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2:08 AM
Hannah
She proceeds to send me a voice note that I know will be her belting the lyrics to me so I make the smart choice and lock my phone, ignoring it all together.
He throws open his door and he has a Hermès box in his hand.
My heart does a little leap but then I tell it off because I don't want to get ahead of myself. He only passes me the box without actually looking at me as he slides behind the wheel. “Here.”
I take it but keep my eyes on him. “What is it?”
He turns to me and gives me a blank stare. “What does it look like?”
It looks like a fucking Hermès box, that Hermès handbags come in. No, Cas. Calm.
I narrow my eyes at him. “You're having me on.”
He rolls his head back against the leather seat in a very exaggerated motion. “Just open it.” He groans.
I flip open the box taking out the dust bag. It's a bag. I know it's a bag. I can sense it like fucking spidey senses. I pull at the drawstrings and get a look at the Himalayan crocodile skin.
I drop it back into the box, pressing the back of my hand to my open mouth as I stare at him. “Is this a joke?” He just shakes his head.
“This costs like half a mill! You have to be approached by Hermès themselves to even get a chance to buy this?” I take it out of the dust bag fully and it feels wrong to even be touching it.
30cm Himalaya Niloticus crocodile with palladium hardware. I drop it back in the box, shaking my head at nobody in particular. “You're joking. You are absolutely joking”
He shakes his head, turning to me with the most tempting eyes you ever saw. “Thought I owed you for almost getting you killed.”
I gape at him. “Yeah, maybe a nice necklace or something. Not a bloody investment. This is like one of the most expensive bags in existence?”
He lets out an annoyed breath. “Is this where you tell me you can't accept it because it's too much?”
Without thinking I grab the bag and hug it to my chest possessively. “Absolutely not. No takes-backs. It's mine now.” You’d have to pry this thing from my cold dead hands. Even then, it's coming in the coffin with me.
His smirk turns into a smile just before he squashes it and starts the car. “I actually expect you to wear it. It's not made to sit on a shelf.”
I run my hands over the leather. “Yeah of course.” My tone is unusually high because I have absolutely no intention of bringing this outside of my room. Ever. Not even with a bodyguard.
I slide it back into its dust bag and reluctantly lay the box on the back seat, as I do the scent of whiskey wafts over me. “You really shouldn't drink and drive,” I say as I turn forward. “If you get me killed tonight, I swear to god I'll become your own personal poltergeist.”
He reaches over me, grabs the seat belt and clips it for me. Eyes flicking up to meet mine with more intensity than before. “I would never hurt you.”
I pause, holding his eyes and I just know he’s telling the truth. A kernel of fear sparks inside me. The way he's looking at me isn't light and easy, it's deep. What's also deep is him spending half a million dollars on a bag to apologise. I can feel myself getting drawn further towards him. It’s one of my many faults, I love to fall in love. That exciting feeling at the beginning of a new relationship is something I'm always chasing. I want to feel loved and looked after. But doesn’t everyone?
“So Mr. Moretti, where are you taking me?”
“It's Enzo, Mr. Moretti is my father.” He says with his attention over his shoulder as he reverses the car, spinning his hand over the wheel while his other arm rests behind my headrest. What is it about that small action that turns me on so much?
Pulling my attention away from the oddly sexy movement I ask. “Okay, not Mr. Moretti. How about Frank?”
“Who the fuck is Frank?”
“That's the punisher's real name. Frank Castle?” His expression is blank so I carry on. “You know, ‘The Punisher’. It’s on Netflix? Jon Bernthal?” My tone heightens as I continue because how does he not know this? Does he watch any TV at all? His expression is still blank and I roll my eyes muttering “Uncultured.”
At first, I couldn't decide between Deadpool and Dead Shot, but it came to me whilst I was watching The Punisher the other night. That's him, an avenging angel with a side of rugged, dark-haired love interest. I mean it doesn't help that Jon Bertnthal covered in blood is a kink for me at this point. Don’t judge me.
He lets out a small breath of amusement. “Anyone ever told you, you're an enigma?”
