Entangled desires

Prologue “I stab him, he dies.” Simple, right? She cooled herself. “I’m saving Clara, so it’s worth it.” Her breathing pace kept increasing rapidly. She curled her hands around the hilt of the knife. Closing her eyes, she whispered, “I’m sorry,” and with all her might, she plunged the metal into the man's chest. The hurt—when his eyes flew open. A small groan escaped his parted lips, and that was all it took for her to open her eyes in horror. Maybe she wanted to confirm if she really stabbed him… or maybe she wanted to apologize to him even on his deathbed. She promised herself she wouldn’t look at the havoc she created, but she already did, and whatever image she welcomed now would haunt her all her life. She knew it. One moment he was so vulnerable in his sleep, and the next moment he was the predator, and she was the prey. How they switched positions did not matter, but she could feel his manly grip tighten around her neck as he pushed her until her back hit the wall. She had to breathe. Real fear masked her pretty little face and her blue eyes widened. “Mission failed,” was the only thought that gnawed at her chest. Tears filled the brim of her eyes. His grip on her neck didn’t loosen one bit, and all her struggles meant nothing. It just didn’t affect him. She could taste the metallic hint of blood at the back of her throat. Her eyes shut tightly as she waited for death to come. But the next thing she heard from him was, “You will be the death of me, redhead,” he groaned. She wanted to beg but didn’t get the chance. His hands on her neck only grew stronger and, as if she weighed nothing, he raised her up. Her legs dangled in the air and, with a very strong force, he threw her toward the bed. He pressed her head into the mattress as if he wanted to suffocate her, but it was far from that. “Look at me, love.” He released his grip from her neck and rolled his tongue in a fit of laughter, wondering why he never sensed she was the enemy. Breathing was a luxury to her at this point. She just stared at him blankly. How the knife ended up in his hand was a question for another time—that is, if she survives this. “Who ordered you to kill me? Just who?” he groaned, the veins on his head bulging as if they would pop at any moment. She knew how cruel the man before her was, but he had never hurt her. Rather, he loved her. And just when he confessed his love for her, she attempted to stab him. Her whole being grew weak. A simple I’m sorry might have calmed him, but no, she was totally silent. Words just wouldn’t form. Her blue eyes stared at him. Damn, she was so stupid, she cursed internally. “Kill me already,” she finally found her voice, but that was all she managed to whisper. Out of all the sentences she could have made? Tears finally rolled out freely, mocking her. Betrayal, betrayal… it was her, her mind reminded her. His voice finally came, but not what she expected. He was amused. “Hmm, redhead… it will take more than that stunt you pulled there to kill me.” He grumbled. He pulled her chin, forcing their eyes to meet, and then he did it—smooth yet fast. His lips were on hers. He kissed her. For a moment, she froze. She didn’t expect a kiss. How did it move from her being the assassin… to her mouth being violated by her prey? His teeth grazing her lips did the trick. She forgot all her worries and concentrated on the kiss. She moaned into his lips, and that was all it took for Fransisco’s tongue to slip into her parted mouth. And she sucked at it greedily. But like every good thing, it came to an end. She needed air. The kiss stole all the air from her lungs, but he did not stop. His hand pinned her legs between his thigh and moved to her tiny waist. She was getting weak, but Fransisco wasn’t done with her, and he kept the kiss going. She didn’t even fight him. Maybe this was her punishment—she might as well take it. But who was she kidding? Who punishes an assassin with a kiss in the 24th century? And to confirm her thoughts, he pulled out from the kiss and stared at her deadly. “GET OUT!!!” he thundered, as if she disgusted him. This Fransisco was different from the one who kissed her breath away just moments ago. It finally dawned on her—she failed. He would kill her, then Clara. The thought of Clara dying somehow did the trick, because instead of getting up, she kicked him in the space between his thighs—where the sun never shines. Both his hands flew between his legs as he groaned in pain, and she scrambled away from him. She took that moment to bring out the gun she had slipped from his pillow and— BOOM!!! She fired. He fell straight to the ground with a heavy thud. She did it. She found herself whispering, her knees failing her as she almost dropped to the floor in shock. She murdered him. Officially a killer. She successfully murdered Emiliano Fransisco—the cold, ruthless CEO of the Emiliano Empire. She wanted to fall on the floor and cry, but it was far from over. By now the guards must be tracing the source of the gunshot. She had to run. Pulling out her phone, she dialed the number. The receiver from the other end barked into the phone. “I hope you’re not calling me to ask for more time, because I swear—if that is the case, I will hunt you and your sister and—” “I killed him,” she interrupted, not letting him finish his threat. “What?” He was taken aback, as if his ears were playing tricks on him. “What did you say?” “I murdered Fransisco, Han.” She spat out, trying so hard not to burst into tears. It was as if time stopped. Han went silent. “Han? Hello? Hello? Hello?” But no answer. She was crumbling. What did she just do? She killed the target—aren’t they supposed to come and save her ass? The two short beeps on the phone indicating he hung up was all it took for her world to come crumbling… not like it hadn’t been crumbling already. Her stomach sank as the cold truth was served like black coffee. She was going to jail… or be killed by the Emilianos, the top crime family in Sagiena. In the end, it wasn’t worth it. They would surely hunt her through the surface of the earth. She was a freaking murderer—and she murdered him, the man whose only crime was loving her. This time she let the tears drop freely. No she didn't blink them back rather they rolled out . Her throat went dry, it hurts she screamed letting it all out. Can she ever escape?