Selena

When I'm alone, I dance a lot in my living room. Instead of sharing my thoughts and feelings with someone, I pour them out to my favorite songs.

I spin. I twirl. Too much. Too fast. Until my lungs burn and the walls can't stop spinning.

It's such a nice stress relief.

I haven't had any stress relief for a month.

This weekend in Mexico was too much. What am I going to do about my dad? What about the pizza guy? Adam no longer works for me, but he's still coming back to my apartment. What?

I need a twenty-four hour nap to reboot. The burnout has made me nonverbal. It's like my tongue has lost the ability to form sentences.

LA is gloomy when we land. It's 6PM. I'm so thankful Adam is old-school and chivalrous. He carries all my luggage. He even orders an Uber ride to pick us up. I just mindlessly follow with an oversized, cozy hoodie over my head.

So when we step outside the airport and find my dad and Julie waiting for me, I'm dumbstruck.

"You go to Mexico to plan your wedding, but instead you cancel it?" His eyebrows are so bunched up together, it might as well be a unibrow. "How could you do that?"

"He's ten years older than you." Julie scrunches in pain. Oh, she hates this. She always tries to have a good relationship with me.

Ugh. Do I have to answer?

"You can tell she's tired right now, can't you? She'll talk to you later." Adam rolls his eyes at them, placing his palm on my low back.

"How can you date someone like him?" Dad bends over to glare as I slump into the backseat of a black Lexus. "What's going on with you? What happened to marrying Marc?"

I feel bad. It was my idea to marry him. A naive promise I made when his mom was sick and his dad was caught for fraud. Julie asked if I even love him. I said no. I didn't want to hope that love was an option for me. Pretending to be normal takes up so much mental energy. Sharing such a life with someone and being loved despite of it seemed like a recipe for heartbreak.

Now, I keep wondering why. Why didn't they tell me that I deserve more?

I give a small smile to Adam as he slides in next to me and takes up all the space. He sighs and gets comfortable like my dad's not even here.

"You're going to regret this." Dad shakes his finger at my face. "Mark my words. You don't understand now, but one day you'll remember what you told me and regret what you did."

"He's right, Selena." Julie frowns. Wow. Et tu Brute? She averts her gaze on Adam. "Please, Adam. I know she might seem strong to you, but she's very sensitive. I don't think you know—"

"That she's autistic? I know."

My heart thumps.

He knows?

I never told him. I mean, I always leave hints. But no one ever guesses correctly. If I dare to open up and tell someone, I'm usually gutted with misinformed, hurtful, and ignorant reactions.

But you're a woman.
But you're making eye-contact.
But you're socializing.

Dad turns deep red. "No. That doesn't matter. All of us are a little autistic, it's—"

"Are you a little pregnant?" Adam asks.

I snort, clearing my throat to cover it up.

"What kind of a stupid question is that?" Dad snaps.

"Ah, I'm glad you know it's stupid." Adam smiles. His cognac eyes glint towards me, leaving me with the same feeling as if he reached out and cupped my face.

Melting.

"I want my car back." I inform my gaping parents as our Uber drives away.

"My wife and I are twenty years apart." Our thick-accented driver croaks with pride. "She gave me ten beautiful children. Six of them are boys!"

Wow. I didn't realize we're birth-giving kettle.

He makes small talk with Adam for the rest of the long hour. I lean my head on the window and close my eyes, though my mind never stops racing.

"You mind if I shower first?" I ask as Adam unlocks the apartment door.

Home sweet home.

Relief washes over me as I step into the sunset-dappled hallway. At last, I'm in my aesthetically soothing, stylish cocoon.

Except, when I reach the open living room, I see men with guns pointing at us.

I scream. Adam shoves me back behind him. Things move way too fast to process properly.

"Drop the gun, motherfucker. Drop it!" An unknown voice bellows.

Adam must be outnumbered or caught in a bad position, because he listens and gives up his gun.

"Selena..." A voice cries out in the corner. I peek over to see who it is. It's Marc. He's tied up against the wall. His blue suit is stained and disheveled and his hair is a giant rat's nest.

"She's innocent," Adam says to whoever is in the kitchen. "Leave her out of this, D'Amico."

D'Amico?

The pizza guy?

My insides tremble like a rabbit. This is how we die. Oh God. I don't want to die! I'm not ready. I'm so young. There's so much I haven't done. So much I want to see. Please, God. Not today.

"You're not bad for a young writer." A monotone voice muses. "My mother would've liked you."

