Scooping cereal out of the bowl, I ate my Lucky Charms as Christian entered the kitchen. He smiled at me, "Morning Alissa. Sorry about last night, but wasn't the steak really fucking good?"

He speaks as if nothing significant had happened.

I swear at myself mentally. I forgot to thank the cooks. It was a little hard to after witnessing a knife get stabbed through somebody's hands and then storming off to my room after Miles' threat.

I nodded, "It's fine. And yea, tell the cooks I said thanks."

Miles' words from last night had been echoing around in my head all morning. How would he make me be scared of him? He was always dressed in the darkness that radiated off him, he needed to hear somebody not bow down to whatever he said, but now I'm second-guessing my choice. I've seen him covered in blood, I watched him stab somebody, and now, he wants to scare me. 

Honestly, I already slightly was. I just didn't want to let it show last night. He's tall, strong, a killer. When I'm around him and remember those things, a chill gets sent down my spine. Something about how casual he always is scares me even more. He sits and eats and does everything a normal person would do, however, he goes out into the night and takes lives before returning home. It clearly didn't sit on his consciousness, he didn't feel bad about anything he did.

Christian sat across from me, staring down at the smoothie in his hand. He asked, "Still up for some basketball?"

I bit the inside of my mouth. I have nothing else to do, so why not? Swallowing the last bite of cereal, I walked over to the sink and started washing it. I told him, "Sure. Just let me get changed first."

I was still in the shorts and sweatshirt that I slept in last night, and with the temperature outside I knew I'd be sweating in seconds. He nodded and told me, "I'll be out in the court waiting for you."

I headed upstairs, looking for some clothes to change into. I picked a white tennis skirt and black t-shirt and pulled my hair back into a french braid before heading back down the stairs. Tennis was the only sport I had played before, so it was the only athletic clothing I owned. 

Making my way out to the court, I stopped in front of the fountain for a moment. It's so beautiful. Especially with the flower petals. I wish I could be surrounded by flowers for my entire life. 

I continued walking, seeing Christian shooting the basketball. As I approached he tossed it to me, and I caught it. He told me, "Show me what you got, Gomez!"

I walked in front of the net, shooting the ball. But I missed it terribly. A laugh came out of Christian's mouth and I told him, "Don't laugh! Everybody starts somewhere - even Lebron."

He chased the ball, picking it back up and tossing it to me again. He smiled, "Sorry. Here, shoot again."

I shot it again, missing again, and Christian laughed again.

It was a cycle for the next 30 minutes of me shooting and missing, and then Christian shooting and getting it in. What a show-off.

Christian stood, dribbling the ball as he asked, "Have you ever even played basketball before?"

"My stats are out there on the internet, find them and see my skills," I responded sarcastically.

He laughed, shooting the ball from where he was. He rushed back over to it, picking it up and running to be sort of far away. He told me, "Here, block my dunk."

My eyebrows lowered, "You can dunk?"

"Um, yea. I'm 6'1," he said in a 'duh' tone, gesturing up and down at himself. I'm not the smartest person ever, but I'm pretty sure he's about 5'10.

"Then why aren't you in the NBA?" I asked. Isn't that all it takes?

He shook his head, "God bless your soul, Alissa. Now try and stop me from dunking."

I nodded my head. Sounds simple enough.

I stood in front of the net, ready to block him when he went to dunk. He stood, dribbling the ball before starting to run with it to the net. He went up to jump so I jumped too, the strength of his body making me fall backward onto the court. A pain happened in my knee and I bit my lip, trying to keep myself quiet because I didn't want to make him feel bad. 

Despite my amazing basketball skills, he was still able to dunk. He flexed his muscles at me while I remained sitting on the ground and he smirked, "Maybe I should be in the NBA."

I rolled my eyes and he walked over to me, helping me to my feet. It was painful to put pressure on my right knee, so I kept my body weight on my left leg. He asked me while moving his eyes up and down, "You good?"

I nodded my head and lied, "Fantastic. Just going easy on you so you don't feel embarrassed."

His phone buzzed in his pocket, so he pulled it out. Through heavy breaths, he told me, "Shit. I have to go do something quickly. Rematch sometime?"

"Oh absolutely," I forced a smile, making him smile. Never would I do this shit again, I think my knee is about to explode or something. 

He wiped some of the sweat off of his forehead, turning around and starting to jog towards the garage. I looked down at my knee, swearing under my breath before painfully starting to walk back inside.

I limped down the hallway, holding onto the wall for support. Once I got to my room and turned my light switch on, I jumped seeing Miles sitting on my bed, waiting for me. His black boots were against the floor, his curls without a single strand out of place. 

He sat with his muscular arms crossed, but once he made eye contact with me he stood up. I asked him after being silent out of shock for a few moments, "What are you doing in here, Miles?"

"I need to talk to you," he spoke, once again without an ounce of emotion.

I clenched my teeth to try and stop my face from showing a pained expression from my knee. I tried my best to walk completely normal over to my bed and sat down, "Okay. What do you need to talk about?"

His eyes looked me up and down, which for some reason made butterflies form in my stomach. I could feel against my skin where his dark eyes would look. He walked over to me, kneeling down in front of me. His eyes looked up at me for a moment before moving his eyes to my knee. He states, "You hurt yourself."

"No, I didn't," I shook my head. I didn't understand how he even noticed. 

He went to place his hand on my knee when I swatted it away, "Hands off. I'm a germaphobe."

He rolled his eyes, standing back up. I thought he bought my lie but his one arm went under my legs, his other going around my back. He picked me up and I said, "Hey! Do you even know what a germaphobe is?"

"Shut up," he muttered, carrying me out of the room and down the hallway.

