The Assassin's Mask: Daynara and Nicholas

Chapter 4: Not Fun

Daynara

My head is pounding like a drum, and my mouth is as dry as a desert. Jaw tight, I rise from the bed and rush to the restroom. Once I take a shower, I feel steadier. I look at my discarded clothing and grimace. There’s no way I’m wearing that.

I’m about to leave the bedroom in a towel when I spot one of Nicholas’ shirts. He must have left it for me to wear. Seeing that I have no choice, I slip it on and grimace. The shirt might fall to my knees, but I don’t feel secure, considering I’m not wearing anything beneath it.

Closing my eyes, I review the events of the night. Embarrassment spreads through my body when I recall vomiting in some bushes. But I quickly push it away. There’s no point in worrying about something I cannot change. I brush my hair and dry it, but soon I realize I can't stall any longer. I must face Nicholas.

My heart beats wildly inside my chest, and my body heats at the prospect of seeing him again. My trepidation is warranted because this is the man who, years ago, irrevocably broke my heart.

My mind spins at the turn of events from last night. Suspicion sits in my mind. I wonder if Père using this as a way to keep me under his thumb. Nicholas might be a control freak, but Père takes it beyond a psychotic level.

My steps are hesitant as I walk out of the bedroom. I rub my wrist and flex my hand as the old ache returns. The apartment is lovely with all of its French features and accents. Eventually, I find Nicholas sitting at the breakfast table of his stunningly modern kitchen. Nicholas blends in perfectly here with his tailored suit and aura of elegance. For a moment, I observe as he gazes down at his tablet and pours himself a cup of coffee. The natural light from the large picture window creates a halo across his broad shoulders and chestnut hair.

When his shoulders stiffen, I realize he’s alerted to my presence. As confidently as possible, I stride forward until I stand in front of the table.

I don't know what to expect. Will Nicholas scold me for my behavior, or will he ignore me? To my surprise, Nicholas lowers his tablet, rises from his seat, and pulls out a chair for me, “Sit and have some café. It will make you feel better.”

I want to refute his claim and say I’m fine, but the pounding in my head won’t let me.

I try not to fidget beneath his intense gaze as I take a seat. I’m not used to being so underdressed in front of anyone. I like to think of my clothes as my armor.

While I sip my coffee, Nicholas leans forward and hands me some toast before he turns back to his tablet.

“So, what’s the plan?” I ask, breaking the silence, “Is Père coming to get me?”

The idea has merit because I can always find a way to escape before I reach the airport. There’s no way I’m going to let Père trap me again. I’ve suffered enough by his hands to know I will not survive long under his care. Not when I took something he desperately wanted.

Nicholas quirks a brow at my turn of phrase, “Unfortunately, it’s not that easy, Mon petit. As much as Dion wants you back home, the moment he or any of his assassins appear, your life will be forfeit.”

My heart stalls in my chest at his words, “What? Then what am I supposed to do?”

Nicholas’ jaw pops when he steadily replies, “You will stay in this apartment until the issue is resolved with whoever is making these threats against you.”

I shake my head, “I don’t buy this, Nicholas. What if Père is lying about this to get me back home? He wasn’t too happy when he learned I was traveling abroad. I wouldn’t put it past him to make this situation up.”

There’s so much more I want to say about my Père’s intentions, but I keep that darkness to myself. Nicholas can never know the terrors I faced while in my Père’s care. He doesn’t have the right after he abandoned me all those years ago.

Nicholas’ brow furrows, “Dion knows better than to involve our people. Logan is a powerful entity in our company, and Dion wouldn’t dare cross him and risk his position.”

I shrug, trying to devise a plausible reason, “Maybe Père thought Logan would have someone retrieve me and put me on the next flight. I’m sure he didn’t count on Logan sending you.”

Nicholas looks forward thoughtfully, “He wasn’t happy about it, but he knew what was at stake. Even Dion knows better than to put his daughter at risk to get her back home.”

I cynically scoff. If Nicholas only knew that saving my life is very low on Père ’s list of things he cares about, “You don’t know the extent Père would go to keep me under his control or the extent I had to go through to escape his grasp.”

Nicholas gives me a curious look, but before he asks for a follow-up on my comment, I mutter, “Fine, then I’m staying here with you. Am I supposed to wear this…” I gesture to the shirt he lent me, “…until the day I’m free again? It’s not like I packed for this little adventure, and I’m sure you won’t let me go back to my hotel to gather my things.”

