ELEVEN
The elevator door opens, and Arlo is the first one to step outside.
“Are you sure we can use it?”
I ask, carefully falling into step next to him, though it looks like I’m walking on eggshells. With him standing so closely to me, he looks like a giant. My head barely reaches his shoulders, so it’s no wonder all of his clothes are gigantic on me.
“Of course,”
he nodded. “The building is mine.”
I roll my eyes. “I should’ve known you’re richy rich.”
“You didn’t think I was killing people for pennies and dimes, did you?”
“Well, no,”
I drawl out. “But it’s not like I actually thought about how much an assassin would cost.”
Arlo looks at me, flashing me his grin, the diamond on his tooth shining. “Don’t worry, I’ll kill people for you free of charge.”
“Thank you so much,”
I exclaim, sarcasm coating my tongue. “I now have everything I ever wanted in life: an assassin at my disposal.”
“You’re welcome.”
Arlo’s idea of preparing me for the upcoming issues we’ll be facing is to simply train me. I took self-defense classes back in Long Grove, but given the nature of Arlo’s job, I have no doubt that he’s way better.
Somehow, during the night while I was fast asleep, Arlo dropped by Wren’s apartment, grabbed Arson and some of my clothes. When I saw Arson again, I squealed in happiness. But the orange ball of fur was less than pleased to be kissed and snuggled.
There are a lot of shiny things in Arlo’s home for Arson to play with, to break. She’s excited and doesn’t acknowledge me. Instead, she purrs, going to Arlo for anything she needs. The little traitor replaced me.
What the hell is so special about him?
I shake off the thoughts, trying to catch up with his long strides. He notices it, halts, and waits until I’m next to him again, then matches his pace to mine. The rest of the building is silent, which shouldn’t surprise me since he said he owns it.
He would earn a fortune if he rented other apartments.
The longer I spend time with Arlo, the less scared I am. Well, I’m scared, but not of him. The way he speaks, listens, and acts around me is sincere. A part of me wants to believe that he has no ulterior motives, and for the time being, I’ll trust that small part. He’s yet to do something to endanger me.
Arlo’s very serious about teaching me everything he knows. Once I was dressed in some casual gym clothes, we left his apartment. The gym of the building is in the basement. Half of it holds one of the biggest pools I’ve ever seen, the other side being the actual gym. It has everything – from different weights to multiple treadmills and punching bags to a small boxing ring.
Arlo’s carrying the gym bag, filled with water and some towels for both of us, and some of the things I couldn’t see while he was packing. It looks heavy, and he didn’t even let me get the chance to offer to carry it.
In his words, it’s offensive to even think he’d let me carry it.
“Hop in,”
Arlo tosses the bag on a maroon bench, then motions with his head toward the boxing ring. “We’ll start there.”
I take a deep breath, bracing myself for what’s to come, and get with him into the ring.
“I need to see how much you’ve learned at your self-defense classes.”
A frown appears on my face. “How do you actually know about that?”
Arlo lifts a shoulder. “I know everything about you.”
“By stalking me?”
“I prefer the term observing. It’s less creepy.”
“Uh-uh,”
I cross my arms in front of my face, watching while he struggles to keep a smile off his face.
He grips the neckline of his thick, dark hoodie and pulls it over his head, tossing it out the ring. The light above us falls directly onto his face, and yet again, I find myself enthralled by this man. Curious, even.
His beauty is undeniable. It’s not the type to be on the magazine covers – it’s much more than that. He’s the type of handsome to have every person’s head turn wherever he goes, the type to shine as brightly as the sun.
And when he smiles? Air leaves my lungs. He’s able to get my frozen heart beating again, and I’m not sure if it’s a good or a bad thing.
I don’t even want to think about the way the compression shirt looks on him. Every single muscle, every single curve of his upper body, is outlined under the material, hugging him like a second skin. Dark ink decorates his arms, and I don’t think there’s even an inch of his flesh that isn’t tattooed.
“Firstly, this will include a lot of physical contact. Are you alright?”
Momentarily, I freeze. Then, I blink and realize what he means. I don’t hesitate, for the first time, when nodding.
“Alright,”
I offer a small smile. “Thank you for asking.”
“Never thank me for that, Blair.”
I frown.
Sure, my childhood was a fucking mess, and I had no one to teach me basic manners, but I managed to pick up on a lot of things, especially during my time in prison and later when I was in Long Grove. Wasn’t it common courtesy to say thank you after someone did something nice or was being considerate of you?
His eyes pierce into mine, sucking me into their depth. For a while, all I can do is stare, allowing him to swallow me whole. Inside of that space – it’s peaceful. Calm, quiet, and with no turmoil. My heart skips a beat.
With a sigh, I shake my head. There’s no point in arguing with him, letting him get the last word in. We have a lot more pressing matters to deal with.
Arlo mentioned having his parents involved in this. Of course, it’s not something the two of us can do alone, and it won’t be done overnight, which is why I understand him needing their input and help.
Arlo De Santis is the first man to ever intrigue me.
When he told me about his family being in the whole assassin business for generations, I wanted to know the story. I never expected him to be a killer. The sweet, soft doctor who snuck in candy and chocolate for me. Given how highly he speaks of his parents, they’re probably good people.
When did my morals get so fucked up?
Arlo admitted to killing people for money, alongside his parents, and here I am, thinking of them as good people.
Did I ever have any morals to begin with? Or is my interpretation of morals to the point my view is entirely tarnished?
“Where did your mind go?”