When I imagined my fairytale life, I thought about a man sweeping me off my feet. But not like this - not an emotionless killer carrying me down the hallway of his house which I'm forced to be at. 

We walked to the room at the very end of the hallway, which always had its door shut. Even though I didn't know what room it was, I knew to not go in there. He pushed it open, revealing a bedroom that was even bigger than mine. It had a gorgeous view of the backyard, it was spotlessly clean, and the black and grey color scheme matched nicely.

I hadn't really thought about what his bedroom might look like, but this didn't surprise me at all. It was dark, just like him. He carried me into his bathroom, sitting me down on the counter. I looked around, fighting the urge for my jaw to drop. The bathroom was equally as beautiful. His immoral ways have surely made him rich beyond belief. 

He started to pull some stuff out of his cabinet as he asked me, "How'd you do that?"

"Basketball with Christian," I replied truthfully. It seems that even when I lie, he knows the truth.

He nodded, walking over to be in front of me. He put his hand on my knee and I winced, making him remove it. He said quietly, "Sorry."

An apology, something I never thought he'd ever give. 

He started to put a compression wrap around my knee, and I wanted to take this time to get to know him some more. I asked him, "What were you doing this morning? And what did you need to talk about?"

"It can wait for another time, and I had a meeting with Charlotte," he replied while continuing to wrap without looking at me.

I spoke teasingly, "Ladies man, huh?"

He paused, a small smile forming on his face as he met his eyes to mine for a moment. So that's what he looks like when he smiles.

His face is covered in freckles, they remind me of stars.

He shook his head, "I've never been in a relationship. Charlotte is somebody who gives me hits often, she's the dons daughter."

A man that looks like that has never been in a relationship? It must be a choice then, he doesn't want anybody to get close to him. 

"Hits?" I question. 

He clarified, "People to kill."

My lips parted for a moment. I had almost forgotten that he kills people for a moment while he helped me. I couldn't believe the difference between us, he kills people every day, and I don't think I could live with myself if I ever did. I nodded, "Right. Was my dad an assassin?"

"No. Your dad was in debt to the don because of drugs, he hadn't paid him for months," he tells me.

That honestly didn't surprise me. I knew he took some drugs, but I didn't pay attention to which. Miles asked, "Do you miss your father?"

I froze for a second. I don't really know how to answer this question. I guess Miles could see that I was tense because his eyes moved around my face and he stated, "Your father is a sore subject."

"Something like that," I said quietly.

He nodded, "I understand."

At this moment, it was like his cold exterior was melted. His eyes showed emotion and he dealt with my knee carefully, not trying to cause any pain. I asked, "How's your relationship with your father?"

He doesn't respond right away. He thinks. 

"My dad got sentenced to life in jail when I was a teenager," he shared.

My heart hurt for him. That must've been hard to deal with. I told him, "I'm sorry. And how old are you now?"

"25."

His facial expression was soft as he gently put my knee back down, it now completely wrapped. He asked me, "Do you want any painkillers?" 

"No, but thank you. How do you know how to do this?"

"From getting shot and stabbed," he said casually, putting his stuff back in the cabinets. 

My eyes widened, "You've been shot? And stabbed?"

"Yes. When I was first starting out, but it'll never happen again," he says. "I'm smarter now."

It felt like he was more open now, sharing stuff about himself with me. I was seeing a glimpse of the person that was beneath his emotionless exterior. Maybe this glimpse I see is who he truly is, the person he pushes away inside himself so that he can continue to be this killer. But underneath his cold ways, he's a person just like everybody else, who has been through some hard things. 

His fingertips grazed my leg as he checked the wrapping, making butterflies form in my stomach once again. He moved his eyes back to meet mine, making my heart thump quickly in my chest. Something about his eyes just did that, maybe it was fear, maybe it wasn't.

He leaned a little closer to me, looking me up and down. He asked quietly, "Did I hurt you?"

I shook my head no, my throat unable to speak. His eyes moved to my lips as he replied, "Good."

It felt like there was a rope tugging me towards him. He inched closer, and my lips were fighting the urge to kiss him. See if he truly is warmer than I've been seeing him. And judging by the fact that he didn't move back, I felt like he was thinking it too. 

I whispered, "Miles?"

He looked like he got snapped out of his thoughts, his eyes moving away from my lips. He rubbed his jawline while taking a step back, and I found myself feeling a little disappointed. But that was ridiculous of me - this man is a murderer, I shouldn't even think that way. 

He picked me back up again, walking back into the hallway. He went back into my room and put me down on my bed gently while telling me, "You didn't break anything. Just take it easy for the next few days and you'll be fine."

I said softly to him, "Thank you."

An emotion that I couldn't put my finger on flashed behind his dark eyes. He nodded and said, "Goodnight Alissa."

I watched him as he left my room, shutting the door behind him.

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

As darkness settled into the sky, it felt like all of my emotions were hitting me like one big tidal wave. I hadn't really processed everything that was going on around me, but now that I was alone in bed with my thoughts, they were racing through my brain.

There was a kind side to Miles today, but that still doesn't change that he kills people for a living. That scares me. Yet today, I almost kissed him regardless. Seeing him show kindness today warmed my stomach, and I knew there was more to him than what met the surface.

But I feel like a prisoner here because of my father. I don't know what reason he has for needing to keep me alive, but I want out of his grip. I want my own life. I want to leave. I'm tired of my dad controlling everything about my life when I'm nearly 22, even when he's not around. 

Tears rolled down my cheeks, but I sniffled and wiped my damp cheeks. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. My dads an abusive piece of shit, and even when he isn't here, he still dictates what I can and can't do. 

And I'm sick of it. 

I removed the covers from my face, rolling over onto my side and shutting my eyes. 

Tomorrow night I'll leave, and Miles can have fun trying to find me. 

Word Count: 2512