Nicholas takes another sip of his coffee before he rests it back on its plate and replies, “There’s a boutique nearby where we can purchase some garments for you.”

“Are you sure you can trust total strangers not to help me escape?” I growl sarcastically.

Of course, Nicholas does not read into my sarcasm when he replies, “I know the owner well. She will be discrete.”

I want to scream and rail at him at that moment. I can’t believe Père has managed to find a way to trap me again. For years, I plotted to escape Père, to the point that I had to take extreme measures until he let me go. But somehow, the bastard has found a way to force me back to his home. To add insult to injury, he sent the man who made me lose all faith in love to collect me.

But I have a plan. I won’t ever let Père get his way again. Not if I want to live because I know my Père ’s intentions are not noble.

I take one last bite of my toast before I rise from my chair, “Great, let me slip into some shoes and make myself as presentable as I can in this,” I flutter the hem of the shirt between my fingers and walk away.

Seeing that I can’t wear my clothes from last night, I take the thin belt I wore with my shorts, wrap it around Nicholas’ borrowed shirt, and tuck it in until it looks like a trendy shirtdress. I try not to think about my faded scars or lack of underwear as I dress. Once I’ve slipped on my espadrilles, I comb out my hair and put on some lip gloss until I feel somewhat presentable.

Nicholas’ heated expression when he sees my attire makes me nearly change my mind about what I plan to do. But I know there’s no going back. Not if I want to live.

Before we walk out the door, Nicholas stops and hands me a straw sun hat and sunglasses, “Put these on until we reach the boutique. I don’t want to risk discovery.”

I don’t argue as I slip the items on and follow him to his vehicle.

The boutique turns out to be a very trendy upscale shop. My lips widen at the shop’s classic cream interior. It looks like something out of a French magazine with its elegant picture windows bordered by intricate white wood molding, white and gray marble floor, and powder pink walls. The clothing is also trendy and classic. My delight with the store grows sour when a tall blond woman with supermodel looks approaches us and begins to gush over Nicholas in French.

“Nicolas, comment vas-tu chérie ? Cela fait longtemps que nous ne nous sommes pas parlé.” Nicolas, how are you darling? It's been a long time since we spoke to each other.

My blood pressure rises when she wraps her arms around him and kisses his cheeks. I want to say I’m not jealous, but there’s no denying the bitter resentment that is boiling in my belly. I want to rip the woman’s short bob from her scalp and claw out her eyes.

Nicholas gives the female a welcoming nod and says, “Ça faisait longtemps, Babette. J'apprécie que vous preniez le temps de m'aider.” It's been a long time, Babette. I appreciate you taking the time to help me with this matter.

Babette glances back at me, her smile as fake as her lashes, but she doesn’t speak to me. Instead, she turns back to Nicholas and mutters, “Je suis toujours heureux d'aider un bel homme. De quoi as-tu besoin chérie?” I'm always happy to help a handsome man. What do you need, darling?

Before Nicholas can reply, I step forward and give her my best superior smile and retort in perfect French, “Je suis à la recherche d'une nouvelle garde-robe car la mienne a été abîmée et Nicholas m'a gentiment suggéré votre boutique.” I am looking for a new wardrobe since mine was damaged and Nicholas kindly suggested your store.

Babette’s expression goes sour when she realizes I speak French, but she quickly recovers and says, “Bien sûr, je peux aider avec ça,” she runs her gaze across my curvy frame and snickers, “Il va falloir faire une recherche approfondie puisque vous êtes... plus voluptueux que nos clients habituels. Cependant, nous essaierons. Que recherchez vous exactement?” We’re going to have to do a thorough search since you are... more voluptuous than our usual customers. However, we will try. What exactly are you looking for?

Nicholas’ eyes narrow at her catty comment but I’m not the type of woman who lets a man defend me or another woman put me down. Instead, I move close to Nicholas, lean my hand on his right shoulder and retort, “Je peux voir que votre boutique s'adresse à des silhouettes plus flatter, mais je suis sûr que nous pouvons trouver quelque chose d'adéquat dans votre petite boutique. Nicholas aime quand je montre mon ventre plat et mes jambes. Donc je veux quelque chose de sexy.” I can see your shop caters to curveless silhouettes, but I'm sure we can find something suitable in your little shop. Nicholas likes it when I show off my flat stomach and my legs. So, I want something sexy.

Nicholas glances down at me and snickers before he meets Babette’s gaze, “Donnez à Daynara tout ce dont Elle a besoin et mettez-le sur mon compte.” Give Daynara everything she needs and put it on my account.

