Chapter 55

AVALINE

"Darn, confident," he said.

"Or maybe you can only tease?" I provoked him more. "Afraid you'll underperform?"

"You're really asking for it."

"We have all our lives."

The smile on our faces simultaneously faded. I looked away and cleared my throat. I got off him and lay down on the bed beside him. I turned away and covered my face. I silently beat myself up.

Temporary. Temporary. Temporary.

I kept chanting the words and willed myself to toughen up. And I waited for the pain to stab me. But it didn't come. It felt like a bucket of ice washing over me.

Rejection isn't painful anymore. For most of my life, I've faced several of them. First, heaven did not grant me a life with a complete family. I take that as heaven's rejection of my wish not to be lonely. While I lived under the same roof as my father, he never paid me much attention, despite my efforts to establish a bond. Then there are also my so-called "friends" who were only ever interested in what I could give them. Thinking back, they never asked me about my interests or my family. All my conversations with them revolved around either them asking for a favor or following up on whether I'd accomplished that favor. And Czar when he stood me up on prom night.

I guess I'm reliving it right now.

The Ava before Czar captured me would have taken every rejection to heart. But now... I don't. I've managed not to go crazy during my captivity and establish my own normalcy. In small ways, I've entertained myself.

I don't need them.

Silence dominated us for minutes, then strong arms wrapped around me, and I found my back pressed against his front.

"Keep saying those things and I might take that as permission to keep you for as long as I breathe," he whispered lowly into my hair.

My eyes widened.

His hand played with the ring on my finger.

"Get up. Let's practice your shooting skills."

I groaned. What a sudden change! Just earlier, I'd confessed and he was overtaken by his desire again; now we were training once more! The man just won't let me rest. My training has become more frequent than usual—what used to be every other day has turned into five times a week.

I already have many bruises because I've been losing several times. But I could say I've improved. Czar doesn't let me train with Eiran anymore after he made me upset last time.

We're now at the shooting range owned by the Levesques; it seems like all businesses and buildings here belong to them.

He put earmuffs on me while I put on the shooting glasses.

"I can do it myself!" I complained. "Just wear yours."

He shook his head as if he was disappointed in me. "I've been shooting enemies dead with a gun my whole life. Do you think I need that?"

I scoffed. "Maybe I shouldn't have these after all? I can't be like this while fighting."

He regarded me sternly, one that told me I couldn't negotiate. I pursed my lips to hold back my smirk.

I love arguing with him and pissing him off. Sometimes, I feel like we're so close, but I also get reminded that we're strangers. I don't know his interests. He likes to hurt and overpower his enemies, but outside of that, I know nothing. Even about his family, I have no idea. They have no family pictures. All I know is that he has two siblings, but I don't know his parents.

His family isn't my business. Or anything about him at all. I'm just his tool for revenge, and he saved me from marrying Pascal.

But I still wanted to keep something of him before we eventually part ways.

"Let's make a deal."

Czar looked at me with curiosity. His brows furrowed, trying to read my motivations. He inclined his head in question.

"For every target I hit, I get to ask you questions and you'll answer me honestly."

A tinge of saltiness touched my tongue. I felt a slight pain when I licked my lower lip. I didn’t realize I was biting too hard because I was concentrating on each target. My breath echoed in the room before I pulled the trigger.

It missed by a few inches to the east. This time, it’s closer to the target. I don’t know if I should consider this an achievement since I hit farther away earlier or be annoyed that I still haven’t hit it. I’ve wasted two possible questions already. My husband only allowed me ten attempts and ten questions.

I held the gun’s grip firmer as if I could intimidate it into submission and just hit my target. Czar’s facial expression is closed off. There’s neither disappointment nor smugness at my failures. He’s conflicted. He’s a capo, and he’s not comfortable with the idea that I’ll be able to get a glimpse of him as a person, without the mask of being a mafioso. Just him.

But I won’t back down on this. He has crossed all of my boundaries. He kidnapped me, and for certain, has done a background check on me, watched me without my knowledge through Devika, his double agent, and forced me to marry him. So why would I feel guilty about being privy to his personal life?

On the fourth attempt, the bullet finally hit the target. My heart raced with adrenaline at seeing the hole that the bullet made straight into the heart.

"That's one question, Czar," I said in a sing-song voice, my eyes glued to the targets. My smile was wide.

I hit two more in succession, but my confidence wavered on the seventh and eighth shots. Czar silently watched me. I expected his eyes to obsess over the target. But the entire time they were on me. His face was empty of emotion, but his gaze burned into me regardless.

On the ninth shot, I was seconds away from wanting to shoot myself instead. Why was I so arrogant thinking I could make a deal? Maybe I was pressured, which is why I couldn’t do this properly.

If I can’t hit on the tenth shot, do I only get to ask him three questions? What would I get from just three questions?

I adjusted my stance. Then I pointed the gun at the target but did not pull the trigger. It felt like I was doing calculations in my head even though there wasn’t really anything processing. I'm no expert.

"Stop procrastinating, wife."

Czar's intrusion startled me, and I pulled the trigger.

My eyes widened.

"Shit!" I shouted. I turned to Czar. "I’ll try again. You startled me."

"You can't use that as an excuse when you miss your enemy. Whatever the circumstances, you should be able to shoot."

"This is your fault! I want to shoot you right now!" I hissed.

He raised his arms next to his head, making himself an open target.

"And you're free to do so," he smirked. "I'm nothing but indulgent to my wife. Happy wife, happy life."

Beneath those words is utter confidence that I won't be able to do it. So arrogant! I fantasized about making him eat his words. In my head, I shot him in his legs and arms flawlessly, and he knelt at my feet, begging for mercy.

I chuckled softly at what I imagined.

He narrowed his eyes as if he knew what I'd just thought of.

"I'll repeat it."

"You can try until the hundredth time. You don’t see me stopping you."

I sensed a "but" coming.

"But I won't be answering any more questions than three."

My jaw dropped.

"I only agreed on ten attempts. The eleventh and beyond will just be for your practice."

I groaned. "You're so unfair!"

"A deal is a deal, Avaline. You better choose your questions wisely."

I sulked and dropped the gun on the table. He shot me amused looks.

"Remind me to murder you in your sleep."

His brow shot up, an entertained expression still on his face. Then he nodded. "Dutifully."

My lips thinned. I'm still pissed and murderous. I'm concerned that I used the word murder more than once. But it appeases my vengeful heart a bit.

"While I admire your inner lioness, I'm not sure you're capable of hurting the only man you want." I sensed a smile in his voice. And... softness.

"While I admire your strong memory of my words, you underestimate me too much," I said, trying to conceal my flushed cheek.

I don't know exactly when, but I found myself being lifted and placed on the table with his tongue invading my mouth. His hands are everywhere. On my cheek, my nape, my breast, my waist, down my thighs, and my ass.

We just made out on our bed an hour ago, and we're devouring each other like we were thirsting for decades.

But I'm not about to get myself distracted with his skilled mouth.

"Mi diablo, I still have my questions." Every word is unclear because he kisses me before I can finish it.

I chuckled.

"Stop trying to divert my attention," I cradled his face. He looked sleepy. I suspect my expression mirrored his.