Chapter 5: The Rose and the Thorn

Still the same night

Fleur's POV:

"Do you ever-"

"No."

Really, like-"

"'No."

"Why can't I-"

"Because I already told you to stay silent."

"You're literally trapping me here. Why would I be?"

"Maybe I wasn't very clear with my words; don't defy me; maybe I should show you what it means in the basement, yeah?"

"The fuuu—no thank you."

"You're welcome. Shut up," he says, giving me a wide mocking smile.

Not ten minutes later, I feel an unsettling feeling in my stomach, and I don't like it, not one bit. "I don't-" I am not even given the chance to continue when he starts yelling for the millionth time tonight.

"I said shut the fuck-" but he doesn't continue when he takes a look at me. "The hell?!" He stands up immediately, grabbing something from under him. Screeching, the chair almost fell from how fast he stood up. He comes closer to me but keeps a small distance. He's holding something in his hand, but he's blurry, and I can't clearly see what it is.

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Fillip's POV:

Goddamn it, this woman is unbelievably stubborn. She sure knows how to mess with someone, and currently she's getting on my nerves. Not ten minutes after my basement threat, she started again.

"I don't-"

"Shut the fuck-" I stop her, then stop myself. Her head was lolling backward while her hand rested on her stomach. She didn't look too good. I stand up and grab the trash can beside my desk. I wait for a beat beside the couch, and then she surges forward, and I'm already beside her on the floor, with one hand holding the trash can and the other holding her head.

"Damn it. Leo, Christian," I call for my men, whichever of them is standing outside. They come in immediately and stare at Fleur in concern when they see her stance.

"Call Sebastian to my room." I tell them, Leo is already out of the room, but obviously Chris has to stand there. He raised an eyebrow.

"Your room?" He's skeptical.

"Go." My voice surely made it clear, because he left after it.

I turn my head back, looking at an extremely exhausted Fleur. If it weren't for my hand holding her head in place, I'm sure her head would have fallen already. Her breath becomes heavier, and so do her cries. "God, life is unfair," she whines, and I couldn't keep it in. "Really? Unfair life? How many drinks did you have?"

Her neck snaps, and she glares at me. She really should know by now that these make her look nothing but cute. What the fuck? Cute? This woman is messing with my head.

"I'm sick here," she signals with her hand while already stating the obvious. "You don't have to be like that to me." She continues.

"How's that?" and before she can answer me, she is already throwing up again. Well, that wasn't the most pleasant answer. After a couple more minutes of her muttering about how unfair the world is and throwing up, she lays her head back, and I let go of it.

"Come on," I tell her.

"What?"

"Come on," I say again, gesturing for her to get up.

"What is that supposed to mean? Are you taking me to the basement?"

"What are you even saying? No."

"All because I'm sick, I knew you weren't with morals; no one in this world has morals."

"Alright stop-"

"Oh my god, I never knew you could be like that, punishing a lady."

"Fleur-"

"Even though Alberto did it, I never thought that about you."

"Alberto did what?" I ask her in a low tone, and that finally gets her to shut up. She studies my face and then looks away. "Nothing."

"Look at me," I order her, and that stubborn woman just shakes her head.

"Fleur, what did he do?" I ask, and just at the same moment, Leo enters the office.

"Sebastian is in your room."

"Come on, get up," I tell her again, "and this conversation is not over yet. Finally listening to me, she gets up and starts walking. Not two steps later, she's tripping on her own two legs.

"Alright, that's it," I say while wrapping my arms around her. I pick her up, and she lets out a startled yelp.

"Put me down." She tries.

"No."

"What the hell? Put me down. I'm not going to—" She doesn't continue when she sees the look I give her.

"What? Trip? Yes, you will. This is easier." She simply let out a frustrated huff and buried herself into me. When we enter my room, I slowly put her down, and despite that, she groans. "What is it?" I ask, and she either doesn't hear me or acts like she doesn't. I was about to ask again when Sebastian taps my shoulder, so I move away from her.

"Hey Fleur," Sebastian greets with one of his charming smiles.

Fleur turns to look at him and groans again as she does so. Then, when she finally recognizes him, her eyes go wide. "You." She says it with so much disgust that I can't help but smirk at her reaction.

"Yeah me."

"Don't you dare touch me again." She says. She's holding her hand as if she's going to fight him.

"Fleur," I call for her, and she gives me a look as if I just insulted her.

"He gave me a sedative on my first day here AND didn't even ask for my permission. What the hell?" She informs me of what I already knew.

"Well, I'm sorry if this still angers you."

"You're damn right; it still does."

Sebastian lets out an annoyed breath. "Look, just tell me what happened and why you were throwing up, so we can get this over with."

"Are you even a real doctor?" She asked, and oh, she's stepped over the line with this one with Sebastian. I turn to look at Christian and Leo, and they have the same amused look I have.

