Chapter 6: Kissed by a Strong Desire

[Juliette’s POV]

Papa? I called out to the silhouette. I know it’s my father. 

But he didn’t respond. He just stood there. 

I reached out a hand to grab something so I could haul myself over to him, but my fist was empty. My feet were working hard to get me to him, but no matter how hard I ran, I couldn’t seem to reach him. Papa! I yelled desperately. But there was only silence. 

Do it for me, Juliette… Honour my promise to the Virtus. Papa’s voice filled my head.

Papa! I cried out to him, watching helplessly as his kind smile melted into the evil grin of a gargoyle. I jerked back with disgust and the devil’s face swirled into a cloud of vivid colours. I panicked and screamed, Papa! Wait, don’t go! What’s the truth? You didn’t owe Ralph Virtus anything, did you? 

Help me, Juliette…His pleading voice faded as the vibrant colours morphed into a giant ball of crystal white light that consumed me….

I pushed my lids open. A vast creamy ceiling greeted me. Realising that I was lying down, I jolted up and found that I was actually in bed, Alaskan King size. I blinked at the posh surroundings, finding it familiar. 

Papa’s hotel? I shook my head and looked hard again. Yes, this is the LUX Hotel—I had looked into the new decor with Papa last year so I remembered. 

Wait, wasn’t I in the truck? The mafia announced a change of plans…. Is this the hotel that we’re staying tonight? But how did I get from there to here? 

I swallowed and a scratchy feeling in my throat distracted me. There was a glass of water on the bedside table so I grabbed it and emptied it hungrily. When I was done, I turned back to the room and surveyed it cautiously. “Papa?” I called out softly, half believing that everything that had happened so far was a nightmare. 

Silence answered me. 

I threw the covers aside and found myself in a flimsy black nightie. Is this supposed to be sleepwear or an undergarment? Aghast, I grabbed a bathrobe and quietly made my way to the exit. 

Coming out of the bedroom, I realised that I was actually in the president suite, and this is its living area. My eyes sailed across the lavish furnishing—the cabinets, the full length window that framed the night sky, the cream velvet couch, a man lounging on it—. 

Hmm? Who’s that? My brows knitted in curiosity. I moved closer to the middle of the room to take a better look.

It was the mafia. I shifted closer, expecting a response, but he remained still. And his eyes were closed. 

Is he dead? I asked myself, and his light breathing answered me. A smile touched my lips, and I quietly sat beside him. 

This was the first time I saw him in a relaxed state. His head was in a comfortable tilt resting on his left shoulder, loose curls were falling over his forehead making him more alluring. I trailed my gaze along the contour of that arrogant nose… the tantalizing lips… the masculine jaw… . 

I drew in a deep breath to control the pounding in my chest. It was his bronze complexion that made him as mysteriously beautiful as an exotic prince. 

Absently, my gaze fell on the deep V of his white shirt, and I caught a glimpse of that powerful chest now heaving in a tranquil rhythm. I swallowed as I imagined running my hand across that tight, warm skin…. Blood? I stared in surprise at the dark red patch around his left sleeve. 

He must have gotten that when saving me, I reflected remorsefully. I reached out a hand to check it—.

CLICK! A swift movement disturbed the air and flickered my lashes. As I blinked repeatedly to clear the invisible dust, something cool and metallic poked the side of my head. My eyes widened with shock, my heart froze. I looked like I was about to drop something into the bin—arm stretched halfway, hand hovering midair. 

“Juliette?” The Mafia King stared at me, equally nonplussed. Then in the blink of an eye, he removed the gun from my head.

The second the weapon left my skin, I sank in relief, taking in large gulps of air to calm the abrupt rush of adrenaline. Mafias do sleep with their guns! My mind exclaimed as I swallowed hard to force my breathing to steady.

“Jesus, Juliette!” He groaned, rubbing his face in exasperation. “ Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“You’re the one with a gun, crazy! I was only trying to check your wound!” I cried defensively and pointed at the dark red patch. 

His face jerked up, and those confused brown eyes searched my face. 

I cleared my throat awkwardly and said in a gentler tone, “You need to clean it.” 

Why are you acting nice all of sudden? His knitted brows asked. 

I coughed a smile at my lap and returned to him. “I’m actually a nice person once you get to know me—.” 

His right brow raised in a genuine surprise while my eyes widened in mortification. 

I winced away as embarrassment scorched my cheeks. What the hell was I saying! 

His chuckles caught my ears and a surge of defiance made me look back, only to find him in another one of his charming grins. My mouth went dry, and I blushed harder. 

“Y-you should take a shower first so we can take care of that,” I muttered to distract him and pointed my chin at the bloodied sleeve. 

He chuckled harder, flashing those white pearlies at me and my poor heart, then he straightened and glanced at the table. “Eat that while I shower,” he ordered and then stood up. 

I glimpsed at the two sandwiches on the table and then turned back to the sight of his hulkish back moving towards the bedroom, where the bathroom was located. Without stopping, he instructed in a firm but nicer tone, “And don’t open the door to anyone.”

“What if I ask for room service?” I asked. 

