His Indulgence || Book Two

Revelation

Alessandra's POV:

I passed under the light so fast, Rico didn't notice me at all. Not only that but, the wig didn't help show my real identity either.

However, I could see him now, and I knew he couldn't see me, giving how he stared hard at me with blazing, bloodthirsty eyes. He had been my ultimate distraction. Considering that I had been so dismayed, it costed me greatly.

If it was anyone else, I would've pulled the trigger long ago— but it wasn't. It was him.

One brief second of distraction was all Rico needed to get the upper hand. And so, he took advantage of my astounded state of mind and managed to flip the gun on me.

I tried to fight back, but it was no use. He was a raging storm during a fight. A storm so powerful, no one could win against.

The person I'd undoubtedly would take a bullet for, was about to pull the trigger on me. That alone left me in so much pain and astonishment.

The man I'd kill for— was about to kill me.

My arms fell to my sides, and I gasped out to him, the only words I could say before he'd pull the trigger. "Rico, it's me."

His expression was so cold and deadly, though after I said those few words— I noticed his eyes soften ever so slightly. My soft voice awakened the familiarity in his mind. Comprehension washed down his face after he began to process my voice. He was finally beginning to understand who I was.

He still held the gun at me, but after a couple more tense seconds, he tucked the weapon behind his waistband. 

Rico gulped, incredulously, and stepped to the edge of the light, "Mon trésor?"

Rico called me mon trésor, meaning his treasure in French. And in that instant, I felt my heart race against my chest just as it always had when we were once together.

I drew in a shaky breath and took a large stride under the light.

I heard him take a small gasp, taking in my features as well as I did. "I don't understand this." He shook his head in disbelief.

I felt my fingers tremble at my sides, "I thought you were dead," I choked out, the tears streaming down my cheeks, "How could you have disappeared like that?"

He came up beside me, still under the light, and held my face in his hands. His thumb wiped the tears off, still coaxing my cheek. "I want to tell you, but I can't."

"Bullshit," I interrupted, the anger in my words shocked me, "After all these years of misery, I deserve an explanation! It's the least you could do."

He pulled me in close, and held me tight. His firm arms around my frame reminded me of how I had always dreamt and reminisced them to be. To be in his arms once again, was absolutely unbelievable.

I heard his swallow hard, and he pressed on silently, almost ashamed. "That night at the Russian mafia's house, a bomb had went off so close to me, it had nearly killed me. The leader found me dying, and knew who I was. He offered a deal in exchange for him killing me— either I work for him as a hitman. . ." He cleared his throat and whispered out, "Or he'd kill you."

"Rico," I breathed out. I was annoyed at the leader for coming between us, and wasting all our youthful years we could've spent together. But instead, they were filled with hurt, sorrow, and despair. All of that time— never able to take back.