Since Sebastian's back is to me, I can't see how he's looking at her, but I sure as hell know how he's looking at her. I'm pretty sure he wants to shoot her to death right now. After taking in how Fleur uncomfortably angles away from him and looks at me, I'm even more certain now. After all, he is still a part of the mafia.

"Why is he looking at me like that?" She asks, still uncomfortable, while Christian is laughing his ass off by the door.

"It's alright, Sebastian. She doesn't know."

"The hell, Fillip, you know how awful med school is!" He turns his head to look at me and almost yells.

"Come on, Sebastian, she didn't mean it." I am trying to be reasonable here, but apparently Fleur can't be.

"I was serious though..." Sebastian snaps his head back at her.

"The question—I meant the question. Don't look at me like that. Fine, we get it. Real doctor, we get it," she continued. She needs to consider her words more carefully in a house full of mafiosos.

He releases a breath, then tries again. "Alright, what happened? Why are you throwing up?"

"Aren't you supposed to tell me that-"

"She drank too much-"

Me and Fleur both say at the same time.

"I came here for that because she's had too much to drink?" Sebastian looked done. He looks around the room, ready to kill himself. "What the hell, Fillip? This is why you called me here this late?"

"She was throwing up."

"She'll sleep it off. What the hell?"

"Would both of you please lower your voices?" Fleur shouts, and the room goes silent. We look at her as she turns around, giving us her back. "Your voices are splitting my head," she even complains.

Standing up, Sebastian opens his bag and takes a pill out of it—I'm assuming that would be aspirin. "Give her that and let her sleep," he says before walking out the door. Christian and Leo follow after him, and now we are alone.

I brought a glass of water and set it beside her on the nightstand. "Take this," I tell her, holding out my hand. She turns around and looks between me and the pill.

"You look as if I'm holding a gun to your head."

"You might as well be. What's that?" she asks

"I don't know. Probably aspirin," I reply.

"Fine," she says, sitting up, but immediately lets out a dissatisfied sort of sound. Then she takes the pill and drinks some water. When she's done drinking, she lays back down and stares at the ceiling. Her eyes flutter, and I can tell she's trying hard not to sleep.

"What did Alberto do?" I try again, and she just shakes her head.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I refuse to talk about it," she explains simply.

"I'm not asking you to."

"Then what are you doing?"

"I'm telling you to."

She looks at me and smiles. "You know I don't care about that, right? The whole I own you thing. You definitely do know that, yet you try so hard to intimidate me."

"I'm not trying to. I'm sure I do intimidate you, Fleur."

With an agitated look on her face, she continues talking as if I hadn't said anything. "What will you do if I refuse your 'orders'? kill me? Well, guess what? I've already been killed over and over again. It doesn't matter anymore."

"You really are drunk."

"Maybe I am, but it's true, and make the most out of it, because you'll never hear me speak like that again if I'm not drunk."

"Is that so?"

"Mhmm," she nods.

Well, make the most out of being sick too, because I won't be that easy with you when you're not."

"You could be a little more comforting about that, you know? being sick," she has the nerve to complain.

"You shouldn't be asking for comfort, Fleur. Not in this world, not from me."

"Is that so?" She mimics my question, and I nod.

"Why not?" She asks, and I silently stare at her. "I'm sure someone did once."

"What makes you so sure?"

"No one is born evil. You're no exception."

I let out an unhumored chuckle. "You think I'm good?"

She smacks her lips, and an unhumorous laugh escapes her too. "No. No, I don't; no one in this world is good. That doesn't mean you weren't once. This once is the time someone would seek comfort from you."

Images of Marie flood my brain, and I try to block them, but they keep coming. Then Fleur's voice broke my train of thought.

"See, you're thinking of that someone," she says, smiling again. I can't tell if it's because she's amused or because she knows she's right; maybe it's because she's drunk.

"I'm not."

"Whatever you say, boss," she says, raising her hand in mock surrender.

"You still didn't answer my question." I remind her, and she huffs, looking at me. Something grabs my attention in her eye, flashing quickly—something almost depressing and apprehensive.

"Why do you want to know? What does it matter to you, anyway, what he did? What do you care about anything"

Glassy eyes stare at me, awaiting answers, but the truth is, I have none. I don't know why my blood seethed today when I saw her dancing with Stephan. I just couldn't think straight when I did see her with him. I don't know why I want to know about what she's been through, but deep down I feel that need, that unmistakable feeling of desire.

The desire to know more about her, peel through the layers she has, and break those surrounding walls around her one by one, even if it's not fair to me or her.

Is it to my benefit or is it going to be to my dismay? I'll never know, at least not at the right time, but what I do know is that my curiosity and intrigue are getting the best of me right now.

"So you're not going to answer me?" She asks, turning on the bed and giving me her back as she goes to sleep. I do exactly that as I make my way to the alcohol table and pour some scotch into my glass. Sitting down on the couch, I watch her sleep, yet this uncomfortable look is always on her face. I close my eyes, lay my head back on the couch, and try to think of anyone but her.

