CHAPTER 78

Luca looked at his watch one last time, before walking out of his car, at the airport. His first class flight was due. He has decided against using his private jet.

His mind was in a mess. How could he maintain his sanity after finding out that Hillary Gray was Sharon's tormentor?

He was enraged. Beyond that, he was guilty. He felt that he was partly responsible for her troubles, that he contributed in making her life miserable. In reality he did. Because it was an arranged marriage, and he was supposed to act that way

But he felt that if he was nicer, less of a monster to her at the very beginning, he would've been able to consider himself worthy of healing her scars.

The only way he felt he could fix things was with violence, because for a long time that was the only language he understood

But as he walked, he couldn't help but wonder if he was any different from the man who hurt the love of his life.

Probably Arman was right, and Luca was about to make a mistake—

He took out his phone from his pocket

And dialed Arman's number. But his phone was switched off. He sent a voice message

Hoping earnestly that he wasn't too late, that Arman hadn't followed his orders yet.

Hillary Gray deserved it, it wasn't even debatable

But Arman was right. Sharon didn't need him to fight her battles for her. She would be heartbroken, if anything happened to her father. Even though he never cared for her

“Arman listen, I need you to abort the mission. I've changed my mind

“Listen okay, I was drunk, and I said things. But please don't do it.

Pickup your phone

You were right about Sharon. You were so fucking right. Sometimes it seems like you understand her better than I do. She'll never think about me the same way if—

Pick up your fucking phone!

**************************

In a dimly lit room, Arman stood facing a mirror. The reflected light illuminated his features. He held a silencer in his hand.

On his face was a painful expression. His brows were creased, and his eyes seemed to look beyond what was in the mirror.

He was wearing a black suit. On a table next to him was a mask, a black mask.

He was going to attend a gala, a very expensive gala. Hillary Gray was going to be there. And he was going to shoot him in both of his kneecaps, while he was drunk

But his victim wasn't the only one that needed to drink.

He downed a shot of alcohol, something he rarely did. Something he hadn't done for a very long time. Drinking wasn't his thing. He was more logical, practical.

There was a bottle of alcohol on the floor, a few feet away from him. It represented something he didn't want to go back to, something he was trying to run away from.

But it wasn't because of his assignment that he was so downcast. He hated Hillary Gray, and he didn't mind killing him if Luca asked. It was something else

It was Claire—

Her departure had left him clueless and confused. But he couldn't express it. He couldn't fucking express it. He couldn't assure her that she didn't have to feel guilty anymore. He couldn't fight for her, the way Luca wanted to fight for Sharon

He couldn't even make her understand that he had forgiven her—

Part of loving someone was knowing how to let the person go, and he did exactly that. But there he was, about to fight on someone else's behalf—

He checked his gun to see if it was loaded, and placed it in his pocket. Then he slipped the mask unto his face.

It was a private party. A politician's getaway. An exclusive club where the cream of the crop could spill their tea and reveal their dirty linens, and not get caught. It was the best place. Because under the masks, no one knew who was whom. Hillary Gray would take it as a misfortune, or a threat from a rival business group or company. He would never suspect that his son in law was trying to punish him for his crimes—

And if Arman got caught, he would near the consequences. That was the agreement with the Pavilochenki's

He walked out of the toilet with the mask on his face and made his way to a table.

He had surveyed the room before, and already knew where his target was seated.

He had to keep a good distance, to ensure that no one would suspect anything.

Earlier he had hacked the cameras. For one minute, the people monitoring the place would watch a repeat of what happened before.

Arman had a minute, to place his gun under the table, and shoot Mr Gray's legs.

Some whore would be on his laps while he did it, so they would never suspect it was the handsome masked man who was responsible.

He looked up from his table, and faked a smile at the tall slender woman walking towards him

She looked Caucasian, her accent gave her off immediately. But Arman couldn't concentrate. Something about her reminded him of Claire.

He could see Claire in her eyes, in the way she smiled—

“Papi, you're not paying attention”

She said, as she fiddled with a button in his crisp white shirt

He took her fingers, placed one of them in his mouth and sucked on it gently

“I think I am”

He heard her moan softly, as she slowly undid his buttons with her other hand

But all he could hear was Claire's voice. She was the only thing on his mind.

Not Hillary Gray, Not Luca, and not Sharon—

He had one minute, just one minute—

“Papi”

She called. Her eyes were filled with need, and he wasn't quite giving her his attention

Arman stood up

“I'll be back”

He could see the disappointment on her face. He was disappointed too, at himself. For not being able to follow the script

Because he couldn't get Claire off his mind. He walked back to the toilet. He had failed Luca, failed to shoot Hillary Gray, failed to prove to himself that she meant nothing to him

As he shut the door behind him, he felt the insatiable urge to check his phone. He could try to text Claire, ask her how she slept, if she had eaten, if she was okay—

“Fuck”

He said, as he realised that Luca had called him, nine times

And that was when he got Luca's message —