The extent he’ll go…

CASSANDRA

~*~

“Well? Does anyone care to explain?”

I closed my eyes and let my head drop and relaxed against the pool table. I let out a shaky breath as Marco’s hand slid off my neck, he purposefully let it slide down my body as he pulled it away. He gave me one last look up and down before turning around to face Christiano. “Well-”

“Cassandra,” In the silence of the room, I could hear his powerful footsteps coming closer to us. I was panting heavily on the table when he slid his hand under my shoulder and helped me sit up. His hand was warm and surprisingly smooth. “Who brought up this party, huh?” He left his hand on my shoulder and studied me, running the other one gingerly against my swollen and damp cheek.

Odd, I hadn’t even realized I was crying before now. I flinched and turned my head away from his careful hand.

I turned my gaze to Marco and then to the floor. The b*st*rd was smiling, and I couldn’t bear to see it again.

“What can I say?” He shrugged, “I was so impressed with her delivery the other night, I went to thank her and introduce myself, and I could see she was new.” He paused, I imagined him feigning hurt now. “She just hit me with her d*mn tray, from there things got out of hand.”

Christiano took a step away from me only now holding my hand as I descended from the pool table, slowly, shakily. Christiano shrugged his suit jacket off and draped it over my shoulders. He turned from me and took a step towards Marco.

“Come on, man.” Marco continued, taking a step backward. I wondered if it was an intentional show of submission, or if he was opening up the field in challenge. “You know me, you know I’m one of the best out there. Your chief corrupter even! When have I ever lied to you?” He dragged.

Christiano nodded, “Well, then,” He grabbed me suddenly and pulled me to him, forcing my head into his chest and pulling his gun out. “You’re one of my best.” He agreed.

I tried to push myself away, even with just his one hand on the back of my neck, he was so strong and held such control over me. He was going to shoot me right in the head. If I had known this was how it was going to end, I wouldn’t have gone along with this whole ‘charade’ for this long. After all of this, I was going to die anyway. Everything I’d gone through to keep myself alive, all the ridiculous clothes and the annoying predators, it was all for nothing. I was going to die regardless.

Bang.

Everything went blank, my body stopped fighting against him. Being shot and dying didn’t feel at all like I thought it would. I expected it to hurt a lot, maybe even feel numb, cold perhaps? I felt exactly the way I did before, I couldn’t feel my blood pouring out anywhere or the world closing in on me… in fact… I could still hear my pulse pounding in my ears, I could still feel the warmth of his hand on the back of my neck, my cheek still throbbing with pain. It took my mind a few embarrassing moments before it caught up with the rest of the world. I hadn’t been shot. And, the most hilarious part was, once I actually opened my eyes, the world wasn’t black anymore. I had instinctively snapped them shut when I heard the gun go off and had only assumed my death.

I didn’t move. The force of Christiano’s grip was gone, and now, his hand on my neck was almost a sign of… endearment, protection, like he was trying to be supportive or something. As if.

“Anyone else has something they would like to do or say to any of our lovely female guests?” His voice was loud, and it carried strongly across the quiet room. He looked all around the room. Silence. “Anyone?” Still no response, then he boomed, “Well, all f*ck*ng right then.”

He pulled the trigger and the gun boomed again, and then, once more. Three times he’d shot Marco, just like my phone. Without a word or command after the third, the room returned to life. He put his gun back in the holster as voices began exchanging conversations and laughs, drinks were served and asses were slapped. I lifted my head only slightly and looked at his chest in front of me. I was holding the perfectly tailored and ironed fabric of his dress shirt so tightly in my hands that my knuckles were white. He placed his lips lightly on my ear while I focused even harder on my hands.

“You don’t need to see him.” He whispered.

I gave only centimeters worth of agreement in my nod. I finally forced my fingers to open and stared at the wrinkles in his shirt. I’d never seen his shift wrinkled. Never. My fingers felt stiff, my cheek throbbed, the back of my neck where his hand still rested felt like it was on fire, and I felt like—

“Are you going to be sick?”

Yes. That was undoubtedly how I felt.

“Alright,” He bent over and caught me behind the kneels, scooping me up into his arms, “Let’s get you out of here.”

I couldn’t help but look down at Marco. He looked how I expected myself to look. Slumped on the ground, in a large pool of blood, his nice suit ruined. I was grateful he was facing down as I closed my eyes and leaned my head against Christiano.

“Get you some ice…some clothes to cover you up… let you get some rest tonight, huh?” He was offering gently. I opened my eyes and stared at him as he walked. He took me through the kitchen first, asking a male cook for a bag of ice. He gave him a bag of frozen peas instead, but Christiano didn’t argue about it as he gave them to me. I held the peas to my swollen face. Next, he brought me to a bedroom and sat me down gently on the bed then disappeared into a closet.

“I don’t have any ladies' clothes…” He trailed on from the closet and then emerged with a pastel blue button-up shirt.

I couldn’t even hide my surprise at his gentle manner, I was so over the acting, and so exhausted, that I didn’t even attempt to question.

“What?” He returned my confused gaze. “Do you need help getting it on? What are the extent of your injuries?” He asked in the most unserious tone ever.