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Fleur's POV

My eyes flutter open, and I'm back there, in that old, cold, bloody cell. "No, no, no," I whisper to myself. It can't be. I left.

I try moving, but a pang of agony courses through my body, making an involuntary groan come out of me.

This time I tried to sit up. I do it slower, and just as I do, the door opens, and I can hear my heart beating in my ears. It's too loud, and I don't hear the door or the lock continuing to open.

All blurred up, lean, strong legs come closer to my tunnel of vision, and I try to get as far away into the corner as if that would make me disappear.

I was sure it was Alberto's piercing blue eyes that were going to glare at me while he pulled me out of this cell and to a new man, then hit me if I was ever sent back. I always got sent back.

I was sure it was him, but the thing is, it wasn't. Instead, I was met with the gray of a depressing day and the gray of the overcast clouds, and tears escaped my eyes. I've never cried when Alberto came to take me; why did I cry when I saw Fillip?

Were they tears of happiness? That he's here to get me out and finally set me free? Or are they because of fear? He's worse than Alberto; he's the worst person anyone could end up with.

"Why are you here?" I ask as he continues to stare, hoping that for once I wouldn't end up in another fucked-up place. But it doesn't matter because all hope is shattered with his next words, as if my hope were glass being shattered by his extremely low voice.

"It's time for your punishment, sweetheart."

"Why?" Comes out with my tears, almost as if it's a part of them. A booming laugh comes out of him. one I'd never heard him laugh before, so dark, so much worse than I thought it could be.

"Did you think you were finally safe? Did you think after what you did trying to run away, I'd let you be?" He says this as he starts tugging at my arm, trying to sit me up, and I struggle against his strong hold.

Stop, no-no..." "NO."

This time, when I open my eyes with a snap, I'm not on the hard floor anymore; I'm on a soft bed. It's warm. But the same hands are tugging at my arm, and the same gray eyes are examining me, this time filled with solicitude rather than anger. They still startle me nonetheless, and I snatch my hand away from his looking anywhere other than those ashen, overcast eyes.

That doesn't stop Fillip's hand from finding its way to my face, though, and it settled there firmly. A Soft brush of his thumb across my cheek makes me realize that I have been crying. That brush was so soft that it sent a chill down my spine.

"Are you ok?" are the words that came out of his mouth. Such a joke, am I? Will I ever be okay? I grew so numb from that nightmare and felt so dazed. Like ghosts, these images floated into my head, took refuge there, and flooded my mind with so many unwanted memories. But will they fade away, or will they keep haunting me forever?

When my numbness was finally gone and I remembered his hand still on my face, I tried moving away, but he gave me no chance. Why does he have to do that?

"What is it?" Were his words this time, but how can I tell him I dreamt of him about to do to me exactly what Alberto used to? His touch on my face grew unbearably heavy, and all I wanted was to get it away, along with this nightmare.

I finally gathered the courage to look into his eyes. "Please, just please don't do this now. Get away, please," I beg. His eyes regarded me once more before he finally decided to let go of my face.

"You should have some rest," he says hardly as he stands up, getting up from the bed while rubbing his temples with his knuckles. He sounded aggravated, so I obeyed. I laid my head back down on the soft pillow, but little did he know that having some rest was the last thing I was planning on doing.

If not sleeping at all is what it takes to stop more dreams like this, then so be it. I'm not sleeping.

However, the thing I didn't plan to do and that happened anyway were those tears. Damn it. Escaping my eyes like a cascading river. He wouldn't see me, though; I had my back to him. He wouldn't see me that way, and he'd just stay away and leave me alone.

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Fillip's POV:

Her fingers were trembling under that comforter; all of her body was, but I don't think she noticed that. She's been disgusted by me since day one; she all but said it, yet right now, her steel-blue eyes seemed to shatter a bit more every time I took a look at them. Right now she seemed almost repulsed by me, and when she finally looked up at me with those tear-rimmed eyes, she begged me to get away, not being able to stand me being near her. I couldn't stand myself either. So I got away to relieve her and myself.

Fleur said nothing as she listened to what I said about her resting. I wasn't stupid, though; she wouldn't sleep after whatever she saw in that nightmare of hers. Even worse, she cries. She thinks I don't know, but her shaking shoulders gave it away immediately.

It took every last bit of self-control inside of me not to go there and try to calm her down.

Why should I anyway?

What can I possibly do to make her feel better? Tell her it's going to be okay? Well, knowing the sick son of a bitch Alberto is, I know that being taken by him isn't okay. But she won't even let me help.

Will I help, though?

Will I make it worse? I don't know.

Then I couldn't stand the sight of her back to me like that anymore; I couldn't stand the fact that I even felt obliged to help her, so I walked out of the room, slamming the door behind me as I made it to the northeast wing.