Yara |18+|

20

VICO

"Not exactly what I had in mind," I murmured, sipping on the white wine I had poured for the both of us. "But I don't care." When I asked to take Yara out on a date, I meant take her out on a date.

But that might have been selfish and as I sat next to her at the dinner table, I realised I much preferred being alone with her.

No distractions. No potential mishaps. Just the both of us enjoying each other's company in peace. With her thigh pressed against the side of mine, I watched her finish her food with a stupid fucking smile on my face.

"Me too," she said, swallowing her food. "But I like this. It's...I don't know the word. Safe?"

"Safe," I repeated, grinning at her. "You want more?"

"Not now," Yara whispered, running her hand over her stuffed belly. "I've had enough. Thank you."

I nodded, grabbing both of our empty plates. Standing up, I leaned down and placed a kiss on her forehead only because it felt right in the moment.

She smiled softly, looking up at me as if she had been waiting for it. Was she? I paused, straightening up and telling Yara I'll be right back.

In the kitchen, I dropped our plates in the sink and leaned against the counter. Being with Yara felt good, but almost unrealistically good.

Are we moving too fast? Was there such a thing as moving too fast? I ran my hand over my head, feeling myself starting to stress.

It had been so good seeing her, that I forgot to think—think about Mario or his men who were looking for her. Or her job. Or the fact that she was supposed to be dead.

I had such a memorable time with her that I forgot to ponder on the things that affected us.

My job...could I trust her to keep everything I told her to herself? I dropped my head, breathing in deeply? Did any of this matter? I thought about it until I understood that whatever happened, happened, and I wanted to enjoy Yara until she got sick of me. Or ran away.

"You okay?" a voice asked—a pretty, sultry voice I could've listened to for hours. I turned to Yara, finding her standing in the doorframe in nothing but a white t-shirt on her body.

Her curls were loosened, and I figured she let it down after she had eaten. I grinned, nodding my head.

"I'm good, baby. You okay?" I asked, frowning at her.

"I'm fine," she said, and that's when I realised she had her pants hanging from her hand. Is she leaving?

"You going somewhere?" I questioned, eyeing her hand. Glancing at the clock, I saw that it was starting to reach the early hours of the morning.

Albeit still dark as midnight outside, I wondered why she wanted to leave when she could've spend the night.

"Yes," she said, shattering my entire soul. "I have to get some documents from my house. It's important."

"Right now?" I asked, scowling even when I had no reason to.

"Yes," she chuckled, fixing her pants and quickly stepping into it. When she dragged it over her thighs and jumped to try and get her ass in, I almost laughed but nothing was funny when Yara was leaving for the second time.

Who knows when I'll ever see her again? As she said, she'll come to me and not the other way around.

"I don't want to be seen," she muttered, dragging the zipper and tying the button of her jeans. "And it's quiet right now. Do you have a black hoodie for me?"

"I do," I said, trying to hide that I was sulking like a damn toddler. We didn't even get to dessert, and that was the best part. Yara, on the other hand, seemed amused at me and I raised a brow at her.

I crossed my arms, staring down at her when she approached me and with a cheeky little smile on her face, she whispered, "are you driving or should I?"

Oh.

My arms fell to my sides and I glared at her, slightly mad that she had me going through all of that for nothing "I'm driving."

Yara chuckled, shaking her head as she watched me snatch my keys off the hook. "Of course you are."

What is that supposed to mean?

In twenty minutes, Yara and I were in my car on our way to her home.

It was dark out, and a little windy but that didn't matter. I glanced at her, smirking at our matching black hoodies. What the fuck are doing?

We had a mission, and that was retrieving some documents at Yara's place without anyone noticing us. I could walk right in and not give a fuck, but Yara was the one hiding and I needed to keep her hidden too.

Not forgetting my gun, I tucked it into the back of my pants and added a knife in Yara's pocket too. We could never be too sure. She directed me to her place, telling me where to turn and the roads I needed to take until we reached a suburb I wasn't familiar with.

"You live in the suburbs?" I asked, a little surprised that I didn't know what type of place she'd live in. Truthfully, I expected the city.

Yara told me to take a left and I did, heading down a street that was adorned with white picket fences and neat lawns. She was right, it was extremely quiet. And not just quiet, but still. No people, no movement, no dogs. Nothing.

Living for one week in a house I rarely stayed at was already driving me insane because of how quiet it was.

"I do," she murmured, wiping her hands on her pants.

"I thought you'd live in the city," I told her, only because it seemed as if Yara didn't like the quietness but again, did I really know her?

"I switch it up," she shrugged, pointing at a home that was situated right at the corner. "That's the one. Go around the back, Vico. Neighbours are nosy as fuck." I glanced around, and almost every single house had darkness surrounding it. No lights.

I did as I was told, parking at the back instead of the street. That way, nobody was able to see us moving in or out.

"You coming?" she asked, unbuckling her seatbelt.

I nodded, partially excited to see the inside of her living place. Together, we walked to the back patio door and Yara slid it open. I frowned, seeing that she had left it completely unlocked and we were able to walk right in without a key.

When she flicked the lights on, I knew instantly.

"You don't live here, right?" I asked, watching her roam every cupboard she could find.

"Nope," she deadpanned.

Of course she didn't live there—it was entirely too lifeless. The monotonous furniture and eggshell walls were already draining me and I was in there for half a second.

There were no decorations on the walls too, except a singular trophy in a glass cabinet surrounded by decanters of every size. Whoever that is must be proud of that little trophy.

"You didn't have to lie, Yara," I told her, rolling my eyes.

"Yeah?" she asked, flinging a drawer open to rummage through the pile of papers. "Would you have brought me here if I told you this is Mario's lawyers place?"

"I would have walked you right through the front door," I muttered, meaning it.

I would have taken her there even if said lawyer was sleeping in his bed. It was a bit disheartening, but I didn't let it get to my head.

"Got it!" she muttered, staring at a page in her hand.

It was in exactly that moment when a car's lights flashed into the home as it pulled up the driveway.

• • •

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