A hitman

“What?” Ophelia said, staring at Draco.

“I am not your hitman, baby,” he said, spreading his thighs on the couch, watching a stripper on the TV he had paid to perform for him.

“What?” Ophelia could not help repeating. 

Draco looked up at her now, his blue eyes intense. “You stopped me the first time. I am not your hitman. You can whistle at to work on your whims.”

“Is this the love you claimed you have for me?” Ophelia was squinting at him, unable to believe that he was really serious.

He had to be teasing her, although she had no idea why he would do that with something so important. 

“You know I don’t play emotional blackmail,” he said, returning his eyes to the screen. “I don’t have to be a dog to prove my love.”

“What the hell do you mean by dog? That woman is ruining my life, don’t you understand that?” She yelled finally, frustrated beyond reason.

And Draco just chuckled at that. 

The arrogant bastard was chuckling like she was suddenly an entertainment. The way that bitch had laughed at her non-stop earlier. 

She marched towards the TV, yanked the electric cord off, and the screen turned blank.

“Now, that is ruining my life. Not the princess problems you were talking about just now,” Draco said, laughing fully now and Ophelia groaned as she snatched a ceramic bowl off a pocket in the living room console, and she hurled it at his head.

He ducked, still laughing as the bowl smashed hard against the wall and splinters flew everywhere.

“Go on,” Draco said, sitting up again. “When you are done, I will fuck the price of all the items you destroyed off you.”

“That’s all you fucking care about.” She yelled, her fist bunched up beside her. Draco was up and beside her in a second.

“What else is there to think about?” He pressed her to himself. “What else is there to hold on to till I make you my wife?”

“Wife?” She stared up angrily at him. “Dream on if you think I will marry you when you will not even defend me now.”

“Defend you?” He raised his brow, his hands wrapped gently around her waist, “I see no foe.”

“Of course you wouldn’t.” She said, struggling out of his hands, but they only got tighter around her. “You did not even hear a word of what I was saying when you were staring at your stripper’s ass.”

He smacked her butt now with a cocky smile, “I could stare at yours, beauty.”

“Be fucking serious.” She cursed in exasperation.

She was close to tears now from her inability to do anything about this frustrated rage she felt. At Ariel, at him, at the fucking world.

“Heeey.” He cooed. “Don’t cry.”

She savagely wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Who said she was crying? Why the hell would she cry for that little bitch?

“Look. I will never let anyone hurt you. That American cannot really hurt you. What you both had was just girls' quarrell.”

Ophelia frowned at him now. 

So he heard all she told him after all. But this was what he made of it? Girls fight? Was the man stupid? 

She was looking into his blue eyes now.

No, Draco was anything but stupid. As she stared in his eyes, she realized this was what typical Draco does. He was most dangerous and calculative when he was goofing around like this.

She finally saw he knew that this was no girl’s fight. He was in fact very aware of the gravity of this situation, he was just pretending not to. And it was for an important reason.

She gasped as she forced herself out of his arm, stepping back. “You don’t want to kill her.” The betrayal she felt made her voice shake.

Draco shrugged and crossed his hands behind him, “I have told you as much. Why are you suddenly acting like it’s some sort of scientific discovery?”

“Why?” her voice came out in a gasp.

“Because she is no real threat. She cannot harm you, I will not let her.”

“Are you dumb?” She shrieked. “If she tells the world what I did, what do you think will happen to me?”

“Nothing. Your reputation will be ruined, but no one cares about any of that outside Japan. And you are not staying here. I told you already, you are coming back with me to Sicily as my wife.”

“Draco,” Ophelia gasped, her hand coming up to her mouth as she watched the man, terribly hurt at this level of selfishness and betrayal. “You don’t care about me,” she said, shaking her head.

“I do,” he said quietly. “That is the only reason I did not kill your aristocratic simp. But I need the American to keep him.”

“You are sick!” She shrieked, backing away. “You are delusional if you think you will get me to marry you like this.” She yelled as tears finally streamed down her cheeks. “Do you hear me, delusional!”

He was her final resort, her rock, the last person she thought would ever betray her.

She had thought she would always have him in her corner, but she had no idea he could do something like this, turn his back on her just because he wanted her to himself. 

The sick prick.

“You think my name, reputation, family mean nothing? What the hell makes you think I would want to continue living with all those taken away from me?”

“You are not seeing past this small country of yours. The world is big and no one cares about any of this outside in the real world,” he said, calm, completely unruffled.

“Blast you and your world to hell. This is my home. I know that means nothing to foreigners like you, but this is my home, and I will not let that bitch exile me from it.”

She grabbed her purse off the coffee table. “I will do this with or without your help,” She said. 

“You can’t go making trouble again, Ophelia.” 

“Trouble?” She shook her head, hardly believing this was the man she had loved and had so much trust in. “I can see you want to be a priest now.” She said, wiping her eyes. “You are useless to me. If I walk out that door without your help, this would be the last time you see me.”

“That’s not true.” Draco shook his head with a quiet smile, his short curls bouncing. “You will always come back to me.”

She smirked darkly now, poor, poor Draco. He must think this was like the time they were younger.

“Don’t hold your breath,” She said, and walked out the door. 

He did not stop her.