Stolen from the Hitman: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (11 page)

A
s I clean
up the remainder of takeout, I can feel Liv’s eyes following me the whole time, watching me move about the kitchen remarkably calmly for the exchange that had just transpired between us.

I know what’s on her mind. She wants to know more of what I’ve said about myself, and I know I’ve already said far too much. I should have just said I’m a well-connected man, or that I know the city very well. Neither of them would be complete lies, but I can read in those eyes of hers that half-truths would not escape her. She’s clever, and even after what she’s been through, she won’t accept a lie. But how can she accept the truth?

I’m a hitman. A trained killer. What transpired in Liv’s rescue came to me with ease. I’ve faced much greater odds with far less preparation and still come out with only a few scars. But that is not a life Liv needs to be exposed to. She is meant for so much more, and I will make sure she achieves it. I will protect her, and all the women the mafia thinks they can enslave for the sake of their greed. And I won’t let her be stolen from me again.

But in my silence, I can’t help but wonder how many of the blanks in my story she’s filling in herself, and with what. I remind myself that I shouldn’t be bothered by such things. I’m out to protect them and shut down the slave trade again, not worry about what my student thinks of me.

If things keep up the way they are, she may think far worse of me yet.

“I imagine you’re about ready for bed,” I say with a smile as I hear a long yawn come from the living room, and I hear her try to stifle it suddenly, embarrassed.

“It’s been a day,” she admits, weariness in her voice.

“I understand if your mind will be racing too much to get to sleep,” I say, stepping back into the living room and leaning against the wall, my arms crossed. “I have some sleep aids that might put your mind at ease, if you like.”

She shakes her head, a little bit of fright coming into her gaze, and I wonder if that’s how they got her, was drugging her. I’d assumed it had all started off cordial enough, but maybe it wasn’t. Maybe that asshole who sent her the email hadn’t even bothered trying to charm her, and instead just knocked her out.

“I don’t need it,” she says, her voice a bit tight, her shoulders tensed.

“Good to hear it. You can take my bed for the night,” I say, trying to keep things light as I gesture to the hallway. “It’s the last door on the right, and the sheets are clean. I tend to wash them a little obsessively,” I add, rubbing the back of my neck. “You grow up without a clean bed, and it makes you value fresh sheets.”

That makes Liv smile, a heartwarming sight after the frightened gaze just a second ago, and she nods, but looks down for a moment, hesitating. “Thanks. But…”

I raise an eyebrow. “Is something the matter? You can take the couch, if you prefer.”

“No that’s alright, I just...I know this is going to sound dumb, but being alone and in the dark so much today has me kind of on edge. I don’t know if I can — I mean, I’d feel better if—” she stammers, biting her lip before looking back up to me with those warm brown eyes, and my heart fills with pity, having forgotten what it’s like to be so small and vulnerable. “Do you think you could sleep in the same room with me?” she finally asks with a sheepish smile. “I know it’s childish, I just — I don’t want to wake up and forget I’m somewhere safe.”

I have to admit, she has a remarkable presence of mind for someone who’s just gone through the hell she has. I give her a reassuring smile and nod, moving from the wall and stepping towards the hallway as she rises to her feet and follows me. “Of course, Liv. You don’t need to feel ashamed about something like that. Come, I’ll show you in.”

I flick the lights on and illuminate the simple room I call my own. It’s a modest place with few furnishings: a platform bed with light gray sheets and a black comforter over it, a small nightstand with a lamp and a Kindle on it, and a closet bearing the simple, tight-fitting clothes I wear on a daily basis.

“This is really nice,” she says, and I give a laugh at the remark. “No, I mean it! I thought Maggie and I were tidy, and we’d only just moved in.”

“A simple upbringing gives you simple tastes,” I say, making my way over to the pillows and fluffing them a bit and smoothing the covers. I feel somewhat guilty for not being entirely honest with the room’s presentation, however. There are some things I don’t want even Liv to see. Not yet.

The room is not so much ‘simple’ as it is ‘subtle.’ Under the bed, there is a hidden compartment full of the weapons and other tools I used in my past life, the life that seems to be coming back to haunt me more with every passing hour. It weighs on me that I will be putting Liv to bed to sleep peacefully over a bed of the grisly weapons I used to take lives before even knowing her. But the poor girl has enough on her mind for now.

Briefly, I wonder if it would make her feel safer, or if it’d send her out on the streets, wondering what type of monster I really am. Then I have to wonder why I care so much. It’s not even just about her being my student, or my seeing potential in her. There’s something more, some way I’m drawn to her that I’ve never experienced before.

It’s been years since I’d even done so much as gone on a date with a woman, so maybe that’s why I don’t recognize these feelings. The desire to help her isn’t just motivated by pure intentions. There’s something deeper at work.

“Where are you going to sleep?” she asks, moving over to the bed and testing the sheets out thoughtfully, pulling them out and testing the mattress.

“I have some thick spare sheets in the closet — I’ll sleep on the floor beside you.”

“What?!” she says, suddenly looking more guilty than I feel. “You can’t-”

“Liv,” I stop her gently, holding up a hand, “if you knew what I was used to, you’d know that even a slightly springy hardwood floor would be comfortable by my standards. And I’m not the one who’s been through the trauma today. Take the bed,” I say, and the firmness of my voice puts to rest any debate over the matter. She does respond remarkably well to commands, and that sends a little jolt of excitement through me. I add with a smile, “Just try not to trip over me if you get up in the night.”

“Thanks, Monsieur Pavlenko.” I turn my back as she climbs into bed, stripping off her socks and getting comfortable under the sheets with the kind of deep sigh only very tired limbs can afford you.

