Chapter 30: 20| Special-1

┏━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┓ Special ┗━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┛ Chapter 20: Special (Amara's POV) "You're drunk," he stated. I scoffed, rolling my eyes, and tightened my grip on the dagger in warning. "I am not," I argued. Amusement swirled in his gaze as he tipped his head to one side. "Are you sure?" Blinking once, then twice, I hesitated. "Uh… A little," I admitted. He hummed in response and nodded lightly. "And what exactly do you plan to do? Waving a dagger around in your drunk daze. If I may ask?" He lifted a questioning brow at me. "Huh," I mumbled quietly, "good question." Pausing, I cleared my throat, "If you must know-" "I must," he confirmed. I opened my mouth to tell him everything he wanted to know but quickly stopped myself in realization and stared at him in disbelief. "Why should I tell you? I don't owe you any answers, nor am I obligated to give you an explanation." "You should tell me because I'm asking nicely," he replied, pushing off the car and stepping forward, forcing me to retreat. "And you should tell me while I'm asking nicely, Malyshka," he sighed, staring down at me. I stumbled back, losing my balance until my back hit the car behind me. Stood still and dumbfounded, I watched him. "Be a good girl and answer me, will you?" he pressed, pocketing his hands. "I had an impulsive urge to come and stab you in the neck," I said bluntly, ignoring his nickname. His gaze drifted to the dagger I clenched in my hand. "Why don't you?" "I don't know…" I trailed off, my gaze drifting to his throat and narrowing. "Maybe because everything is starting to get a little blurry… and… maybe because I'm seeing two of you," I sighed, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him away while I stalked forward until his back collided with his car. In all honesty, I was beyond buzzed. I was utterly drunk and desperately trying to hold myself together. A little liquid encouragement to get through the night transformed into endless glasses of vodka martinis and vodka and I didn't mix well. Never have. "God, I really wanted to get rid of you tonight," I groaned softly, "before you get rid of me." He watched me, his hands still in his pockets, away from me. "I'm not getting rid of you just yet, remember?" With delight and pleasure carved into his features, he lifted a hand and slightly tilted my chin up with his knuckles. My brows furrowed and I felt the frown on my lips as a flicker of rage lit up in me. He always acts so superior, that prick. How much will he underestimate me? "Don't touch me," I bit out, lifting the dagger back up to his throat. The ghost of a smirk danced on his lips as he held both hands up, mocking surrender. Slowly, his eyes strayed down to where my free hand was planted on his chest. "I don't think I'm the one touching you, Ms. Milano." Ignoring him, I pushed him further into the car, holding him down. "I'm holding you hostage. I'm allowed to touch you," I shrugged nonchalantly. His brow twitched up. "I hope you know I'll be using your words against you in the future," he replied. "Only if I let you," I snapped back. "Really?" He pushed himself off the car, the sudden movement causing me to retreat and stumble lightly. My grip tightened, forming into a fistful of his shirt as I caught and held myself up. Taking another step forward, he forced me to step back and cornered me until I felt my back meet the car behind me once again. "And you think you wouldn't? Let me, that is." Staring at me and refusing to break away, it felt like he had me pinned not only beneath him but even under his gaze. I felt as if I couldn't move a single inch. Not even when I felt him take hold of my wrist and pry my fingers off the dagger and steal it out of my grasp. "Get it together, Ms. Milano," he whispered, dragging the blade along my jaw, holding it beneath my chin. "We don't get vulnerable in front of the enemy now, do we?" It was instinctive for me to lose my breath when I felt the cold press of the dagger against my skin. "I wouldn't recommend," he began, slowly trailing the very tip of the knife down my chest, stopping at my cleavage where the blade met the neckline of my dress, "letting your guard down in front of me," he finished. It was a struggle to breathe steadily in his wake. "I never let my guard down in front of you, Mr. Harper," I replied, keeping my voice even and strong. "But it is proving to be irrefutably difficult after having one too many glasses of martini." Removing the dagger, he held it in his grasp and braced both hands on the car behind me, caging me between his arms. "What do you want, Malyshka? What is it that you're asking for?" I stared at him as I lifted myself off the car and whilst staggering in my steps, leaned into him. My hands dropped against his chest but slid down as I failed to hold them up and eventually settled at his waist. He inhaled sharply. "Ms. Milano-" Tightly gripping his shirt, I tugged him forward, our bodies colliding. "You never call me by my name anymore," I whispered with a soft, dry chuckle. "Can you drop me home, Mr. Harper? I fear I am in no condition to drive." Asking for Tristan's help, even if it were for something as small as driving me home, felt like an impossible task for me to do if I were sober. Drunk me, though? Not so much it seemed. I felt rather unhinged asking him to drive me home and that alone unsettled me. I should have been maintaining a distance between us. After all, he truly wanted to kill me and could do it any minute. I wasn't as naive as to think Tristan would spare me under any condition but sometimes, especially at times like this, it felt okay to ask for his help. He was never one to offer it himself anyway. But the problem was that I shouldn't trust him to help me or to save me whenever I needed saving. Yet for some strange, incomprehensible reason, I did. Still, I was scared he would kill me if I pushed him far enough. That was one thing I could never doubt him for. "What? Are you scared?" I tilted my head to the side, peering up at him. "I'm not that bad of a drunk, I promise," I chuckled genuinely this time. "All I ask," I sang, shifting my weight from one foot to another, only for my knees to give out. I laughed a little louder, catching myself on his arms as he caught my waist, pulling me closer, allowing me to lean into him. "All I ask is for a ride home," I said, grinning up at him. "Please?" He remained silent for a beat and then another before exhaling. "Get in the car," he told me. With a firm hand at the small of my back, he steered me towards his car and opened the passenger door.