Chapter Twenty-Three-Who?

Chapter Twenty-Three-Who?
ADONIS’S POINT OF VIEW
I must admit that I exhaled a small breath of relief when she left, but I know I’m still not out of the woods. Not by a long shot. The chick sounds crazy.
Anyway. How the fuck did I end up here?
The last thing I remember is being in the garden, taking a walk, and now I’m here. Everything in between is blank.
But her, damn, she seemed stressed. She kept repeating that she was a pro and had to kill me.
But a woman? What does she want from me? I never hurt a woman in my life.
I need to stay calm. Panic doesn’t help anyone, and if it’s my time to die, I don’t want to be remembered as the guy who begged for his life.
I am Adonis Vincenzi, the fucking successor of the Empire, and I will act like it until my last fucking breath.
But her... we had quite an interesting conversation.
And her voice... there's something unique about her voice, but I can’t quite pinpoint it. She seems conflicted and distracted. And I have to admit, she’s pretty funny.
So, after what she said, I should’ve been dead by now; it’s not about ransom or personal. But after all, she could lie. It’s not like I can trust her with my life. Noted the sarcasm?
What’s certain is that she isn’t in this alone. Someone else is behind all this crap, and I want to find out who before I die so I know who I have to haunt.
And maybe I will get a chance to find out who. That is if I don’t keep challenging her to kill me.
I must admit I was a bit scared when I felt the gun pressed against my forehead. I’ve never been in this situation before; I was always the one holding the gun. But she couldn’t pull the trigger. And she’s shy. I know she blushed—I could hear it in her voice.
Well, I’m a charmer after all.
I was looking for a way out when I heard the door again. Fast steps, and then, a gun pressed against my forehead.
So, this is it…
I start to say goodbye to everyone, telling them that I love them and I’ll miss them.
Then I wait... and wait... and waiiittt... but nothing happens.
I feel the gun trembling, which means she’s trembling… but why?
“Well? The waiting is killing me," I joke before bursting out laughing.
Can’t help it.
“You have to admit, that was funny,” I say, trying to stop laughing.
“Please stop talking. I’m trying to do something here!” she snaps, and I burst out laughing again.
“Oh, sorry for the interruption. Keep going," I manage to say between hard attempts at catching a breath.
“I hate that smirk of yours. I hate you! Just die already!” I hear the frustration in her voice, and that confuses the fuck out of me and makes me want to push her buttons even more, but I have to stop pushing her because she’s holding the gun, after all, so I take a few deep breaths and force myself not to laugh anymore.
"Well, I’m tied up, so that makes it hard for me to help you. But you, on the other hand… what’s stopping you from pulling the trigger?"
Note to myself: Don’t say the words killing and shooting so much! Idiot!
But I just can’t help myself.
I wait again... and wait... and wait. This is the hard part. If you want to do it, do it faster!
“Did the cat catch your tongue? The gun is cold, you know? I could catch a cold and die.” I can’t help but make the comment, and she starts laughing out loud.
Well, her laughter is nice. Feminine and smooth.
“That was funny,” she says between chuckles, and I smile like an idiot, feeling... strange that I made her laugh. I don’t know what kind of strange, but... strange.
“I like your laugh, but I’d like to see your face,” and her laughter died.
“That’s a big no!” Okay, got the idea.
“So, are you shooting or not?” I ask again, ’cause I’m an idiot, and I pray that she will disregard my stupid comment.
ARTEMIS’S POINT OF VIEW
Other facts: He's funny and charming. His smirk is irresistibly sexy. His laughter is even more so.
When he asked me if the cat caught my tongue… the answer was a definite yes. But I couldn’t tell him the truth. How would it sound?
I’d say: 'I can’t pull the trigger because you’re the only person who made me laugh in years.' Or maybe, 'That I can’t stop thinking about you,’ and, 'You turned my world upside down with your smirk.'
Yeah, didn’t think so either.
So…
“Are you hungry?” I ask him that instead.
“Yes, I am. What’s on the menu?”
“I don’t have anything right now, but I can make some fries and chicken wings.” Way to go, Artemis. Now you’re cooking for him! Nice!
“So, a killer and a chef,” he says with a smile on his face, trying not to laugh.
He’s crazy.
“What can I say? I’m a woman of many talents.”
“What other hidden talents do you have?”
Wouldn’t you like to know? Stop asking so many questions; otherwise, I might be forced to swap out the first dish for a bullet. So, pick one. Bullet or chicken wings?” I keep my voice calm, almost sweet, and he chuckles.
"You know? If you didn’t want to kill me, I think we would’ve been really good friends. I like your dark sense of humor."
“Yes, just like my soul. Now, again. Bullet or chicken?” I ask impatiently, and he takes a few seconds before answering.
“Can I choose after I taste the chicken? Maybe I’ll pick the bullet.” He laughs softly, and I bite my lip to keep from laughing out loud.
An assassin doesn’t laugh with their victim, mainly because assassins kill, and it’s hard to laugh with a dead body.
He’s a hostage, but even so, I shouldn’t laugh with him.
“Ha. Ha. Ha.. Very funny. Now, wait here. I’ll be back. Shit! I forgot that you can’t go anywhere. Now that was funny!” I say smugly, and he chuckles.
“Even if I could, I wouldn’t! You know why?”
“Enlighten me !” I answer sarcastically.
“I would want to see the face of the woman who had the balls to kidnap me. I’ve never thought I’d die at the hands of a woman.” If you only knew that you already saw my face...
"Now you’re just being sexist, and that’s not okay. Didn’t your mother teach you better? Oh, and never underestimate a woman. We're a lot smarter than men."
“How come?” he asks as he tries to sit more comfortably. Well, not gonna happen.
“The problem with men is that God gave you a head and a penis. But not enough blood to use them both at the same time. Besides, who has the gun, and who is chained?” I ask cockily, and he laughs again.
"That was harsh, but you make a valid point."
“Yes, I do. I always have. And the sad part is that most of the time, you use the blood for the wrong head.” I state my point, and he laughs even harder, making me chuckle.
“Yes, but not always, and not all of us,” he says after he calms down.
"So, you’re saying you're the exception to the rule."
"Yes," he answers confidently.
“Then answer me a few questions. And be honest. I am the last person you’ll talk to anyway. So, consider me your…priest. Your last confession,” I say in a dramatic tone of voice, and he laughs softly.
“I really, really like your sense of humor.” This is not good. Laughing and talking, not to mention the cooking part, I have to stop. I need to focus on my work; otherwise, I’ll lose all credibility and no one will hire me.
And that cannot happen.
“I’ll go now,” I say as I turn and hurry back upstairs, forgetting about the questions and confession.