Chapter 7
"You're late!" Jay declared as I arrived at his study, prompting an eye roll from me as I confidently took a seat without invitation.
"Well, here I am now, aren't I?" I shot back, casually crossing my leg on the table.
"How are you doing, Jemima?" He asked, to which I responded with a disdainful look.
"We're not here for small talk, let's cut to the chase, and I'll be on my way," I scoffed, diverting my gaze. While admiring the array of books in his library, I mentally noted to explore them later.
"Why don't we mend things, Jemima, move past this feud," he proposed, prompting me to lower my leg and sit up straight.
"How can I trust this isn't a trick to lower my guard and then take me out?" I questioned, studying him intently.
"The fact that you're considering it means you've also thought about a truce," he pointed out, clasping his hands together. I pondered his words, perhaps this was an opportunity to build trust.
"So, what's your proposition?" I inquired.
"Let's start afresh, get to know each other again, but with a drink. If you choose not to answer, take a shot," he suggested.
"Are you planning to get me tipsy and then eliminate me?" I teased, a faint smile playing on my lips.
"I remember you can handle your drinks, Jem, that's why I suggested it," he remarked plainly, rising to fetch a bottle of vodka and two shot glasses from his cabinet. I watched him, impressed by his memory.
"Let's kick things off! What's your name?" He asked, to which I rolled my eyes.
" Jemima Luciana Valerian. My turn, what is your name?" I replied quickly, mirroring the question he asked me.
"I am Jason McIntyre Black," he declared with a hint of pride, his voice carrying a mysterious allure that intrigued me further.
"Are you a twin?" he probed, earning a groan from me as I downed a shot of vodka without bothering to respond.
"My turn, how did you end up in the Mafia ring?" I questioned, fixing my gaze on him, eager for his response.
"I grew up doing it, but rumors suggest I was abandoned as a child. I choose to ignore it," he explained, rising to adjust the air conditioner, noticing my shivers from the room's chill.
"Why ignore it instead of seeking the truth?" I pressed, curious about his motives.
"That's two questions, darling," he pointed out, causing me to nod in acknowledgment.
"Now, it's my turn. How did you become the most feared assassin?" he challenged, a sly smile playing on his lips.
"Why are you acting like you don't already know the answers?" I quizzed, puzzled by his line of questioning.
"We're reconnecting, remember? And if you prefer not to answer, there's always a shot waiting," he teased, his eyes gleaming mischievously.
Without a word, I downed the vodka, causing a coughing fit that left me watery-eyed and breathless.
"Are you okay?" he asked, rushing to my side, genuine concern evident in his voice. I managed a nod, accepting the water he offered, grateful for the relief it brought.
The sooner I understood his motives, the quicker I could escape his grasp.
"Yeah, I'm good now," I confirmed, ready to play this dangerous game to its end.
"My next question, what is the drill on Dennis?" I queried.
"Touché! You know, I could easily drink right?" He pointed out, a glint of challenge in his eyes.
"But you won't," I dared, smirking mischievously, fully aware of his competitive nature.
"Here you go," he said, opening his drawer and producing a blueprint. As he handed it to me, I scrutinized it skeptically, searching for potential loopholes.
"Should I beg for an explanation?" I deadpanned, earning a sardonic smile from him.
"You could have dropped the attitude and asked nicely," he retorted, causing me to hold back a rude remark.
He stood up, circling the table to join me, laying out the blueprint before us.
"Every morning from 6:00 am to 7:30 am, he leaves for the gym. After returning, he heads to his office on the south bridge. Weekdays end with a visit to the club in Vatican City through a tunnel, as he's cautious. Saturdays are for flings, and Sundays he's alone, rotating houses but always guarded. To eliminate him, target his office or create a private moment," Jay detailed, tracing Dennis's movements on the map. I nodded, absorbing the information.
"Any questions?" Jay inquired, his gaze prompting me to focus intently..
"He frequents the club daily, Jemima, and you're a lady," he hinted suggestively, causing me to gasp in disbelief at the implication.
"Excuse me! What exactly are you trying to insinuate ?" I questioned sharply, the venom evident in my tone.
"I'm simply saying that you can leverage your feminine charm to get close to him. You're beautiful; any man would be drawn to you," he remarked, subtly complimenting me.
Ignoring his comment, I pressed, "The explanation, please?"
"What other explanation?" he retorted with a heavy sigh of exasperation.
"Never mind. So, if Dennis Saunders is a target for many and you have all the details about him, why haven't you dealt with him yourself?" I probed, eager for his response.
"Jon asked me not to," he replied casually, shrugging nonchalantly.
"That's it?" I questioned, surprised by his simple explanation.
"Dennis Saunders has a long list of enemies due to his actions, but luckily he hasn't crossed me. I see no reason to pursue him," Jay clarified, casting a solemn atmosphere over us. The distant chirping of crickets grew louder, and the evening breeze brushed through the window, adding to the tension.
"If that's all, I'd like to leave now," I declared, attempting to diffuse the heavy air. As I rose to depart, Jay swiftly moved to my side, holding me back.
