Chapter 48 Forty Eight
AMELIA XAVIER
“You're pregnant, Amelia, you shouldn't stress yourself,” Owen said, cautioning me. He set breakfast in front of me and kissed my hair with his fingers. “Owen, the fuck am I having vegetables this morning?” I asked but instead of an answer, he kissed my forehead.
“You're pregnant, the doctor instructed you to eat healthy food,” he explained, making me roll my eyes. “Then I won't eat anything at all,” I said stubbornly. A chuckle escaped his lips.
Well someone's in a good mood today.
“If you want to starve, fine, just make sure the baby is safe and healthy,” he said teasingly rubbing my tummy. “Fuck you-” I cursed and stuffed a spoonful of veggies into my mouth. “-you care more about the baby than me. Last night, I was the one being rammed, not the baby,” I sulked, still chewing on the food.
Glancing to see his expression, he grinned evilly. “You liked it and I bet if the room wasn't sound proof, the neighbours would have heard you scream my fucking name-” he moved to my ear and whispered, “-Owen, you're fucking good… Owen fuck me…” I elbowed him and he moved away from me quickly. “Ouch!” He winced, rubbing his chin. That served him right for teasing me.
“I'll get you ice cream, I made it myself,” he said, going into the kitchen.
Owen Winters was the sweetest man and yes, he did the littlest things — the littlest things that mattered. He was altruistic with his romance and looking into his eyes, I knew he wanted me so badly. He could do anything for that. But I knew beneath all that, he was something worse than father — a bloody mafia.
Wasn't it what we were fighting for?
I loved him.
“I still need to find Kayla Xavier-”
“Rodriguez,” he corrected, interrupting me from the kitchen. “- whatever, I still need to request an audience with her,” I completed waiting to hear what he had to say. “Well, I suggest you take a break, Amy, Kayla isn't going anywhere. For now.”
He was right.
Kayla Xavier loved Paris more than her hometown, it was no surprise that the news and magazines called her a citizen of Paris by devotion. She wasn't leaving anytime soon and I really needed a break.
I shrugged, accepting Owen's suggestion by heart. “Okay, I would,” I eventually said and I knew he smirked.
“We'll talk after I get back from work, maybe the three game question? No, let's do five,” he said enthusiastically coming out of the kitchen.
“That's fine. Three truths, two lies.” He handed me the ice cream. “Vanilla?” I asked, glancing up at him. Owen cocked his head to the side. “Don't you like it? I guess I should've asked…”
“How did you know I liked vanilla?” I asked, scooping a little spoon of it and placing it on my tongue childishly. He laughed at my clumsiness before he spoke, “You liked it when we were little so I thought you still did.” He combed his hair with his fingers, probably awaiting my response.
“Marry me, Owen Winters!” I shrieked and took hold of his hands. “If it's for ice cream, Amelia, then I'll make a company that makes every shit you love,” he said. My heart fluttered for a moment and it looked like everything stopped moving — but it was only for a moment.
The phone rang, and I knew it was time for him to leave. “Come home early, sweetheart,” I heard myself say, but as Owen picked up the phone and answered the call, his expression fell and his face turned dangerous. The type of dangerous one could never decipher.
OWEN WINTERS
How can one feel so many emotions? For as long as I knew, I had those fucking emotions hurled up and thrown somewhere so deep, my memory wouldn't dare to find it.
But why were those emotions suddenly appearing, threatening to tear the fuck out of me?
“Devon,” I whispered, opening the door that I had been standing in front of for about ten minutes or more. I walked into the room and turned to one of my men who stood guard. “Where's he?” I asked. He pointed the way and I left without my usual nod, or thank you.
The man sat tied up, his hair was a mess, but he still looked fresh — freshly unbeaten. “Who do we have here?” I asked rhetorically not expecting an answer, but he gave me one.
“Fuck off,” he answered.
