After everything he's done to hurt me, now he's worried about me?  After rejecting and abandoning me without any shred of thought regarding my pain and suffering as a result? The more I think about it, the more my heart bleeds and the ache suffocates me terribly.

But he's right here, holding me.

His hands around my body feel like a shield and precipice at the same time. A part of me—a very huge part of me—is in dire need to submit to him and let myself loose in his hold. The rest of me, however—maybe the smartest part of me—wants to remind him of the bitter woman I've become and pull away from him with a wide range of insults.

The conflict is still raw in my head even as I reply, "Well, too bad we won't find out about that any time soon. Maybe some other time when something bad happens to me," in a normal time of voice filled with sarcasm.

Adrian doesn't respond, but his muscles flex and he grabs me evenly by the stomach; I'm still embraced by him from behind. I don't stay still for another minute, however, for my body willingly pivots itself to face him and sooner I find myself staring at him deeply in the eyes.

"What the fuck do you want, Adrian?" I quiz, genuinely curious, all the games we play aside. "Because you lost the right to touch me a long time ago, in case you've mildly forgotten. You don't have the responsibility to worry about me so why are you doing this?"

Even though Adrian's eyes validate my statement, that truly has no right or obligation to be here, he still refuses to free my body that's bound to him so closely right now that I can feel his every breath tangling mine.

"I wanted to make sure you are alright." His voice sounds hoarse, his words poured like honey—sweet and slow. "Are you okay, Arabella?" he asks with sheer concern, the same sexy blazing eyes staring intensely at me like a caring father to her precious daughter.

Except he's not my father. He's just the man I love and hate at the same time.

The pace of my heartbeat quickens and I feel trapped both physically and emotionally. I'm still a little shaken by what happened. Even though it's over and nothing happened tonight, something tells me that it's not the end. It's only the beginning of many unpleasant incidents.

To distance Adrian from the truth and hidden fear that I cannot allow myself to indulge, I lift my hand and reach for his left cheek, not missing so much as a blink of his gorgeous eyes that make me dream awake about everything beautiful we have once shared.

At the brush of my fingers, Adrian's eyelids shut for a second, and I can say he resembles an average man who's not immune to his lover's touch. He resembles a man in love and God knows how I want it to be that way. I wish he would be that man who's less afraid of danger than losing me.

"I'm okay. I can take care of myself, Adrian. I don't need you for that matter," I whisper aver gently, my face so close to his lips we could touch.

"I don't doubt, Arabella," he articulates. His gaze shifts southward toward the hand that's holding the gun I stole from him as he adds, "But do you know how to use it?"

I glance down briefly and snap, "Well enough! I know how the safety works and how fucking relentless the trigger is." I try to pull myself out of his arms but he fluidly holds me back with more restraint.

My breath catches and I can hear how fickle his heartbeat turns when I crush my boobs straight into his solid chest.

"And where to shoot?" he snaps back, gripping the wrist of my gun-holding hand toward his chest, his voice stern yet vivacious. "How fast can you shoot, Arabella?" He presses the muzzle right against his heart.

I blink twice, wordless.

Strong breaths emit through his nose and my body begins to tremble.

"It all matters, Arabella. One wrong shot and one second lost could be the death of you... that's how dangerous my world can get," he adds, staring me deeply in the eyes.

I pant heavily, but no ward manages to slip out of my parted lips. I'm both enchanted and dismayed by this moment. I don't know if I'm scared or thrilled by the urge to understand the perils surrounding his world.

"I have to train you," Adrian tells me at last and my eyes widen at him in a startled manner. "If this life, despite the danger you've sniffed so far, is what you want then I cannot keep letting you live it unprepared. You'll always be mine to protect... in one way or another so maybe I ought to do something worthwhile about it."

Wait, what?

Training?

I didn't see this coming.

"You..." I stutter, a bit confused. I swallow a bile in my throat and glare at him tentatively this time. "You want to train me? Like how to shoot and stuff?"

"To disarm, to cripple, to kill. Self-defense at the very least." He sounds deadly serious. I inhale sharply, astounded. "You never know the enemy's intention so it's best to be ready for anything."

I consider his words for only a second before I reply with a "When can we start?"

I can't wait.

Before Adrian could respond, his phone buzzes and the spell breaks as soon as he frees my hand and body altogether.

"Mario," he snaps into the phone, but his eyes are still trained on me, who's just lingering next to him, studying him. He nods and hums a few 'ok' and 'good' before he adds, "Drive them to my place; I'll meet you there."

I don't gather much of what they discuss but I'm sure he's talking about Camilla and Isla.