Babette looks like she sucked a lemon when she guides me through the shop. However, I ignore her look and sort through the racks until I find a strappy floral dress that molds to my breasts, a two-piece beige crop top with matching flared plaid shorts, blue high-rise jean shorts, and a razor-back crop top, and a floral print Florence cami with white sailor shorts. While Babette tries to engage Nicholas in conversation, I slip into one of the dressing rooms and try on a sexy cream-colored lace bra and thong.

This time I resist rubbing my wrist as I slip on my dress. I appraise myself in the mirror and grimace. Though I can’t see my scars, I can still feel the pain I endured for so many years.

Babette knocks on the door and calls out, “Avez-vous besoin d'aide pour quoi que ce soit?” Do you need help with anything?

I can hear her say something to Nicholas, which makes me feel brave. Without a thought, I open the door and smile. Babette gives me an envious look while Nicholas remains stoic.

“What do you think?” I raise my hands and pose.

Nicholas’ expression is shuttered as he faces Babette and says, “Pouvez-vous nous excuser un instant, Babette?” Can you excuse us a moment, Babette?

Babette nods and narrows her eyes toward me as she walks away.

Once she has disappeared, Nicholas pulls me back into the dressing room and growls, “What are you doing?”

I give him an innocent shrug, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His cobalt eyes narrow as he glares down at me, “This isn’t a game, Daynara.”

A shiver creeps up my spine at the sound of his dulcet, French accent. A creole accent isn’t out of the ordinary in New Orleans. However, Nicholas’s French origins make his accent more refined compared to the sometimes-butchered down-home creole dialect heard back home.

I provocatively arch my back and twist my hair between my fingers before leaning close and whispering, “I’m just trying things on. Do you like it or not?”

Nicholas’ eyes wander down my body, his eyes heating and his breath hitching as he takes in my curves in the dress.

Reaching up, I place my hand under his chin and smile. Nicholas’ nostrils flare. I can feel he’s at his breaking point, but I also know he’s the kind of man who retreats when he feels he’s losing control.

His jaw pops when he steps back and grits, “Finish trying the rest of your clothes. I’ll meet you out front once you’ve processed the sale.”

Babette appears a moment later, but I quickly divert her when I hand her a pile of clothes and tell her to bag them up.

I don’t hesitate to implement my plan once she has left the room. Slipping out of the dress, I put on a pair of shorts and a crop top before I quietly sneak out of the dressing room. While Babette is distracted, I take some cute flats and rush out the door.

I run for nearly ten minutes until I’m sure no one is following. Not knowing what to do, I go to a nearby pharmacy. The man behind the counter kindly agrees to let me use their phone.

The sweet elderly pharmacist points to a phone booth in the back of the store. A nostalgic smile spreads across my face when I see the phone booth. Phone booths don’t exist in the US, but European countries seemed to hold on to some. Ramona and I found one when we visited Spain last week and took pictures of us in it for her social media site.

Slipping into the booth, I enter the permission code I bought in the US before my trip, pay for the call, and dial Ramona’s number.

The call is on its third ring when the booth’s doors, whoosh, open, and Nicholas appears.

His expression is cold and unyielding as he disconnects the call, takes me by the elbow, and pulls me out of the booth.

“Please, just let me go, Nicholas.” I hiss.

Nicholas’s jaw clenches as he leads me out the door. I attempt to run, but he quickly catches me in his arms and carries me to a private area between the buildings.

I flail my arms and struggle against his grip until he pushes me against a wall, caging me between his arms, and growls, “Do you realize what could have happened if your Père’s enemies caught you? I can’t protect you if you continue fighting me.”

I push at his chest, my anger burning bright, “Can’t you understand that I don’t need your protection? You have this idea that keeping me locked up for my safety is okay, but it’s all bullshit because you’re the reason I’m in danger!” I emphasize my truth by striking my fists against his chest.

Nicholas grips my wrists and pushes my arms behind my back, pulling my body against his.

My chest heaves and my body thrums at his closeness. All thoughts of running fade from my mind to be replaced with need as I gaze into his striking eyes. I can’t help what I do next as I angle my head towards his until our lips are brushing.

At first, I think Nicholas is going to push me away. But to my surprise, he crushes his lips to mine. Our kiss is not sweet or gentle. No, this kiss is brutal and intense, showcasing our desperation after many years apart.

