[LOVEY]

⚘

WILLIAM CREEP IS GETTING ON MY NERVES.

Although his last-name is still unbeknownst to me, I feel the one I have endowed on him is perfectly reasonable. I question his authority as an 'Assassin' every single passing second. He claimed to be working for England, but I've seen no proof of it.

I'm supposed to trust him.

My original thought was that he could be working with the Ash Duo, and is tricking me into an elaborate scheme, but he had every ability to kill me back in the hotel room. He didn't. He wouldn't dare touch me, either. That's the only scrap of proof I have, and I'm not sure I want to witness him murdering someone just for evidence.

While I walked towards La Belle to meet with Percy, he lingered a few steps behind me, hands shoved into his pockets like he was on his own journey. No one seemed to suspect he was following me. He was good at blending in with a crowd—which was surprising, due to his towering height.

Occasionally, he'd break his distance momentarily, brushing past me to whisper something to me under his breath. The hairs on my arms would stand up when I heard his voice scathing past my ears.

"Look both ways when crossing the street," he said, "it's not that difficult."

I resisted the urge to stick my middle finger up at him as he returned to his place behind me. He made me feel stupid for not remembering simple things. The rest of the walk was just as irritating. He had so much to criticize, and I cared about so little.

'Don't smile at strangers.'

'Don't walk on the left side of the pavement.'

'Don't get distracted by other people.'

I felt like a child going to see the world for the first time. I bit back the urge to snap at him every time he'd subtly whisper demands in my ear. Don't tell me what to do, I wanted to say. I couldn't—I wasn't allowed to acknowledge him.

La Belle was a few steps away when I finally saw the familiar face I'd been longing to see. It was a delight to know the real reason why I was here (although if what Creep said was true, he was the reason for this whole issue). I prayed he wasn't.

"Perce!" I exclaimed, holding out my arms, "darling, hi!"

Percy Kent was a gorgeous man. Perhaps too gorgeous, which was one of his little flaws. I often felt we were an unmatchable pair, because he was a Duke and I was an Ex-Retail worker with hardly the same beauty of genetics. It was still shocking that we'd managed to meet.

He scooped me up into a hug, mumbling my name into my neck as he spun me around. I weaved my hands through his curly brown hair. I remembered how this felt, and it brought me back to the last time I'd seen him back in London. Now that I think about it, it's been a month since then. Busy men hardly partake in casual romance.

He set me down and I let our eyes meet. Green, gold, and blue. I often felt like I was staring into the sea when I looked at him.

"Ma fleur épanouie," he exhaled under his breath, a smile on his face as he looked at me, "thank you for coming."

I grinned. "you've been practicing your French."

"I'm fluent, darling, I don't need to practice."

"I so easily forget."

Avidity flooding into his gaze, I let him wrap his arms around my waist, tugging me against him as he pulled me into a kiss. I liked it when he kissed me. It made me feel important. Worthy, in a sense. I suppose it's because it made me feel like someone cared enough to.

I'm not pertained to snogging on the street, but I wouldn't have minded another minute of bliss. Unfortunately, it was ruined. My eyes flickered open for a split second, just to see Creep standing underneath the cafe's canopy and staring at the two of us with a dead-panned expression. Enjoying the show?

No, he wasn't. I could tell by the way his lips curled into a frown, and he slipped a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket in retort. Slipping them on, he lifted his head and stared directly into the sun. Perhaps it would burn the image out of his mind.

"Hm," Percy said, pulling away from me. His eyes flickered down to my lips, and then back up to my eyes. "Out of practice, are we?"

I hadn't realized I'd stopped kissing him.

"Oh, sorry," I began to say. He cut me off with a small chuckle.

"No, no, that's a good thing. Means you haven't been kissing anyone else while I was gone."

I gave him an awkward laugh, eyes diverting towards the spot I'd last seen Creep standing in. He wasn't there anymore. Upon further investigation, I noticed he had moved to a seat outside of the cafe, glasses still perched on the bridge of his nose. He slowly lifted a menu over his face. I rolled my eyes. Percy was too busy leading me towards the entrance to notice.