"They're going to your place?" I'm not sure what to think of it yet.

Adrian nods while shoving his phone back into the inside pocket of his jacket. "It's not safe here until we establish a new security detail. It'll take a few days so go and pack lightly. We're leaving too."

"But—"

"It's not a request or an argument, Arabella," Adrian interrupts while marching toward the half-open window to probably shut it. "Hurry up."

I scoff, annoyed by his assumption. "I wasn't going to argue!"

He looks back at me, a small frown of curiosity marked on his forehead, but he doesn't respond verbally.

"I just wanted to ask you to come with me," I confess in a low voice, flushed from embarrassment. It dawns on me that whoever intruded has been upstairs and I have no idea why. Back to Adrian I bite my bottom lip and say, "What if she planted a time bomb?"

Okay, you should stop watching blockbuster movies, bitch!

For once, I see a twitch of Adrian's lips as he smothers his laugh.

He goes back to shut the window while saying, "So you want us to die together in that timing-ticking bomb theory of yours?" The window pane snaps before he adds, "That's very selfish, huh?" while glancing at me.

Befuddled, I pull my serious face and yell, "Forget it! I'll go alone!"

Laughing, Adrian follows me anyway.

My phone buzzes again and I quickly answer.

It's Francesa.

"Yes," I utter curtly, eyes on Arabella shuffling through her closet with a big handbag lying on her bed.

"Meet me at my apartment ASAP," Franscesa responds on the phone, her breath soft but labored.

"Not possible. I got prior engagement," I reply.

"Vile was here," she says.

I hold my breath for a second, staring back at Arabella whose eyes have been on me ever since I picked up the phone.

"Are you okay, Francesca?" I urge, knowing fully well how fickle Vile can be when she's being impatient.

Arabella's face contorts at the mention of 'Francesca' and quickly she plucks several dresses from the closet at once, employing more force than necessary.

"For now, yes. She left a message for you," Francesca tells me, agitated.

Now I'm positive the person who broke into this house was none other than Vile.

She couldn't wait, could she?

"I'll be there in an hour," I reply and hang up.

After a moment, Arabella finishes packing her clothes and a few essentials. She looks at me briefly as I wait by the door of her bedroom, and then she scoffs in a vexed manner without saying a word.

I knit my eyebrows, confused. What's on her mind now?

"We can go," she says.

I stand upright, unfolding my arms off my chest. She trudges closer and looks at me again—the same indescribable look he's given me a second ago—but this time I fail to contain the curiosity running wild in my mind.

"What is it?" I ask, still standing at the door, blocking her exit.

"Are you going to meet her?" she blurts out, her voice accusing.

The frown on my face deepens. "Who?" I ask, even though I'm positive she's referring to Francesca.

"The old bitch we met at the club? Francene or whatever?" She sounds agitated but I cannot fathom what exactly could be the reason why. "You were talking to her, no? Is she in New York as well? Are you in a relationship with her?"

I sigh, my mind more focused on Vile and her intentions than Arabella's baseless accusation. The fact that Vile dared to come here is enough of a message; she knows where Arabella lives and it's only a matter of time before she does something I'm terrified to imagine happening.

"Yes, she's in New York," I answer Arabella's question while grabbing her full handbag. I look her in the eyes and add, "And yes we're in a relationship but not the type you're insinuating. I have to meet her... after I take you home."

Several emotions swirl around Arabella's eyes and her jaw tightens. She never loved Francesca when they met and I understood why. She hates the idea of me meeting her at this moment as much as I do, for I'd rather go back home and sleep knowing she's safe with me.

But I must see her tonight.

"Why?" Arabella snaps. "Why would you meet her at night? What's so important that I can't wait for tomorrow?"

Because I have so much to protect. I have you to protect.

"It's business," I reply.

"Well... if that's the case, you can meet her first and then we can go hom—" She pauses, as if the word she was about to use was a poor or misleading choice of word. "We can go to your place," she revises, "or would you rather be alone with her late at night? I can let you do as you please if that is your intention."

I'm a little enthralled right now.

Are you jealous, little rebel? I feel like grinning.

To avoid further arguments, which, given a different time and circumstance, I'd be enthralled to indulge, I simply reply, "We can do as you want, Arabella. Shall we?" I step aside, giving her a room to exit.

Her facial features slowly relax as she considers my gesture. After a few seconds of staring at each other wordless yet full of unspoken words, she finally walks out of the room and I follow her with a small smile of amusement.

Despite everything, her presence soothes me and makes me feel complete.