I poke my head behind Adam, spotting a dark-skinned man in his fifties. He's wearing vintage sunglasses and a burgundy button-down, which must be made out of cotton, given it looks more like pajamas. He's thin. Too thin. And he's busy reading one of my secret notebooks where I draft my romance novels.

"She died before she could finish her memoir." D'Amico keeps his head down on the page. "It was going to be her gift to me. Now all I have is a room full of journals."

"T-tell him we're together!" Marc wails.

D'Amico curls two fingers toward me, beckoning me to come over.

"No." Adam puts his arm out to block me.

"Come—"

"I said no!" Adam's anger explodes. He shakes with adrenaline like a raging bull.

He's going to get himself killed. I can't let that happen.

I move before he can stop me and rush to go around the kitchen island, to stand near D'Amico.

"I am sorry about Charlie," D'Amico says to Adam. "I'd never do what I did, if he honored his promise. Instead, he stole and lied to me."

Adam's eyes double in size and the color leaves his face. D'Amico yanks my hair into his fist and shoves the muzzle of a cold gun into my temple.

"Don't, don't, don't! I'll work for you!" Adam's voice breaks like his throat is full of sand. He throws his hands forward. "I'll work for you. Don't. She's innocent. She didn't do anything!"

D'Amico shoves me off and Adam runs to catch me before I fall. My lungs don't function and my vision is turning black in the corners.

I'm passing out. Greeeat.

Meanwhile the man who almost shot me lights up a cigarette and tilts his head back at the ceiling. He sighs with content. "That's a relief..."

Huh?

The chubby man pulls out a cigarette too. The shorter friend follows along. Toxic smoke snakes around my apartment, infiltrating my nose.

"D-don't kill me..." Marc slides down the wall. He's given up on fighting already.

"Pathetic." D'Amico hovers above him. His cheeks hollow with an unhurried drag, then he flicks his cigarette ash on top of Marc's head. "I was about to kill your woman. How come her bodyguard got upset, but you didn't?"

"He's a piece of trash, boss. Come on, let me kill him for you!" The chubby one cheers.

"No!" Marc tackles him, knocking both of them on the wood coffee table. All my decorations crash on the floor. The short one sucker-punches Marc, splattering blood all over a white carpet.

They attack one another like feral dogs and D'Amico is laughing his head off.

My brain finally starts working again and I remember, I have an emergency keychain alarm in my bag. One of those little, extremely loud devices. I quickly grab it and yank the trigger out.

Ear-piercing noise blasts the apartment. All the men freeze, gaping at me like I have a death wish over my head. I shut the alarm off and my chest physically hurts when I see my carpet is smoking from fallen cigarettes. The soft fabric is curling into a crusty shape and turning all black.

"I'm so sorry for your loss. I am. I'm sorry." I keep my voice firm, staring at  D'Amico. "But you're in my home. I live here. It's the only place where I feel like I belong, where I feel safe. Stop. I can't even breathe, it smells like shit in here!"

For a moment, it's dead silent. And then, the chubby guy cackles. The short one laughs too. I expect D'Amico to make fun of me too.

Instead he removes his sunglasses for the first time and looks at me in awe. He has round, protruding eyes and they're welled up with tears.

"M-my dear mother used to say the same thing..." His bottom lip wobbles.

"Boss, you good? Why you crying'?" The chubby one frowns.

"Get him out of here!" He points at Marc and flings his cigarette on the carpet, putting it out with a leather shoe. "I'll get you a new carpet, don't worry about this one."

His men stuff Marc's mouth with fabric then cover his head. They drag him out of my apartment, while Adam pushes me behind him again, standing between me and D'Amico.

"W-what's going to happen to him?" I ask.

"Your first assignment." D'Amico talks to Adam. "I want you to kill that scum. Have fun."

My eyes bulge out. "What? No!"

Adam hushes me. "Selena—"

"No, it's not worth it! Stuff like that can fuck with his head for life. It's not fair. There are better ways to fix this!"

"Stop." Adam's voice goes quiet.

No. I can't. I have to do something. Anything.

"I'll work for you."

Adam grabs my arm. "Would you fucking—"

"I'll write your mom's memoir! I promise. I'll write your legacy. I swear on my life."

"I'm really jealous of you, my friend." D'Amico chuckles, shaking his head at Adam.

Take me seriously, God damn it. "I'll help you bankrupt my dad! We have footage of Marc's confession. I can get my dad to—"

"He is not safe for you to get involved with." Adam pulls me back. "Stay away him!"