“Liv, please,” I say as I pull the spare blankets from the closet, folding them into a makeshift bed on the floor, “call me Max. I think we’re well over that threshold.”

“That might take some getting used to,” she says, but there’s a lighthearted tone to her words, “but I think that suits you a little better. ‘Night, Max.”

“Sleep well, Liv,” I say, clicking the lamp on to give us dim light for the night before I hit the main light and darken the room. Heading into the bathroom with a pair of sleeping pants, I strip my clothes off and replace them with the pants, heading back out. I cast a quick glance over to Liv, her slow breaths making her chest rise and fall as she already starts to doze peacefully into sleep. I feel a small smile forming on my lips before I turn and lie down onto my temporary bed, turning over into a cocoon in my covers and closing my eyes.

* * *

A
small yelp
in the night wakes me up, and faster than my mind can react, I throw the covers off and spring to my feet, eyes adjusted to the dark and looking around my room as my fists ball, looking for whatever caused the disturbance — were we followed? Did someone track us here? Have I slept through an abduction?

But after a moment of silence, my gaze falls on the only other person in the room, Liv, who’s sitting up in bed with eyes wide open, recoiling from me in fear. Or rather, perhaps, recoiling from my reaction.

“Liv? Are you okay?” I ask, lowering my voice as I realize there’s no threat in the room with us but me. “I’m sorry if I startled you. My reflexes are...a little overzealous, it seems.”

“I’m sorry,” she breathes, still half-asleep, “I’m sorry, I... no, everything’s fine. I didn’t mean to wake you.” She takes a deep breath as she bunches up some of the blankets under her chin, laying her head down on the pillows again as she tries to calm her nerves. Frowning, I move over to the bed and sit beside her, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“You’re safe here, Liv,” I assure her, rubbing her arm slowly. “Trust me, I’m not a man to make such promises lightly.”

Her eyes turn to me, the lamplight catching in them and making them sparkle even in their exhaustion. There’s real trust in those eyes, even though we’ve only known each other for a short time, and I can feel her relaxing under my touch.

It’s a funny thing about out of the ordinary experiences. Someone can date someone else for years, get married, have a family, and yet never feel the same connection as someone who’s been through something as heinous as Liv and I were. Seeing someone at their worst, their absolute worst, and moving through it together is something not usually afforded to regular people, and for that I’m ever grateful.

But now, I know there’s a thread between Liv and I, something that won’t be easily broken.

“I’m sorry. I forgot you were here, and I felt so alone. God, I just keep thinking what they could be doing with Maggie. Max…” she says, and she seems hesitant to continue, closing her eyes before speaking more. “Would you... would you sleep in the bed with me?”

I’m taken aback by the question, but I don’t let it show, my touch on her arm still slow and smooth. But even I can’t deny that the request puts a warmth in my chest, a reassurance of how safe she feels with me. What’s really getting me, though, is the jolt of excitement my body feels, and that’s what makes me hesitate. She’s my student, and I need to crush these inappropriate feelings, not tease them to new heights.

“It’s okay if you don’t think that’s alright,” she backpedals at my momentary silence, opening her eyes, “I know it — it wouldn’t look appropriate. I just…I need to feel you close to me, Max,” she confesses in a near whisper, her cheeks burning red, and I give her shoulder a light squeeze.

I should not do this. Liv is my student. She’s 18. She’s under my protection. She’s put every ounce of her trust in me, and I’ve taken her out of the jaws of hell tonight, turning her heart inside out in the process.

And she needs me more than anything else right now. She needs to feel safe and protected, and what will make her feel safe and protected is to be held.

Without saying another word to worry her, I move around the side of the bed, slipping into the sheets and moving in close to Liv. I can feel the heat of her body radiating against mine, and she starts to move in closer to me instinctively, but she stops herself short, pulling the sheets tighter around herself and letting out a satisfied sigh.

“Thank you, Max,” she breathes in a nearly inaudible whisper.

“Anything, Liv,” my low intonation replies.

In a matter of minutes as we drift off into sleep together, I feel my mind start to descend into the twilight between waking and sleeping, but all that keeps me over the precipice is the thought of Liv beside me.

Were anyone to know of what I was doing here, we could both be dismissed from the university. But all that feels so far away from us now. This place feels like a sanctuary, a quiet pause amidst this storm suddenly brewing around our lives, and somehow, I realize why Liv wanted me to be near her, and I share the same desire.

Whether Liv is awake or not, I do not know, but I feel her body moving in closer to mine. First her shoulder touches my chest, and there’s a pause, as if she or her body wonders whether she should stay or roll away. But a moment later, I feel her back press into me, her narrow, lithe frame curling against mine so naturally. She cuddles into my chest, and I hear a soft sigh from her, though her face is away from me.

Her body seems to pause there for some time. Perhaps she’s feeling my heartbeat against her back, or maybe she’s questioning herself again, wondering whether she deserves the comfort she’s seeking.

I realize my heart is swelling for her. She deserves so much better than she allows herself, and I want her to feel that, but I feel the restraints of my relationship to her as an instructor chafing me as I think on her. There’s so many reasons why I tried to erect that barrier between us, and now, in the twilight hours, her pure beauty is breaking them down.

She truly does deserve such human reassurance as she craves. She’s not like me, not like the monster I keep housed in my heart and fists. She deserves only goodness and love. But can I be the one to give that to her?

Gently, I slip my arm around her, my thick forearm and bicep draping over her like a blanket in itself. As if acting on instinct, I feel her move back further, and she moves her rear back against me, not quite pressing into my pelvis, but melding into my body for warmth and comfort, all of her touching me. I stroke her arm with my hand as my heart pounds in my chest, and it only seems to encourage her as she snuggles in tighter to me until we’re so very close to each other.