Arlo’s words bring me back to Earth. What shakes me to my core is the proximity I find myself in. Only a couple of inches separate us, a look of worry on his face. Even his sharp eyes soften when he notices I’m back.
“Oh, sorry,”
I mumble. “I just got curious.”
“Stop apologizing,”
he says. “Curious about what?”
“Your family.”
His brows shoot up in surprise, and he takes a small step back, giving me some space. “Let’s talk about it over dinner. For now, let’s start.”
Accidentally, I pulled both black hair ties off my wrist. I always carry two, just because somehow, I manage to lose them more than I buy them. I’d lost count of how many I’d lost; they always seem to vanish into thin air.
“Hold this for me.”
I hand him one tie, then pull my hair up into a high ponytail.
Arlo puts the second tie around his wrist, pulls on it, and it snaps back on his pale skin, creating a small red line. He’s staring at the tie around his wrist, his cheeks dusted with a light pink shade.
“Are you blushing?”
Arlo clears his throat, the shade darkening. “Absolutely not.”
A loud laugh bursts through my lips, and no matter how much I try to swallow it down, it’s unsuccessful. He rolls his eyes, muttering something under his breath, the blush still very much visible on his cheeks.
“Shut up,”
he grunts, then gets into the position.
For the next two hours, I showed him everything I learned. He instructed me on how to properly stand, how to calm myself down if I were to get attacked from behind, how to free myself from someone bigger than me, and how to throw a proper punch.
He had to touch me quite a few times.
It’s a miracle.
A man’s touch didn’t make me want to vomit my guts out; it didn’t make me feel dirty – it didn’t make me feel less.
If I learned anything from this, it’s that Arlo is here to stay. He’s made it quite obvious, time and time again, that no matter what I do, he’s not leaving me alone. It should terrify me; it should make me return to my little, pathetic shell.
It doesn’t.
If anything, it makes me want to see him stay.
He’d be the first person to do that.
Arlo cooks for me again.
I offered to help, but he brushed me off and told me to take a shower to relax while he prepared everything. Instead of arguing, I listened and allowed myself to unwind under the steaming shower, my muscles soothing and my entire body resting.
Once I reach the bottom of the stairs, with a towel wrapped around my head. My stomach growls loudly, and my mouth waters as a delicious scent fills my nose. I’m quick to reach the kitchen, noticing the little traitor, Arson, sitting patiently by Arlo’s feet.
“Are those hamburgers?”
I ask. “Homemade, at that?”
Arlo’s smile is bright enough to light up even the darkest rooms. “You said you craved them, so I made some.”
He doesn’t even finish the sentence entirely before I run toward the nearest chair, nearly tripping over my feet in the process, and grabbing one. I devour it in record time, the entire concept of table manners flying out of the window.
It’s gone in a blink of an eye.
So much that Arlo looks at me in utter disbelief.
“Would you like another one?”
“Yes, please.”
He laughs softly, pushing another plate with the burger in front of me. My eyes close as I eat, savoring the taste. It’s so good. I don’t remember the last time I had such a good hamburger; it’s definitely something I’ll force him to make more for me.
“Aren’t you going to eat?”
He shakes his head in amusement. “Not hungry.”
I shrug. “More for me.”
He waits until I’m done with my food. I drink the ice-cold water, leaning back into the chair. I sigh in contentment, my stomach stuffed and happy.
“What exactly were you curious about my family?”
I look at him, and he’s leaning on the counter across from me.
“I’ve never heard of anyone related to an assassin, and the fact that it’s been in your family for so long made me very curious.”
“It’s a long story and not fun. Are you sure you want to be bored to death?”
I snort. “Yeah, go ahead.”
Arlo goes on to explain that the family rivalry between the De Santis and Campbell families has been going on for generations and that they were always killing members of the other families. He’s not sure how it exactly began because he didn’t pay attention to the story when it was being told, but he knows that there was a trigger.
His uncle on his father’s side killed someone related to his mother, and in retaliation, his mother killed his uncle. Then, his father and his mother started threatening each other, going as far as to sabotage and stab one another.
“If you find this story boring, I’d hate to know what you find interesting,”
I breathe out in disbelief.
Arlo chuckles. “There’s more.”
“There’s more?!”
“Their families had a terrible reaction to their sudden announcement that they were together. So, Mom and Dad run off for a while, spending time at the sea, away from the drama. Meanwhile, my grandfathers were constantly beating the shit out of each other.”
I laugh.
“Ah, I should’ve expected that one.”
He chuckles.
“Despite all of that, though, your parents must truly love each other to go to such lengths.”
Arlo smiles warmly. “They do. They’re amazing.”
“I wonder what it’s like to have loving parents,”
I say, then realize I allowed inner thoughts to surface.
“Your parents were shit,”
Arlo says, teeth clenched. “They deserved what you did to them and so much worse. But don’t think, not even for a second, that any of that was your fault, Blair. Nothing was your fault. They failed you, not the other way around.”
I sniffle, words barely escaping my lips.
“How much do you know about my involvement with Paul Simmons?”
He swallows harshly. For the first time I’ve seen him, he has this rage on his face. As if it’s something he’s been holding back, hiding it from the rest of the world. His eyes have a darkened gleam, piercing through me.
And it doesn’t scare me.
It brings me a sense of comfort I’m unfamiliar with, but it’s not unwelcome.
“Just what you told in court.”
I nod, trying to calm my nerves by breathing in and out deeply. Tears pool out of the corners of my eyes, and I don’t stop them, letting them stream down my cheeks.
“If I told you, would you listen?”
“Always.”