"Why the rush Jem?" He inquired, holding on to my wrist gently.
"What do you mean? Aren't we done here?" I was confused, I looked at him with a raised eyebrow, waiting for an explanation.
"The night is still young Jemima, we can still have a good time. Still get to know each other," he proved further and I just shook my head negatively.
"I had a blast, we gotta make this a regular thing," he suggested, and I had to fight the urge to roll my eyes and let out a scoff.
"What exactly are you talking about here?" I questioned with a skeptical gaze and a raised an eyebrow.
"The whole reconnecting thing we just did," he replied with a wide grin showcasing his pearly white teeth.
"Got it," I replied simply, attempting to walk past him towards the door, but he stood firm in his place.
"I've missed you so much, Jem," he declared, his thumb gently caressing my face. I closed my eyes briefly, basking in his touch and as I reopened them, Jay unexpectedly pressed his lips against mine, catching me off guard. I resisted at first, but soon found myself drawn into the kiss. My stiff shoulders loosened up and my back arched into his more.
As the kiss deepened, I felt his fingers exploring my body.
In a split second, memories of my past flashed before me, reminiscent of my father's harsh actions, my wrists bound to the bedpost.
"Are you sure about this?" Miguel interrupted, halting the kiss. I paused, my breath uneven, sweat forming on my forehead that I hastily wiped away.
“Father please!” I saw my twelve year old self begging, the memory still vivid. I tried to shake them off and focus on the present.
"No!" I managed to say, feeling suffocated as if the walls were closing in on me.
"Do you want me to stop?" Jay asked, his fingers tracing my shoulder blade.
"I'll stop you if you overstep," I murmured, shutting my eyes, allowing myself to be enveloped in his touch, convincing myself it was all part of a bigger plan- my bigger plan in taking him out.
I tried to shove those memories of my twelve-year-old self down, but they stubbornly clawed their way back into my mind. Jay's hands moved with a practiced ease, unclasping my bra, and suddenly, all I could think of was Mr. Valerian.
"No!" I screeched, the sound reverberating in the room, causing Jay to startle back in fear.
"What did I do wrong?" he inquired, reaching out a hand that I instinctively recoiled away from. I sank onto the edge of the table, my face buried in my hands, the echoes of a past mission in London haunting me.
"What do you want then?" he questioned, surprise etched on his face at my sudden outburst and shift in demeanor.
"I want you to fucking back off!" I snapped, unable to feign seduction which in turn shocked us both, momentarily. The touch of another man both irritated and terrified me, shattering my plans to earn his trust.
"Here we go again! Always using your past as an excuse, Jemima. It's been twelve years; move on," his words stung, leaving me wounded.
"I regret confiding in you about my trauma when I was vulnerable," I hissed, my voice quivering with emotion.
"No, Jem, that is not at all what I meant," his attempt at an apology fell flat as my anger surged.
"Is this why you wanted us to reconnect? To manipulate me?" I accused, the urge to lash out growing stronger.
"God, no! I just wanted you to open up, to share your pain with me," his confession dripped with sincerity, but I couldn't trust it.
"And you thought bringing up my past would make me trust you?" I spat in frustration.
"Who hurt you?" he asked softly, a hint of compassion coloring his tone.
"It's none of your damn business!"
"Alright, you've probably had one too many drinks, I'll lend you a hand," he offered, sensing my unsteadiness.
“I’ll be damned if I let you in the same room with me,” I spat out in annoyance. As I stood up to make my way out of his study, my feet wobbled, causing me to nearly trip.
“Alright, let’s get you to bed,” he insisted, ignoring my protests. As he hoisted me up, my protests faded into the haze of dizziness. He carried me to my room, settling me gently on the bed, easing off my shoes, and tucking me in. The room spun, suspicions creeping in. I couldn’t have been tipsy from the alcohol because I barely had enough to make me tipsy so it was either he spiked my drink or I had more than I thought.
"Did you spike my drink?" I managed to mumble, the world blurring around me. I tried to keep my gaze open to stare at him but the export proved futile.
"I had no choice Jemima, it was the only way I knew how to get you to rest," he admitted, his words fading as sleep beckoned. I wanted to be angry with him but I couldn’t muster up enough strength to summon the anger.
Sweet dreams, coconut," he whispered, his touch soothing.
"Huh? Coconut?" I questioned, the nickname catching me off guard, struggling to keep my eyes open against the drug's pull.
"Yeah, coconut. It just felt right," his voice carried a hint of playfulness, though unseen, his grin was palpable.
"Out of all names, coconut?" I chuckled weakly, battling the encroaching slumber, wary of Jay's intentions.
"Absolutely, coconut suits you," he affirmed, his tone warm with affection, despite my clouded senses.
"Why coconut?" I probed, curiosity lingering, fighting the urge to drift off, determined to stay vigilant.
"Because you're just like one. You know how a coconut is right? Hard on the outside but sweet on the inside. I know that you may appear tough, ruthless and all but behind the hard surface lies a very adoring spirit," he praised earnestly, causing me to smile genuinely as I drifted off into a peaceful slumber.