The Assassin's Mask: Daynara and Nicholas

Chapter 2: Revisit

Daynara

I look at Ramona and smile as she twirls on the dance floor. My mind feels a bit hazy from drinking as I follow her moves. Brushing my long hair away, I close my chestnut eyes and sway to the rhythm. My white crop top and black sailor shorts mold to my hourglass frame provocatively, which explains all the male attention I’ve been getting tonight.

Once the song has concluded, I head to the ladies’ room. I pass Ramona and the other bridesmaids, signaling where I’m going. The ladies wave and continue to dance.

Just as I’m passing a group of men, one of them calls out, “Tu es Magnifique mon amour.” You are magnificent, love.

I smile at the males but don’t stop my descent.

Thankfully, the ladies’ room is empty. Once I’ve finished my task, I stand in front of the mirror and carefully wipe at makeup smudges beneath my eyes.

I’m about to wash my hands when I feel a presence behind me. Before I can react, someone grips my hair and roughly pulls my head back. Crying out, I elbow the large male, but his grip doesn’t loosen. I yelp when the force drags me to the ground. My knees slam hard, and my espadrilles make my movements clumsy as I try to get away.

Glancing up, I see a large male covered in black from head to toe, holding a large gun.

I crab crawl back as he advances. Seeing that I’m not going to escape, I kick his shins, making him fall to his knees. Before he can shoot, I kick his wrist and crotch. The male releases a pained groan but doesn’t fall. Instead, he grips my ankle and pulls me under him. I’m usually a good fighter, but I’m too drunk and slow to use my skills.

I try to strike, but he wraps his arm around my neck and puts me in a chokehold.

I scratch at his wrists, cries of despair leaving my lips as my vision blurs and my breaths falter. I can’t lose consciousness.

As the man is about to strike me for my resistance, his body is pulled from mine. Blinking my eyes, I look toward where the man is lying unconscious and gasp when a pair of familiar cold eyes meet mine.

It has been years since I last saw Nicholas, but I could never forget his handsome features, high cheekbones, classic jawline, arched nose, full lips, and intense cobalt eyes. As he had in the past, he’s wearing a perfectly tailored suit that molds to his defined frame, broad shoulders, narrow waist, and powerful thighs.

“Nicholas,” I slur, still feeling the effects of my drunkenness, “What are you doing here?”

Nicholas strides forward and helps me to my feet, “I’ll explain everything once we’re in a safe place. We should go.”

I pull my arm away when he tries to usher me out the door, “I’m not going anywhere with you. My friends are waiting for me.”

Before I can walk past him, he wraps his forearm around my waist and leads me away.

“Let go of me!” I yell as I try to pull away, “I can’t just leave without my friends!”

Nicholas ignores my plea, “What part of “we don’t have time,” don’t you understand?”

Anger replaces my earlier confusion as I try to disengage myself from his hold, “Are you deaf? I told you I’m not going anywhere with you!”

Nicholas’ expression is murderous when he pushes me against a nearby wall and growls, “That man was here to kill you, not your friends. However, you’re putting their lives in danger by being with them. Think about it, Dayanara. Do you continue to risk their lives, or do you come with me?”

His eyes are hooded and his body molds to mine, making me quake with desire. Even after all these years, seeing him makes my n*****s swell and my thighs quiver. The urge to run my fingers through his silken hair is so strong that I must close my fists tightly. Somehow, his words penetrate my drunken haze. I don’t want my friends to suffer because of me.

Jaw clenched, I reluctantly nod, “Fine, but you have to let me call my friends and tell them I’m safe.”

I take out my cell phone, but before I can, Nicholas takes it from my hand and smashes it against the wall.

“What the hell!” I cry out.

Nicholas’ eyes remain steady on mine when he mutters, “It’s too dangerous to use your mobile. We’ll call them as soon as we’re somewhere safe.”

I try not to melt under his gaze, but it isn’t easy. Without another word, Nicholas pushes away and leads me out the door.

Swallowing deeply, I thread my fingers through my hair and slip into the front seat of his car after he opens the door.

I try not to look at him when he slides into the driver’s seat.

“What is going on, Nicholas? Why are you here?” I ask.

Nicholas pulls the car into the street before he replies, “Dion received several threats concerning you from an unknown enemy today. He tried to contact you, but you never answered, so he asked my director for help.”

I rest my head and close my eyes to try to sober myself up, “Père and I haven’t spoken in years. When he heard I was coming here, he tried to stop me. If it weren’t for you being here, I’d think he made this whole thing up to get me back home.”

