Handcuffed To The Mafia Boss

Chapter Seven

"Whiskey?" My stranger, who I knew was now named Niklaus, asked me once we got into the big  suite room that he had booked for the night so we could rest for a couple hours before the locksmith came.

"I thought whiskey was not feminine enough for you." I commented.

"Do not twist my words Juliet," he half smirk half scoffed under his breath while pouting himself a glass of whiskey at the inside bar of the suite room and I helplessly stood a little away from him, my hand which was cuffed with him, being moved as he moved his hands according to his wishes. "I said I have not seen a lot of woman choosing whiskey when there's such a variety of drinks offered."

"Oh." I sheepishly murmured. I had honestly forgotten what his exact words were.

"It's a rather rare sight. Doesn't mean an unappreciated one," he casually added, still busy in his mixology of making the perfect drink.

I felt my cheeks redden, my voice feeble as I replied, "I'll have some."

"That's more like-"

He paused when there were loud knocks on the door of the room. "Open the door, Juliet." He commanded.

I rolled my eyes. And he was calling me idiotic. "We're cuffed. You'll have to walk to the door with me."

I heard him groan under his breath, and then curse in a whisper. I bit my lower lip because of the chuckle that threatened to break on my lips remembering how arrogantly he'd told Smith that he wasn't drunk, when alcohol was clearly influencing his decisions.

Grumpily, he still walked to the door, and I opened it to Ricky, who I assumed to be another security person to Niklaus since he stood with Smith earlier, and another man beside him, who from the look of it was a locksmith.

The locksmith was my height, and I did not miss how his black eyes flickered down to my legs as he checked me out whilst his tongue lightly licked his lower lip. 

"I know she is embarrassing, but that does not give you the right to keep staring at her." Niklaus growled beside me, making me flinch and the locksmith gulped as he turned his eyes to the man beside me. "Just get the f*cking job done."

I could see the locksmith's eyes turn towards the hand cuffs between us and shock sit in them. I knew he had a hundred curious questions and I was only thankful we weren't answerable.

We let the locksmith inside the room and while he inspected the handcuffs, I took the opportunity to call Samantha and let her know that I was stuck in a 'situation'- quite literally, and if she'd be okay on her own, which she thankfully agreed to. She had work tomorrow, as did I, and the thought of having an 8A.M shoot when it was already three in the morning was horrendous. 

So much for having a fun night.

"Hmm.." the locksmith finally said, bringing me out of my spiral of self misery. "It would take me a few hours to duplicate the lock and make another key to it."

"Of course he's also insufficient." My stranger grumbled under his breath before shooting dagger eyes at poor Ricky. "Could you have not found anyone else?"

My lips slightly parted in shock. That was rude!

"Sir, it was 2 A.M, and you were the one who insisted upon me bringing the first locksmith I found." Ricky defended himself in a low voice and I shook my head, sipping my whiskey.

Niklaus seemed annoyed as he looked at the locksmith. "Two hours. That's all you have."

"Sir, this looks like something that would take a good four-five hours..." The locksmith began.

"Two." Niklaus cut him off, his voice shrill. "That's. All. You. Have. And if you cannot give me the key until then..." He paused, and then gulped in annoyance before pulling back the smug smirk on his lips. "I'll have Ricky explain you what will happen." He turned towards his security. "You'll do that, won't you, Ricky?"

"Sir." Ricky nodded.

I just raised my eyebrows and shook my head. Rich people, men, and empty threats. It's a never ending cycle.

"Now.. Out. Slip the key under the door when you're done and make sure I never see your face again." My stranger seethed.

All that anger. God.

I wondered if he was such a hateful person in general or did he really hate the locksmith with such a passion for a reason that none of us but only he knew about.

Nonetheless, I watched as they left the room, leaving only me and Niklaus.

"Two hours," I sighed under my breath, eyes flickering to him. "How are we going to kill time?"

"That is up to you to decide, Juliet." He answered, "You're the reason I'm in this mess and you're the one who's going to entertain me through the night."

I rolled my eyes, and then sighed again. He wasn't all wrong. I was the reason he was stuck in this mess...

"Okay," I agreed, "We can...play."

"Play?" He repeated with disinterest.

"Yes. Truth or Dare...!" 

"Kids." He rolled his eyes.

Ignoring his comment, I added, "....With a twist. Every time either of us chooses truth aka the cowards way out... we drink a fixed amount of whiskey.. like a whiskey shot."

He still seemed very unconvinced and very disinterested. "Or we could have s*x?" He suggested in the most casual tone possible, "Games are more fun when played naked."

