The Story of Blood and Roses Chapter 122 He Does Care

"I was the best choice you ever made." A c.o.c.ky smile spread across his lips and he leaned towards the table.

"Why, Mia... I believe that you, making the choice of barging into my room was the best choice you ever made." And the smugness that was ever present on his present, glowed like the sun. I looked away with a roll of my eyes and stared at the back of the computer monitor.

"It was one h.e.l.l of a sparring session, wasn't it?" I chuckled, remembering how revolted I had been when he had made some crude remarks.

"It was." Something in his voice makes me snap my head towards his direction. The look he has in his eyes makes me stiffen. My lungs refuse to suck in the air that it needs. I just stare at him for a moment or two, wondering how I was going to escape the charm of this man. "They do say practice makes perfect," he suggested in the most innocent tone he could muster. A shocked chuckle left me, and he soon joined me in the laughter that followed.

"Smart-a.s.s."

The door opened then. We looked towards the door; Anthony just glanced up while I craned my neck to see a guy whom I had seen a few times in the mansion. He was panting like he had run a marathon. Sweat rolled down from his forehead and soaked his shirt. As far as I knew, he worked with Sean in the air-conditioned room and it wasn't even much of a distance from the room to Anthony's office. Interested in what he had to say, we waited patiently for him to catch his breath.

"We found out the person she was making calls to." I gripped the chair I was in and swivelled to face the guy. He was my age and looked awfully tired. He stopped his rant for a few moments, staring at me openly.

See? He does care... a bit.

"To whom were the calls made, Michael?" Anthony's stern voice snapped the guy from his staring. He cleared his throat in embarra.s.sment and then fiddled with the soaked collar of his T-shirt. I quirked a brow at him, and waved my hand, imploring him to continue before one of us snapped at him and scared him.

"The number is registered under the name of someone named Scott Bashov." His eyes flitted between our faces. My chair swivelled around towards Anthony to find that he was already looking at me.

"So, they're using a number Scott bought." I nodded my head.

"It's a clear challenge if you ask me. They know that you did away with Scott and if he was one of Darcy's confidants. Darcy is going to want to get back at you." His eyes widened suddenly and then realization seeped in. "What is it?" I asked, incapable of holding my curiosity in.

"An eye for an eye," he said as if it was the easiest thing to understand on this planet.

"I can't seem to grasp where you are going with this."

"It's Scott's life for yours. You know how we work. Everything has a balance. We are vengeful beings, so we take the same things that the others take from you."

"So, you think they want to kill me in exchange for Scott's death?" he nodded eagerly. "I don't like the enthusiasm to are displaying, Boss," I joked, but in a clipped tone.

"Michael, thank you. You may leave," his command rang through the room. As we heard the door close behind us, we just stared at each other for a moment.

"If that was the case, then they would want Ethan, not me," I reasoned, breaking the silence.

"That's where you are wrong." I quirked a brow, demanding an explanation.

"Ethan is the brute. They know that he has been around for a long time and can defend himself."

"But so could Scott."

"Don't interrupt me, Mia. Let me finish," he scolded me.

"They don't know you, nor how able you are and therefore as a girl you are an easy target." I wanted to protest, but I could understand where he was coming from. The underworld was a deeply patriarchal society where women were p.a.w.ns and mediums of exchange; it was not uncommon for a woman to be deemed weak despite her being the second to the Boss of an able mob. It just didn't matter to them. "They probably think that you landed the job because you were good in bed." I rolled my eyes because that is a stupid a.s.sumption to make. "Men do weirder things when it comes to women, Mia. Don't roll your eyes at the pa.s.sion in the heart of a man. We are blind when it comes to our women." He winks at me.

"What is with you and calling me your woman?" I ask him rudely.

"I think it's the idea of being domesticated... civilized by a woman that fascinates me. I suppose the idea of having someone to take care of me at the end of the day, the touch of a female is something that I have craved since I got into hiding," he whispered. His eyes fluttered towards the door as if to check that it was locked. His voice was tight but confident as if feeling soothed by the fact that he was able to make the most difficult and dark confession.

"Is that why you kept Cienna around?" I asked him, thoughtfully. He shook his head.

"That was a product of another complex I seem to possess. I have a thing for saving people," he snickered.

"Isn't it weird for a mob boss to be as pa.s.sionate about saving people as you are? I mean, having a savior complex is okay, but when you're in the business all you see are strays. Who do you pick and who do you leave behind?"

"I pick the people with the most potential." Pride seeped from the tenor of his voice.

"So, I am a stray you saw potential in?" He smirked.

"You, my dear kitten, are not a stray. But you do have potential. On top of that, you fit the whole bill with the feminine touch. Might I add that you are an expert with giving people head ma.s.sages?" I groan as the words play over in my head.

"That sounds so wrong, Anthony!"

"You know what? Now that you and I are buddies... why don't you start calling me Michael?" My head tilts to a side as I praise his face. This beautiful killer was giving me a very special part of him that no one else had.

"Why does he call you that?" I ask him, not only out of curiosity but because I have no idea what to make out of his request. Had I any right to call him by a nickname that was given to him by someone he had known for most of his life and trusted to call into his bedroom and treat him while he was most vulnerable? Was I the person that he should trust with his life? I was honored that he thought I was capable, but...

"You will have to ask him that."

"Why?"

"Because that is his story to tell. And to be honest, he's a much better storyteller than I will ever be," he admits before getting up from his seat. "I'll go take a nap. I need to be fresh for tomorrow." I nod.

"They know that we are coming. Cienna called them," I said. I was sure that she had. "What will we do?"

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