He halted and spun around with a fierce frown. “NO ONE comes through that door,” he said, pointing at the main entrance, “until I’m back. Got that?” 

“Alright, alright,” I murmured with annoyance then rolled my eyes at the shut door. 

*****

Minutes after I finished the last bite of sandwich, he came through the same door in a casual black T-shirt and sweatpants, all freshened up and looking more handsome and three times more dangerous. 

My eyes followed him as he walked towards me, ruffling his damp hair to loosen the strands and then brushing the longer curls to the back.

He sat beside me, noted the empty wrappers on the table and smiled. “How are the sandwiches?” 

I blinked to snap out of the trance and glanced at the table, then reached for the first aid box. “Not bad,” I murmured. Inside, I was struggling to ignore the enticing smell of the shower gel coming from him. We used the same shower gel, Juliette, so stop fantasising over it! 

When I turned back, he was frowning at me in disapproval. 

What did I do wrong now? I retorted with a quizzical frown.

He scoffed, grumbled something inaudible under his breath, and then muttered “Nothing" and rolled up his left sleeve.

 I peered closer at the wound and murmured as though I was talking to myself, “It’s quite a cut." Then, I leaned back and carefully tapped the damp end of the cotton bud along the edge of the slit skin. 

His muscles flickered each time the bud touched his skin, but his face showed nothing. 

“Don’t you feel any pain?” I blurted. 

He gave a tiny smile. “How do you know Mickey?” 

“Boy, you really cut to the chase,” I mumbled. “He’s Papa’s busi—I mean, friend.” I almost started an informative conversation about Lux Corp, which I wanted to avoid having at all costs. 

I won't betray my family. Even though he owns our family business now, I’m not obligated to share what I know. Since he’s so smart, he can figure it out on his own. 

“So you’re saying you don’t know Mickey.” There was an underlying scepticism in his tone. 

Irritation rose steadily in me. I hate to fail so I was feeling terrible and embarrassed by the whole Mickey thing, and he seemed to be rubbing it in my face. 

“Yes, I don't know him,” I said curtly to hint for a change of subject.

“Then why did you go to him?” 

Frustration overtook me, and I blurted angrily, “Because he’s the only one I know who has enough money to buy the ring!” My eyes enlarged in astonishment at my own admission. 

Immediately, the fierce gaze was back. “You were trying to sell your wedding ring?” 

“Look—-I told you what happened to Papa. I needed money for that!” 

“You could’ve come to me!” He argued. 

“You're a Virtus!” I retorted. 

“I’m your husband!” He shouted back, his shoulders heaving with vexation. 

My own chest rose and fell with mixed feelings. The reminder threw me off. I almost forgot that I’m married now. This man here is my husband—the one who’s supposed to go through thick and thin with me. Yet, I felt reassured at the same time, knowing that he is my husband. 

At this, a tingling sensation filled my stomach and swarmed all over me. I swallowed to uselessly extinguish the ball of fire in my chest  and resumed smearing antiseptic over the cut on his upper arm. 

For a long while, I searched frantically for something to continue the conversation because I didn’t want it to end, but nothing felt right to say. The longer the silence, the warmer I felt until the tension became stifling. 

Then, a jagged line on his lower arm caught my eye—it looked like an old scar. “What’s that?” I blurted.

He exhaled and said softly, “It’s nothing.” But I detected a story in the tone of his voice. 

I followed the long scar with my eyes and whispered distantly, "Your arm must’ve been sliced open." A hint of sympathy seeped into my voice. "How did you get it?” I looked up at him.  

As soon as the question was out, I felt silly. He’s a mafia, Juliette, I lectured my own logic. How do you suppose he got that scar? 

I dropped my chin to dismiss my own stupidity then returned to the first aid box. “Forget it. It’s in the past anyway.” 

I was taking the bandage out when he said, “Sword fight. My brother.” 

I gaped at him with an incredulous look. “You’re shitting me. Real swords? Don’t you guys have guns?” I rolled the bandage around the latest wound. 

“We use pretty much everything. Knives, poisonous needles, grenades—.” He paused at my deadpan face and then flashed a mischievous grin. Before I returned to the deed, he lowered his voice and said, “From now on, don’t go anywhere alone, Juliette.”

The tenderness was like a caress on my cheek. The concerned shimmer in his eyes moved something inside me until a tiny voice in my head reminded, he's being nice because he wants something from me. Remember, it advised, he’s a thief. 

I turned back to the first aid box and fetched a clip to tighten the bandage. “I’ll be fine,” I said. 

“Will you?" He sounded annoyed again. "You walked right into the drug king’s trap today.” 

I snapped the clip on the bandage and glared at him. “If I knew that he’s a drug king, I wouldn’t consider him, would I? Are you saying that I’m dumb?” 

“I’m just saying that you need protection,” he growled impatiently. 

“Well, you’re the one I need protection from!” I snapped back at him. 

He straightened his back as his eyes deepened with rage. “Oh really? Because I’m a Virtus? You’re still going with that? I just said that I'm your—.” 

I lunged forward and crashed my lips onto his, and kissed him hard.