Leroy Kingston.
He is dangerous. He is ruthless and he craves revenge.
As a mafia boss, he's used to simply taking lives out without even blinking. Why didn't it work with Katrina? Was it the fear in those sky-blue eyes that made him start thinkin...
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"Leroy," I gasp and try to blink the tears away that are blocking my vision.
Just as I'm about to reach for his arm with my other hand too, he just gently swats it away and blows out the thick smoke. I start coughing and turn my head away as I scan the wall to see if there's anything I can grab onto.
I trust him to drop me because this height wouldn't kill me, it would just break all my bones.
Whimpering, I dig my fingernails into his skin, because if he really lets go of my forearm, I will fall. Leroy grits his teeth but says nothing.
"So, I understand your words now, that you will most likely just say no at the altar, am I right?" he asks me, looking down at me with interest. Wide-eyed, I stare at the burning stalk in front of me, which is damn close to my arm, and a dark foreboding creeps over me. No, he doesn't want to do that, does he?
"Leroy... What are you up to?", I croak, not taking my eyes off the cigarette. Leroy smirks and takes another deep drag, causing the cigarette to burn further. If this keeps up, the ash is going to fall on my arm or face and it's going to fucking hurt.
"To be honest, I don't want to hurt you, chica. You're confused, hurt, and just plain exhausted and that's why I'm not going to play rough with you," he begins, looking down at me with a sigh. I tear my eyes open in amazement. If this isn't the hard way, then what is it?
"And I'm pretty tired somewhere too," he adds, pressing his lips together before taking another drag. I grit my teeth and feel myself only getting angrier at his words.
"You're such a...-," I'm about to start and want to hurl a nasty insult at him, when he lets go of my arm a few inches, making me cry out in shock.
"I won't marry you," I bring out between clenched teeth and try to hold onto him again with my other hand, but he pushes it away one more time, at which I can only growl. "Leroy, I'm going to fall! This isn't funny anymore!"
"I never joke around." He returns my gaze seriously and once again takes a drag on the cigarette, where the burning stub is about to fall. I bite my lower lip straining, feeling sweat roll down my forehead and tickle me.
"You're going to burn me. You say you don't want to hurt me, but you do."
"Oh please, that's hardly painful, just a little beauty mark," he smirks, seeming genuinely amused. My features slip at his words.
The guy is sick.
He's just sick.
"Leroy," I try again, but he interrupts me.
"The longer you drag it out, the greater the possibility that you'll be marked with burns... and have all your bones broken," he replies impassively, glancing at the ground before smiling thinly. "Pretty high, but it won't kill you."