I ignored Creep as best I could, letting myself fall into the rhythm I'd habited over the past four years. Percy would order himself a coffee, and me a cappuccino. He'd speak about politics and family matters, remind me he could cover the tab in entirety, question me about my life, and go back to speaking about himself. I'd occasionally drone his boring chats by people walking past us on the street.

When he brought up the aspect of his wealth, I held back a sneeze. I often told myself I was allergic to secrets and suspicious business.

The entire premise of Creep following me around was due to alleged debt with the Ash Duo. I had no proof of this, but given Creep's disposition on me, I doubt he'd want to be stuck by my side of his own volition.

I couldn't question Percy, however, so I stayed silent and moved on.

"I have been meaning to speak to you about something important," Perce said. He reached over the small table, placing his hand on top of mine. "It's about us."

A glimmer in his eyes made me think of one thing: a giant diamond ring. I was no stranger to the engagement rumors, so to hear him option the discussion of our relationship was both alarming and exciting. Marriage seemed too soon, but I still want to marry him at the same time. It was a conflict of interest.

I opened my mouth to respond, but a quick slip of my gaze broke me from the conversation entirely.

A waiter had swept out of the cafe doors, a tray with two mugs balancing on the top of it. The order clearly belonged to Percy and I, but instead of making his way towards where we sat, he was stopped in his tracks by someone else.

Creep.

My lips parted in shock as I watched him strike up a hushed conversation with the waiter, gesturing to the white cup that held my cappuccino. There was a nod, a moment of understanding, and then Creep had my drink in his hand as he stared daggers into it.

He brought it up to his nose, smelling for whatever the hell he could be smelling for. Then he reached towards the table he'd been spying at, and twirled a spoon between his nimble fingers. Sniff, furrow, frown. He dipped his spoon onto the top of my cappuccino, bringing it up to his lips to taste it.

I couldn't believe it.

"You're not listening to me, are you?" Percy said, squeezing my hand. He looked annoyed by it, turning in his chair to see what had enraptured my attention. By the time he was able to look, Creep was sitting back in his corner-spot, face hidden by the menu.

I glowered. I wasn't going to drink that now that he'd touched it.

"Oh, sorry," I said, fathoming a faulty response, "I just noticed our drinks are ready."

Percy gave a slight nod. "Hm."

"You were saying?"

Something washed over the man's face, and a knot formed in my stomach. He didn't think I was taking him seriously; it wasn't my fault that Creep had distracted me! I couldn't explain myself. I only listened in disappointment as my boyfriend sighed his next words.

"I think we should discuss this later," he said, "alright?"

I felt my heart falter slightly, but perhaps this was good. My earlier thoughts regarding my views on marriage were still unclear. I needed more time. If I was to be a Duchess, I might as well be prepared for it.

Besides, I hardly think I could talk about my future when Creep was eavesdropping from across the way. He was too far to hear anything, but that didn't mean a thing. Maybe his 'assassin' ears allowed for extreme snooping.

"I bought you this," Percy said, reaching into his pocket.

He pulled out a small box, and my heart dropped. When I saw the brand wasn't Swarovski, I let out a sigh of relief, and let him pop it open.

It was a gold necklace; a small daisy charm, glinting off the sunlight streaming above us. My mouth gaped open at it. The center of the flower was a large, yellow stone. Gorgeous. Beautiful.

"Oh, Perce..." I started, but he'd already gotten out of his chair.

I reveled in the feeling of his fingers against the nape of my neck, sliding the cold metal against my skin. I heard a snap of a lock, then he slid his hands from my shoulders down to my elbows, bending his head to place a kiss on my collarbone.

"Gorgeous," he whispered, his voice tickling against me.

The daisy necklace made me feel overwhelmed with happiness. Sure, it was materialistic, but it was the thought that counted. Percy picked it out for me; just for me.

For the rest of my date, I sat with a smile on my face, the chain hanging above my chest comfortably. Percy seemed smug with pride at his choice of gift, and I was just glad to have it. Creep looked disgusted. Foul git. His opinion didn't matter anyway, after the stunts he pulled.

Perce offered to walk me back to the hotel, but I declined—which, in turn, made him send me a suspicious look—but I couldn't change my mind. If he was to walk into my room, he might enquire about something more intimate, and I'd get sick over the idea that Creep would be standing in the corner like a perverted statue. To quote him: 'I've been instructed not to leave your side at any time'.