I rolled my eyes and with long strides, I moved towards him and grabbed him by the hair. He winced.
“Of course, that's what you're good at… causing pain to the people who cared for you,” he spat, but instead of hitting him, I loosened my grip on his hair. “Guilt tripping me won't work, Zacharia,” I said feeling suddenly relaxed.
I hadn't entirely gotten over the death of the Devons, something I was ordered to do, but for Pete's sake, I could endure any shit thrown at me.
This would be good… it better be. I thought, waving for one of my men to get us wine. “What type of spirit do you like? Oh, I totally forgot, the Devons loved to use the term poison, am I right?”
He didn't respond so of course I took it as a yes. “Your father almost married the white poison, yes? If I hadn't ended the precious man's life, he would've gotten lost in that wine,” I continued, this time focusing on my nails.
Zacharia knew exactly what I was playing at. Thus the trick was mostly used by his family.
God bless their souls.
The Devons pushed one to their limit until there was nothing left to be pushed, they made sure their enemies were consumed by rage, because as they said — once said; rage leaves a man helpless.
“That shit won't work on me,” Zacharia said, he glared murderously at me, but my eyes did worse.
“Humour me, Zach,” I said light hearted as I gulped down my spirit. He gritted his teeth snarling at me. “The only humour you'll get is how miserable your life is. And you know that. You know how much of your life is a joke…”
Smash!
I cleared the table with a quick sweep of my hand. Everything shattered as bits of glass decorated the room.
Thank God I have shoes on.
“Did I strike a nerve, boy?” He continued, this time his eyes wore triumph, but not for long because I pulled his hair once more, this time making sure strands of it came off. “You struck more than a nerve, old man,” I answered, my hands gripping tightly at his hair. He shut his eyes in pain, biting his lips until it drew the colour of my favourite spirit. Red.
“Why… why the fuck are you doing this to me? I mean no harm…” his voice was replaced with a scream as I pulled out another strand. He winced, pain written all over his face. “As I killed your entire family, Zacharia, that's the same sin I'm about to commit,” I replied, hating the nauseous feeling I felt.
Father gave me an instruction, I had to carry it out obediently and without complaint. “I knew you would never do such a thing, you loved us, the Devon and when I put the pieces together, Owen Winters, you just carried out a fucking instruction, or is that who you are? A bitter criminal?”
Fuck!
I uncurled my hands from his hair and watched him as he massaged it. “You're following instructions, that I'm aware of Mr Winters, and I know you'll not hesitate to cut me in half, but please be nice, I am useful,” he carried on with his words, probably seeing that I was reasoning with him. A smile creeped to my lips, father didn't want him dead, and the old man knew how useful he was to the Winters, but then again, leaving this place would be difficult if I didn't let off steam.
“So you know your worth, that's beautiful, however, you also know who it is that I am?” I asked my eyes sparkling with renewed interest — to beat the crap out of this man.
“Yes, Owen Winters, that bloody killer,” he replied in third person. I cracked my fist and punched him in the jaw, that I knew for certain it shifted.
I was just getting started.
AMELIA XAVIER
11:40 pm
I lay on the bed staring fixedly at the ceiling. The architectural style looked amazing and what was even more fascinating was the fact that I stupidly believed Owen would show up tonight.
Here I laid, staring at the goddamned ceiling and waiting for that fucker to get home. “He'll come home, he promised,” I muttered, forcing my brain to believe the lie. I closed my eyes counting to hundred and back to one.
One's life wasn't meant to be all romantic after all, ups and downs were part of life.
Fuck motivation.
I picked up the gun beside me and stared at it, I loaded and unloaded it. Pulling the trigger, I shot at the wall creating a hole through it. Anything to pass time till he came home… No. anything to deceive myself.
Suddenly, there was a screeching sound. I turned to see my phone beeping.
Fucking alarm.
I sighed, turning it off.
12:00 am
Owen failed to come home tonight.