Nicholas shrugs, “He had no other option.”

I bite my bottom lip and face him, “I need to tell my friends I’m okay before they discover I’m missing.”

Nicholas leans forward, making my heart race wildly in my chest, and opens the glove compartment. My body thrums with pleasure when his arm rubs against mine. Thankfully, Nicholas is oblivious to my absorption because he doesn’t even blink when he hands me a small cell phone.

“It’s a burner. You can call your friends safely,” he mutters.

I take the cell phone from his hand and call Ramona. Thankfully, Ramona made us all memorize her number before we came as a safety measure.

Ramona instantly answers the call. The music booms through the speakers, so Ramona screams, “Who’s this?”

“Mona, it’s me, Day,” I call out. Nicholas quirks a brow at my loud tone, but I ignore him.

“Hey, where the hell did you go, Day? And whose number is this?” she slurs drunkenly.

“I’m using a friend’s phone. But listen, there’s been an emergency back home, and I have to leave,” I lean close to the window and say, “You guys continue with the trip, and I’ll be there when you get back.”

“But you’re my maid of honor,” she argues, “We were supposed to party across Europe together.”

I pull my hair behind my ear and shake my head, “I know, Mona. But I promise to be there as soon as I can.”

Ramona releases a mournful sigh before she replies, “Fine. I hope everything is okay. Love you.”

“Love you too,” I murmur.

I grimace with guilt at lying to my best friend and rub my wrist, feeling the phantom ache that has haunted me since I was five. I met Ramona and befriended her after I left Père’s home. We met at trauma counseling. I was finding it difficult to adjust to being away from an abusive home. She was part of a battered women's support group I joined. I was looking for a place to live and a job because I was running out of money. When I told her I was looking for a place to live and work, she offered to let me stay with her if I helped her sell her art. It worked perfectly, and we became close. We supported each other and became as close as sisters. I was so happy when she met Calvin and fell in love. I could see that he genuinely loved her. And I will be her maid of honor if I can get out of whatever is happening with Père.

Once I finish the call, I put the cell back in the glove box. My eyes gleam with fury when I look at Nicholas.

“Why is it that no matter how far I get from Père, he manages to ruin any happy moment I might have?” I hiss mournfully.

Nausea boils in my belly, reminding me I’ve imbibed a large amount of alcohol tonight. It also doesn’t help that a dark pit of despair and fear spread inside my stomach at the mere mention of my Père. I rub my temples, hoping that the feeling will diminish, but with the car’s constant turns, the feeling worsens until I’m calling out.

“Oh god, pull over. I’m going to be sick.”

Nicholas does not hesitate to stop on an empty street. Without a thought, I rush out the door and vomit into a large bush.

My chest heaves until the contents in my stomach are emptied, and my nausea wanes.

Nicholas stops beside me and hands me a handkerchief and a bottle of mouthwash. Taking the bottle, I rinse my mouth, wipe my lips with the cloth, and turn to face him. I’m sure I look like a mess. My long hair is tousled, and my face is coated with sweat.

“Feel better?” he asks.

I scoff, “Oh, I’m great,” I mutter sarcastically, “This is just another chapter to the s**t show that is my life. It’s just so appropriate that you happen to be here too.”

Nicholas’ looks at me steadily as he moves closer and pushes tendrils of my hair from my face. My eyes instantly hone into his plump lips, making my lips vibrate with need.

Taking the handkerchief, he folds it in half and gently wipes my face.

I don’t mean for the words to come out, but something about his kind gesture makes anger burn inside me, “I hate you,” I murmur grimly, “I hate you and Père so freaking much.”

Nicholas’ hand halts its progress, his expression becoming shuttered.

I can see he’s unhappy with my confession, but I don’t regret my words. I’m too drained and fearful of what my Père might do to me to care about anything.

Without another word, I walk to the car, slip inside the passenger seat, and close my eyes. I don’t have the energy to fight myself out of a paper bag at that moment. Considering Nicholas is a trained assassin, my odds are even worse. I’ll figure out how to get out of this situation once I sober up.

We don’t speak until we reach his apartment. Exhaustion weighs on me as he leads me to a gorgeously decorated bedroom.

I ignore his presence as I slip out of my espadrilles, curl up on the comfortable mattress and close my eyes.

I feel Nicholas’ presence for a couple of minutes until I hear the door click closed. For a second, I think I won’t get any sleep after all that has occurred, but as I close my eyes, I quickly crash.