Loosening my arms from his grip, I cling to his shoulders hungrily as our tongues and lips explore. I had forgotten how earth-shattering kissing Nicholas is. It’s so all-consuming that it makes me forget everything else. Not even the fact that he broke my heart matters. His hands explore my spine and ass as he pulls me closer. My n*****s swell, and my thighs quiver until I’m nearly blind with desire. Just as I’m about to beg him to take me to bed, Nicholas pulls me behind him and turns his back to me.

“What…?” Before I can finish my question, Nicholas pulls out his weapon and faces a large form advancing toward us. The man is big and bulky. His lips are pulled back into a snarl as he waves a gun at us.

“Give me the woman!” he growls.

Nicholas tilts his head and narrows his eyes, his gun steadily trained on the man. He doesn’t say anything, which seems to unnerve the man.

My head pounds, and my heart skips with trepidation as the man approaches.

“I won’t ask you again!” he roars.

Within seconds, Nicholas shoots the man’s hand, punches him in the leg as he falls to his knees, and stomps his face until the man loses consciousness.

I observe as he zip-ties the man’s wrists and pushes him behind a rubbish bin before he makes a phone call. His eyes meet mine, but it’s as if he isn’t seeing me. His expression is dark and deadly.

I’m seeing Voodoo, the killer.

Once he has disconnected the call, he approaches me and appraises my appearance, “We should go,” he mutters.

I guess we’re going to pretend the kiss didn’t happen.

“What about him?” I point to the unconscious man on the ground.

Nicholas looks at the man and replies, “I have someone coming to pick him up,” he extends his hand to me, “Let’s go.”

Taking his hand, I follow him back to the car. Not a word is spoken on the way. I don’t know how I feel about everything that just happened. It’s been a cacophony of events, and it’s barely noon. From running away to the great kiss and the near capture, I can’t piece together all the tumultuous emotions I’m feeling.

In my head, I had convinced myself that Père had orchestrated the situation to get me back home.

Pushing my hair back, I make a beeline for the guest bedroom, but before I do, Nicholas takes me by the forearm and turns me to face him.

“Running away from me was a very foolish thing to do,” he growls.

My back stiffens at his cold tone.

“How did you find me?” I ask.

Nicholas shakes his head, “Do you think I’d so carelessly leave you unguarded? I saw you leave the moment you stepped out of the changing room. Dion is a director in our organization, with many criminal entities worldwide that would jump at the opportunity to hurt someone he loves. As soon as you made the call, Dion’s enemies identified your location and dispatched their minions to collect you. What were you thinking?”

I gaze into his eyes defiantly, “I don’t know, Nicholas. I guess…” I swallow hard before I reply, “I just feel that this is one of the Père’s plans to manipulate me into returning home.”

Nicholas’ eyes narrow when he rigidly states, “This is not a jest, Chérie. You took a foolish risk that nearly cost you your life.”

I refuse to answer, which seems to incite him further. His cobalt eyes fiercely gleam as he crowds me against a nearby wall, “Next time you choose to run away, I will bring you back here and put you in restraints. Do you understand?”

I place my hands flat against the wall to keep myself from touching him. His commanding tone and sexy demeanor make the submissive inside me ache.

“I never asked for this,” I murmur.

Nicholas’ jaw clenches when I don’t acknowledge his words, and my thighs quiver when he coldly growls, “It’s up to you if you wish for things to be easy or difficult. Just remember I do not make empty threats, Mon petit.”

“Yeah, I know,” I whisper before I turn away from his alluring eyes.

A breeze spreads across my chest when he pulls away and leads me to the apartment.

“I need to call Ramona,” I mutter.

Nicholas hands me a burner phone, “You have five minutes.”

I take the phone and head to the room, Nicholas following closely behind me.

To my surprise, I find several shopping bags lying on the bed.

Nicholas’ delicious accent rolls across my back when he huskily mutters in my ear, “I asked Babette to deliver your garments. I expect you to put away every item in the correct place before I come back from my meeting. I’m sure you’ll do what I ask rather than irritate me further, won’t you, Chérie?” he deeply inhales before he continues, “Am I making myself clear?”

A sigh escapes my lips, and my body quivers at his sexy command. I know I should tell him to shove his orders, but after all the trouble I put him through, I choose to comply.

Closing my eyes tightly, I step away from his heat and nod slowly.

Once the door closes, I rub my wrist firmly before I make a quick call to my friend and start putting everything away.

As I unpack, I smile when I find several items I didn’t pick. A beautiful white cap-sleeved summer dress, a strappy lilac nightdress, and several sexy panty and bra sets. I don’t know how to feel about any of it.