "It's not that easy anymore."

I study her as she picks out the basic colors, a pair of black and a pair of nude Louboutins first before going in for the other fun colors.

I smile gently before looking down. The little things she does, like picking out her clothes.....makes me think how I want those small moments with her in my life forever.

I look up at her watching them as she stepped out her closet and placing her armful of shoes on the floor. I chuckle shaking my head at all of her shoes.

Tati drops to her knees and begins to fold up all the clothes she has thrown on the floor before placing them neatly in her Louis Vuitton luggage.

"Are you finished?" I ask.

"No, there's still more to pack."

"You want me to help?"

"Sure." she shrugs, folding a blouse and placing it in the bottom of her luggage.

I get myself off the bed. I look over at the vanity where she did her makeup and places her perfume collection. There were drawers underneath as well.

I open up one of the drawers and my eyes immediately widened, trying to be mature and not crack up.

Bras.

I hold one of them up by strap, a red velvet bra with black lace on it. "I hope you plan on bringing this with you." I say, catching her attention.

Her face immediately grew red in embarrassment. "Michael!" she hisses, getting up off her knees and speeding over to me.

"You said you needed help!" I exclaim and defends myself, watching her snatch the bra out of my hand before whacking me with it. "Oh, you're gonna hit me with your bras now?"

"Shut up." she says embarrassed, throwing it in her luggage.

"So you're packing it?"

"You know better."

"Do I?"

"Ugh." She groans, going back to her folding.

An awkward silence fills the air.

"So..." I cooes, a smile playing a roll on my lips, "32 C's, huh?"

"Are you fucking serious right now?" she snaps, making me throw my head back laughing.

"You're mad, huh?"

"No, I'm embarrassed." she looks down, folding her clothes.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about; it's nothing I haven't seen before." I remind, making my mind lead to all our sexual encounters in the past. "I'm just messing with you."

"I know." She mumbles softly. "And it's nothing you will see for a long... long time."

"Come again?" I reply, my eyes widening.

"Oh, you heard me." She walks into the bathroom packing her jewelry.

Meanwhile I stay in deep thought. Not about me not being able to make love to her but if I ever do... I have to be naked... Which required revealing my scars, from my suicide attempt. All of them.

I didn't want to do that. I still don't want her to know anything about it.

But I have to face reality. Sex or not, she's going to find out eventually. Sooner or later.

Either the scars, or the letter—

Oh shit.

Where the fuck is the letter?

I inwardly panicked.

I don't remember getting rid of it.

I roll up the sleeve of my button up shirt just enough to reveal the scars one of my wrists.

Can they just go away already?

She's definitely going to see this sooner or later. These scars were ruining my life.

And I can't just tell her like it was nothing. "Oh, by the way, I tried to kill myself a month ago. But it's all good now."

No. Just no.

I attempt to put my mind past it and just focus on my girl instead of my scars. I'm here with her now and so all my attention should be hers.

I walk over to the bathroom to find her, and when I do I wrap my arms around her waist from behind.

I rest my chin on her shoulder and I look up at her through the mirror in front of us.

"You almost ready, baby?" I ask softly.

"Yeah." she answers in the same tone of voice as mine, staring at me through the mirror. I stay quiet looking away from her eyes.

"What's on your mind?" she asks softly, in a comforting tone.

"Nothing." I reply suddenly, obviously snapping out of my trail of thoughts. "Nothing."

She doesn't buy it as she stares at me "You sure?"

"Positive." I assure. I kiss  her cheek softly, before walking out.

Paul's POV

I swallow hard staring him down as he stands at the doorway, giving a diabolical smile.  "It's good to see you're awake now." he says as I clench my jaw.

"So how is my son?" he asks warmly. 

"What does it look like?" I scoff. "You really deserve that father of the year award." I say sarcastically. 

"Or the asshole of the century..." 

He chuckles and takes a long slow drag, from the cigar in his fingers. "I had to put you to sleep kid, couldn't have you know where we are located." he shrugs. "But there is a reason why I brought you here."

I look away in disgust. "I have no interest in what you have to say." I mutter irritably.  

"Now is that a way to treat your father?" he innocently asks. "Especially after what I'll be doing for you?" he says waving his hand around, cigar in hand.

"What more can you possibly do?" I glare angrily. "I've been drunker than Billy Joel on New's Years and I've never felt as fucked as I do now."

"It was all to do what was and will be best for you." he says cocking an eyebrow. 

"What would've been best for me to never be born to a man like you." I answer coldly.

He glares at me, smoothing back his greasy black hair, with his free hand. Carefully and slowly he walks toward me as I lay in bed weakly, as I stare back at him. For a moment, the man smiled a proper smile, a happy smile, it flickered for a few seconds, then disappeared.

Jack has worked hard on his reputation to be feared. It's been said my father has had men slaughtered to build up his family empire. Anyone to disrespect, or was a small or undeniable threat to his disgusting legacy, has most likely expired.

"What did you just say?" he asks slowly.

"I wish I was never born to a son of a bi--"

In one quick motion Jack slaps me. I feel my head pound from the slap and the hangover . I close my eyes tightly in pain, letting out a low groan.

If I wasn't so fucked up, his ass would be on the floor.

"You listen to me you ungrateful, bastard." he growls lowly. "Don't you ever forget who I am." he hisses as I feel my jaw clench. 

"Someday...." he says glaring at me. "You are going to be taking over this family legacy." he looks away from me putting his cigar in my mouth.

I stay silent, my eyes away from him as I feel myself growing sick.

"I'll be gone for a couple of days, for business. When I get back--" he  takes another blow from his cigar. "There will be an explanation for why I brought you here."

I close my eyes painfully, as I slowly turn my head to face him. "I won't be here when you come back." I mumble.

"That's where you are wrong, boy." he chuckles. "You didn't think I would leave without having some precautions of you running away now, do you?" he grins as six men enter the room.

"Meet your new friends, Paul." he chuckles as I look over at them. My eyes trail over to their waist seeing they are loaded.

"If you think you can run--" he chuckles and shakes his head as he pulls a golden bullet out from his pocket tossing it on the bed, landing it on my chest.

I swallow hard as I look up at him, glaring. "I will never be a man like you." I say hoarsely.

"You don't have a choice." he says walking out, with the six men following behind him.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

Hello lovelies!

I'm sorry I've been slightly overdue with the update. I haven't updated because I was crazy busy during fashion week, mixed with the flu, and I tried to write an update whenever I had time.

Anyway, a couple of chapter ago I told you all that I was working on a new story. This story I am planning on doing a Prince fanfiction. Actually my mother gave me the idea when her and I were talking about him, and listening to his music. I was looking on wattpad and the internet for Prince Fanfics and there are barely any! Like seriously that sucks! Where all my "Purple Ones?!" So for the sake of wattpadkind, I will be doing a Prince fanfiction when I finish TWYMMF.

xoxoxo,

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