I controlled the urge to roll my eyes. Or gag. Or both. I'm not sure. "Truth and dare, it is."

"Kids." He groaned.

"It will be fun.." I promised him as I dragged him to the two couch chairs in the big suite room with my glass of whiskey in my free hand, being sure that he carried his glass with himself too.

*

"Niklaus," I took his name in a mumble, one of my fingers still playing with my hair, my drunk and slightly sultry eyes falling on him. "That's a weird name, you know."

"I didn't ask for your opinion, Juliet." He replied, still as nonchalant as ever.

"My name isn't... never mind." I scoffed. I couldn't believe I found the man in front of me attractive. And that too in a sober mind. I could definitely see why my tipsy mind would find him attractive. I mean, he was tall. And powerful. And had a devilishly handsome face. And a decent smile. Or smirk. Or whatever. And his biceps...

Alright, never mind.

I gulped, straightening myself on the couch. 

"Time to go ahead with the game," He said, and then added, "Or are you done with it already?"

I snorted, picking up the whiskey bottle and spinning it on the glass table between us. This time, it landed on me.

I could see that very smirk I was talking about earlier spread on his lips. "So, would you take a dare, or have more whiskey and go for the truth?"

He was having way more fun while playing this than I wanted him to. It had been a method to kill time, and I had practically really, really begged him to play it with me. I didn't want to die out of boredom after all.

I was very close to being a full-gone drunk. Pathetically close. "Dare," I say without thinking twice.

"Kiss me."

"What?" My lips part in shock.

"It's a dare, Juliet." He justifies himself, "Kiss me."

My right hand was still handcuffed with his left wrist. We were sitting close, yet as far as possible.

Taking a deep breath, I get up. Turning towards where he was sitting, I bent down, and placed my lips on his.

I bet I caught him by surprise. I knew he wasn't expecting it when he remained still and frozen for a whole second, and then soon enough, his free hand reached to only lightly brush my face with his fingers, our other handcuffed hand remaining right where it was.

I wondered if he could taste the whiskey in my mouth overlapping all the tequila shots I had before, because I could definitely taste the whiskey he had, mixed with something else. Something that strongly tasted like rum. And oddly enough, his breath was still minty.

Oh, and he was an amazing kisser. Amazing. 

I pulled away slightly breathless, mostly intoxicated. I felt dazed when I looked into his brown eyes, which watched me with such intensity that gave me goosebumps, something I hadn't felt in a long time.

And then just as suddenly, I was breathless.

I felt breathless because I was pushed against the wall, and the man who's face I had been secretly admiring all night was in front of mine. So dangerously close.

His left hand was behind my back, my right hand being tucked with it. The free hand on the other side of the wall, holding me in. I could feel my breath being uneven, my heart pounding rapidly in my chest as I visibly gulped. Every little thing on his face was so visible. Like that scar...

He clicked his tongue, as if knowing that my eyes had travelled upwards and to the mark on his forehead, and the second he did that, they flickered right back to him. To his lips.

I could feel him pressing my cuffed hand backwards on the wall, in an almost painful manner. Almost.

That didn't matter.

Because what mattered was his lips were on mine. Again. I was still pressed up against the wall, once again kissing him, it overpowering all my other senses.

I could taste him again, better this time. The whiskey. The rum. The citrus. And that minty breath. For whatever reason, he also tasted of apples.

When he pulled away, I wanted more. I didn't realise how my free hand had slipped to the back of his head, holding his hair. How his free hand had left the wall and was holding my waist.

All I cared about was how he made my heartbeat race. How I wanted him. Then and there.

The kiss wasn't slow and gentle. It was fast and passionate. It screamed lust, as did his eyes when they shut before he dipped his face onto my neck, placing slight feather kisses everywhere.

"Niklaus," I mumbled, breathing shallow and uneven. He was making me feel things...

Me uttering his name in the whispering and moaning mess that I was left to be made him look up, and once again, all I saw was the burning desire in his eyes.

"The handcuffs," I breathed, "They're going to be a problem."

He lifted one corner of his lips in a smug manner, his voice husky and low, "Not if you don't want them to be."

I gulped. "Okay."

He raised his eyebrows, almost amused.

"Okay," I repeated.

"Are you sure?"

I appreciated him asking me, but instead of answer, I just bit my lower lip before kissing him again, letting him pin me to the wall once again.

"Yes," I confirmed when he pulled away, "Yes."

There was not much to think about.

This was just another one night stand in the history of them.

Even if it was with a stranger. To whom I was fatefully handcuffed for the night.