My Roommate Is A Greek God (ON HOLD)

9| My Roommate Is A Criminal

9| My Roommate Is A Criminal

dedicated to you, yeah you. That one person that's reading. Yes I'm talking to you who is reading this word for word, I am talking to a specific someone and that's you. 'You' isn't just somebody that you think I know personally, 'you' is the reader that's literally reading. Like seriously guys, this is dedicated to you.

The apartment was quiet that night. And I didn't like it, it caused tension and I wasn't good with tension.

"Do you...." I trailed off, "want to speak about it?" The question was stupid, yet not stupid at the same time.

"No." Sasha said simply and I looked at him puzzled. He wasn't the angsty Sasha back at the restaurant, now he had smug look complimented with a smirk. "I want you to come over here." He tapped the spot on the couch next to him.

"What?" I was so dumbfounded and wondered if he had bi polar disorder. "Did we just have the same evening?"

"We did," he nodded, "but I've had nights like that for the past twenty or so years, you're fine."

"Sasha," I couldn't believe that he just said that. I ran everything through my mind, the language, the fiancée business, the warning and the slap. "How can you expect me not to ask questions after what happened."

"What happened?" He asked oblivious. My right eye twitched. I knew what game he was playing at. Before I reply he put his hand on my waist and roughly tossed me so I was straddling his lap. "And according to the time, it's still my birthday."

My cheeks flushed at the sudden closeness and for that fact that I had forgotten it was his birthday. "Happy fucking birthday." I said and punched him in the shoulder.

"Oh fucking sounds nice," he replied and my eyes widen with surprise at his vulgarity. Even after I've seen him naked he can make me blush.

"Can you not speak like that?" I asked quickly avoiding eye contact with the beautiful man.

"Why?" He said pulling me closer so our faces were centimeters apart.

"Sasha, stop." I said flustered. My eyes were darting place to place, anywheres besides his.

"Look at me," he said in a husky tone pressing his forehead against mine. That's when I noticed everything was getting real and I was no longer playing.

"What are you doing?" I asked him in a a serious tone but I don't think he heard. The close contact, the forehead touching, the centimeters between our lips. He was close to breaking a rule of the contract; to kiss.

"I'm doing nothing." He said nonchalantly as pulled away and his back dived into the couch. A playful smile was on his lips, and i stared at him like he had two heads. When I didn't say anything he continued. "Tonight's been one of those nights I wanna forget about, don't blame me for trying to rush things into the bedroom." He shrugged.

"Besides I know you've been waiting for tonight." He urged further.

"Why do you say that?" I asked a smile out awkwardness daring on my lips.

"Because you haven't left my lap, you legs are still on either side of me. But it's ok, I like when the woman is dominant."

"Just shut up and let's go." And with that he lifted me up and we spent the night in his room.

.

.

.

I looked at the clock and it read 3:45 a.m. I was laying in Sasha's bed, our bodies intertwined with our own limbs and sheets.

I got up from the bed, carefully not to wake him up and went outside into the bathroom. After using it and flushing, I went over to the sink and looked at myself in the mirror. My light makeup was smeared and my hair was unruly. With a sigh I headed back into his bedroom.

I noticed one of his hands was placed in one of the drawers in his nightstand. I lightly walk over to his draw to take his hand out and close the drawer but I wasn't able to complete the job, as I saw what was in the drawer.

It was gun. A fricking gun.

Before I could touch the gun, I felt his quickly wrap around my wrist. My heart skilled several beats and I looked at him dead in the eye. I was scared for my life. His gaze was worry and angry at the same time.

"W-w-what-" I could barely form a sentence let alone a word. My brain was mush as I couldn't find a simple good answer to this situation. And I always find a solution.

"What are you doing?" He asked in an angry tone.

"What are you doing with a gun?" I asked back, my worried eyes widening.

"Its complicated." He stated. My mom was agape. I didn't know what to say because I had infinite replies.

"It should be important enough for you have this." I said referring to the gun.

A beat.

"Do I even want to know?" I asked.

"No you don't."

"But I think I need to know."

"Just drop it."

"Are you serious, you cannot be."

"Ok fine," he spat in a venomous tone and the atmosphere got ten degrees colder, "this," he took the gun out of the drawer and waved it around, "is for protection. I'm in trouble."

"What do mean by trouble?" I was practically shaking with fear and was the brink of shedding tears because, right now, he had the power to take my life away. I didn't want to know the answer but I needed to know the answer. And I knew it also involved his family as well. "Just tell me, please."

His eyes narrowed at me and softened up alittle. "It's not something I want to talk about." He put the gun back in the draw, "and the information...isn't the easiest to handle. It's not common either."

A beat. Two beats. Three.

"I...my family...we're a mob family. We are in the Mafia. It's not the cleanest job and plus with the way I am, going against whatever bullshit code my dad believes in, moving out of Romania...plus I've done some pretty gruesome things. I've managed to go 'missing.' It's not a surprise I'm on a few got lists." He confessed, his face held no emotion whereas I was a flare of emotions. So many of them ran through my head and I didn't know what to do.

Even with that tidbit of a confession, I knew there was more, but I didn't want to know what. This information alone, made me want to run from him and that's what I did.

I stumbled back away from him with glossy eyes. He's done messy stuff, his family is in trouble, they were in the mafia, he was probably on a hit list, probably more than one. He was a criminal.

I've let a criminal into my home, I've let him..fuck me. I have him a bed, I've met his family, I've spoken to him about some stuff I haven't even told my best friends.

As I stumbled back away some more, he got up from the bed. Then it became some sort of game. Every step back I took, he stepped forward. But I wasn't laughing and he wasn't smiling. He actually looked regretful.

"Solana," my name shouldn't ever be a word for him to utter again, "I would never hurt you, you know that."

"I-I don't believe you," tears were threatening to escape and they did, "h-how can I even.." Then I dashed out of the room to my own bedroom without even looking back. I shut the door and locked it.

end.

Next Chapter: My Roommate Can't Sleep