"Come on..." D'Amico scoffs. "Don't be a hypocrite, Adam. You killed your own father with a hammer. Do you really believe you're better than me?"

What?

He did what?

Adam? My bodyguard, Adam?

The man I've been sharing a roof with? The one who was hired to protect me?

Killed...his own...dad?

All the moisture is gone from my mouth. I want to throw up. This is too much. This is crazy.

"Don't worry. Like my mother used to say, the only difference between a hero and a villain is that a hero escapes from hell, but a villain learns to survive in it." D'Amico squeezes Adam's shoulder, passing us to head for the door. "I'll be in touch with both of you. Welcome aboard."

"W-what about Marc?" I ask again.

"I'll keep him for now, little writer. Let's see your work."

He closes the door behind him, leaving Adam and me alone.

Now what?

Adam hasn't moved. It's like time has frozen. Even his eyes are spaced out, like he's reliving traumatic memories from the past.

"How old were you?" I ask.

"Seventeen."

Holy crap.

Adam was in prison...when he was supposed to graduate high school, party at college, drink on his twenty-first birthday, get a girlfriend. Do what every normal, healthy guy usually likes to do. What kind of torture has he witnessed, what kind of helplessness and abuse, to kill one of his parents?

"Was he hurting your mom?" I ask.

He snaps back and crouches to pick up my fallen decorations. "I'll clean up here. Go rest."

"No, I'll—"

"Please. Go. To your room."

Alright. Noted. He wants to be alone. How was I supposed to know that? I'm not a mind reader.

"If you ever want to talk, just know I'm here."

For the rest of the evening, Adam avoids me. He cleans the living room and zones out for hours. Doesn't watch TV. Doesn't play video games. I order us pizza for dinner and take two slices with me to my room, hoping he eats on his own.

I try to wrap my head around everything that happened, try to figure out the best plan of action. Maybe this is stupid, but a part of me is relieved and happy. I thought we were going to die, but somehow, D'Amico listened. What matters right now is to keep my family out of this. Keep Leah out of this. Do my best to finish his memoir and then, maybe I can convince him to let us go.

Around 1 AM, my headphone batteries die. I remove them and stretch my sore neck. I've been on my laptop for hours. Suddenly, I hear an odd sound from the living room.

Huh? What the hell was that?

I tip-toe and snoop behind the wall.

It's dark. The only mellow source of light is from a rattan lampshade on a console table.

Adam is sprawled on his back on the couch. He's asleep, but he's stuttering and twitching. I've never seen him sweat like this. It's dripping down his temples and glistening on his neck. He's heaving like his lungs are held hostage.

"Adam?" I take tentative steps closer to him. His shadowed face is contorted in pain. I lean over to gently shake him. "Adam, you're—"

I shriek. I can't even process the speed as he pounces and pins me to the floor. My wrists are captive in his hands above my head. His hard, naked chest is pressing on my breasts.

He looks at me like he's still dreaming. His eyes are deranged. Animalistic. Slowly, reality dawns on him though. He exhales in relief, frees my wrists and leans his forehead on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

His voice is so cut up. Tormented. This isn't a simple apology. This is Adam's heart. Broken.

Without dwelling, I circle my arms around his neck and pull him down into a big hug. I hold him tight. I picture the younger, helpless version of him when he was a child. I picture how much he needed someone. Someone to trust. How terrified he must've been all these years.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything you've been through. For all the heartache and disappointments. For all the times you've felt scared and alone. I'm so sorry. None of that should've happened to you. None of that."

It's not fair. Not fair.

His biceps flex around me as he pulls back, but not too far. He looks down at me through dark, heavy lashes, with that same cold expression, except his eyes swim like liquid and there's an undeniable trace of something else in them. Hope? Longing? Affection?

It gets me so flustered, my lips involuntarily part for air.

He notices.

His attention lowers on them.

Suddenly, his warm lips hover just above mine. They hesitate, for only a brief moment, before barely, barely brushing against my lips.

Oh...God.

My heart is a jackhammering mess! I'm consumed by new sensations. The silky softness of his lips. The subtle salty taste. The coarse graze of his facial hair. When I open my eyes to gain a sense of control, I am stunned to see his eyes are closed with unapologetic devotion.

Pleasure fogs logic behind white noise. All my fights surrender.

I curve my spine and softly moan against him.

A/N
Did ya like this chapter? I worked my booty off on it, so please let me know! ❤️