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I knock on the door lightly, and at first, he doesn’t hear me. I’m nervous to knock again, afraid that he’ll snap at me for breaking his concentration.
“Come in,” he responds casually, allaying my nerves enough to open the door.
“I figured that bringing the food to you would make it easier for you to eat. Was I right?” I ask, my eyes full of expectation.
He takes the bowl from me, stirring it a bit to study its contents. “You made this for me?” he asks, his voice softer and lighter than its typically raspy, guttural tone.
“Yes, I searched all over the kitchen for the supplies. Just go ahead and eat it, please. Do it for me if you won’t do it for yourself,” I say, sitting across from him in the extra chair on the other side of his desk.
He glances back up at me with genuine appreciation in his eyes. It’s the first time I’ve felt anything other than hostility or annoyance from him, and I never knew how much I needed it.
“Can you tell me what this mission is? It seems like it’s stressing you out to the point that it’s unhealthy,” I ask, fully prepared for rejection.
Pausing to consider his response, he sits up straight and stretches his neck a bit. He’s exhausted from working morning to night for the past three days, and he’s dying for a reprieve.
“Do you really want to know?” he asks, his expression full of hesitation and warning.
I nod, trying to contain my curiosity. He hasn’t ever told me any of the details of his missions before, only enough for me to know that he would likely be in danger at some point in the night. Those conversations didn’t sit right with me, so now I might get a little bit of closure.
“I’m losing weight on purpose to infiltrate a wedding in order to kill one of my enemies. I’m posing as a guest who was invited. He looks a lot like me, but he’s slimmer, and it would be impractical of me to maintain my build if I wanted to pull it off,” he explains, taking a break to eat some of the soup.
He takes a few minutes to eat, and it’s clear that holding off on food has been affecting his psyche in more ways than he was aware. Of course, if he needs to lose weight in order to pass as someone else, he's doing the right thing. But I can’t imagine being robbed of such a simple pleasure as a good meal.
“Why are you trying to kill this person? Why is he your enemy?” I ask, choosing my words as if I’m attempting to navigate a land mine. I’m still not sure how much he wants to tell me, and I don’t want to piss him off.
“He was an informant that was instrumental in my brother’s arrest. He was caught on RICO charges in Germany, and he’s been denied bond because of it. This guy is as slimy as they come, and he still has the balls to run with the same group of underground criminals that made him rich in the first place. I have no idea how anyone hasn’t figured out that he’s a narc, but I’m going to kill him for robbing my brother of his freedom.”
I’m shocked out of my skin. I had no idea that Marcello had a brother, especially one that participates in the same dark industries that he does. I suppose it seems safer than just being his sibling, becoming a target at the first sign of trouble.
“You never spoke about your brother. Why didn’t you tell me? I wouldn’t have been so hard on you when you were trying to leave the bedroom the other night,” I reply, reaching across his desk to touch his free hand.
“I wasn’t sure if I could trust you then. I thought thatyouwere an informant when I found you, remember?” he says, taking another break to continue eating.
I’ve never seen someone so hungry in my life. To be fair, he has discipline about his food habits that I could never dream of having. To cut yourself off from food for three days while suffering from a gunshot wound shows tremendous resolve, or maybe it’s just stupidity dressed up as bravery.
“I mean, I guess I had no way of proving to you that I wasn’t. So, what changed?” I ask, withdrawing a little as my stomach tenses. I’m getting too specific with my questions, and I’m going to end up getting hurt if I dig too deep.
“You saved my life. You stayed by my side for the entire night when you thought I was going to die, and then you forced me to eat homemade soup despite how stubborn I was being about it. If an informant could do all of that while still fucking me over, I would stop believing in the inherent goodness of humanity,” he explains.
I blush, feeling my whole body glowing as I try to suppress my excitement. I’ve made a real, genuine impression on him. For the first time since I got here, I feel like he sees me as more than just a fuck doll or a pet in a cage.
“You’re saying that I’m helping you to see the good in humanity?” I ask as my chest almost bursts from my happiness.
“Well, don’t push it, but... yes. You’ve helped to restore some of my hope that the human race isn’t complete dogshit,” he replies, trying and failing to suppress a smile.
It takes all of my strength to keep my emotions under control. Finally, the father of my children feels a true connection to me. After all these years of wondering, of wishing that he would want to be close to me, I’m starting to get the smallest taste of his love.
But it’s only small for now. I’ll make sure of it.
“That’s the most meaningful thing anyone has ever said to me,” I confess. “I don’t think I’ve ever gotten such a heartfelt compliment.”
He chuckles a little, wincing from the sting of the sutures in his chest. “That shocks me. I was under the impression that you had guys throwing themselves at you.”
My face flushes, both from embarrassment and flattery. “Oh, I mean, they do try to have sex with me, but all they ever say is that I’mbeautiful.It’s such a meaningless compliment. What you said is the first time I’ve felt like someone really saw me as a whole entire person before looking at my body.”
The emotional tension between us is growing thicker by the minute. My soul is screaming for his touch, and I’d jump right into his lap if I didn’t have any self-control. Knowing that I can’t attack him with kisses makes me want him even more.
“Can I believe that while also wanting to look at your body?” he asks, smirking as he sits back in his chair, resting his head on his hand.
