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"I like you, in my t-shirt." his voice was low. Dark. Hot.
"I prefer it on the bedroom floor." I tease, although, it wasn't really a joke.
"Ah, you make this so hard for me." he sounded angry, yet he never raised his voice.
"What's...
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I sat next to Elijah on my family's jet. Ana and Atnus sat opposite us and my parents where in a different room entirely.
My nerves weren't as bad as they normally were. My hand was clasped to Elijah's and my leg was lightly tapping against the floor, but other than that, I was rather calm.
Ana and Atnus were deep into their second movie and hadn't acknowledged our existence for the past two hours.
Elijah's and I sat in a comfortable silence however I could sense something was on his mind. Although his demeanour remained calm, the way his eyebrows were slightly furrowed and his jaw was slightly clenched, I could tell something was bothering him.
"What are you thinking?" I asked, needing to know what was getting him so worked up.
"Oh no, don't worry." He brushed me off.
"Querida, If this is going to work, we need to communicate." I said turning to face him in my seat.
"Did you just call me darling in Spanish?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"You have so many names for me, and I don't have one for you, so I gave you one. Now stop evading my question." I answered honestly.
He let out a deep chuckle before placing a soft kiss on my temple.
"You're so cute sometimes." He whispered.
"I'm not cute."
"Yes you are."
"No I'm-" I began, "Answer my question."
"Ok, Ok." He surrendered, "I was just thinking of something your father said earlier."
I nodded my head for him to continue, curious as to what he's wondering.
"He knows exactly where Miguel's safe house is. Why is that?" He asked.
I stilled slightly at his question. I new I'd have to tell him at some point. I mean, it isn't really a secret. But the story isn't the nicest to tell.
"Hey," He said, noticing my slight discomfort, "You don't have to tell me if your not ready."
"No, no." I shook my head, "I want to tell you."
He smiled at the fact I was finally opening up to him. It warmed my heart knowing he cared.
"Miguel shouldn't rightfully be the Don of the Mexican Mafia." I started, inhaling a deep breathe. "Miguel and my father are brothers."
Elijah's eyes widened for a second, pure shock taking over his features.
My father was a year older than Miguel, meaning he was the heir to the Spanish Mafia.