I nearly choked on my own spit at the very thought.

The walk back was silent, because I refused to let Creep get anywhere near me. Every time he'd attempt to whisper another criticism in my ear, I blatantly turned to stare directly at him. I wasn't supposed to acknowledge him. I threatened to. I reveled in the constipated look on his face when he struggled to get me under control—he couldn't.

It was only until I entered my room, did I shut the door behind him and let my annoyance bubble out of my mouth and onto the floor.

"Amused, are you?" I spat out, brows furrowed in anger.

Creep stopped by my bed, arms crossed in front of his chest. He didn't look as smug as he had back at the cafe, and I assumed it had to do with the stubborn stares I sent his way while we were walking back. It hadn't even been 24 hours, and I was already finding it too awful to be in his presence.

He didn't answer. I saw his jaw clench. He was holding his words back.

"First, you pick on me the entire way there," I started, listing things off on my fingers, "then, you screw with my date, and to top it all off, you dictate what I eat?"

Creep frowned. "Excuse me?"

"You literally drank from my drink. Who gave you the right to do that?"

He scoffed, waving his hand at me and pacing towards the window. Every action he did was barely noticeable, that I almost didn't see it. Clearly, he was no stranger to suppressing his emotions. I hated that. I wanted him to get into this argument with me, because then I'd know he was actually listening.

"Are you going to tell me why you're such bloody sod?" I spat out. He had his back turned towards me, the afternoon light reflecting off the panes of the window and onto his shoulders. "I thought you were supposed to protect me, not piss me off with every—"

I was cut off by a disgruntled groan resonating from the man, and he slammed his hand against the window in complete anger. Surprisingly, it didn't break. Thankfully it didn't break. The force of it seemed to break the barriers of both physics and sound entirely, and it sent shock waves through my spine.

I knew he had a temper. I knew he disliked (hated with a burning passion) me. But yet, I still needled him and acted horrified when he snapped. I assumed he'd be one to look composed like the stereotypical agent was—emotionless, cold, undetected.

But right, he's not an agent. He's an Assassin, as he's made clear so many times.

I stood frozen to my spot as he turned his head, locking eyes with me with nothing but malice. It was the same expression he'd given me when he said he'd killed people. I suddenly felt uneasy.

"Please use your common sense, Miss Lovey," he said through gritted teeth, "the reason I touched your drink is quite simple."

I took a step back. "Simple?"

"If you were to be poisoned, how else would we know?"

"Well, maybe if there was—"

"Actually, maybe I shouldn't check your food," he cut me off. I watched as he crossed the room, backing me up towards the wall and lowering his voice as he bent down to match my level. "Right now, I'd love to see you dead on the floor, killed by a simple drop of Cyanide, unable to make my job so much harder than it already is."

He was so close to me, I could feel his breath cascading down the skin of my face, and if he moved closer by one mark, he'd touch me. We both knew that was the last thing he wanted to do, but he was daring it. It was a reminder that if he had the chance to kill me, he could.

I opened my mouth, but he silently shook his head. Don't talk back to me. I felt like my skin was on fire.

"Do I scare you?" He asked, his voice low.

I didn't answer.

He lifted his hand, reaching it over my shoulder and placing it on the wall behind me like there was more than enough room. He was challenging me. The fabric of his cardigan brushed against my ear, but it wasn't his skin. He still wasn't touching me, and the proximity he'd placed himself in was a blatant mockery of our situation. He wanted me to do it. He wanted me to be so uncomfortable, and so tempted to reach my hand out and see what his face felt like, because it would mean he finally had control.

He was putting me back into my place. Not above him, not beneath him, but exactly equal as him. He was making me cooperate.

"If I didn't, you would have answered the question," he mused spitefully. Removing his hand, he adjusted the sleeve of his cardigan, stepping away from me. I felt a chill at the lack of body heat surrounding me, and I felt disgusted at the fact that there was any body heat around me to begin with. "Don't test me, Lovey."

Lovey. It felt strange to hear him say my last name without a trace of formality. Then again, there was nothing formal about our situation—especially not now.