An annoying sound wakes me up. Several of them, in fact.
Some weird ringing, and voices from somewhere in the distance.
I’m trying to ignore it, nestling deeper into the bed, and the firm, long-limbed body that’s keeping me warm in a cocoon of spoon. Muscular bicep curled around my waist, soft breaths and sleepy kisses decorating my nape while absentminded rocking pushes an impeccably stiff object against my ass.
God, this has to be, hands down, the best possible way to wake up.
Totally worth all the insufferable arguing and throwing of body parts.
Yawning and humming, I purr, “Papi…”
“Say no more, baby love,” he rasps, extra hoarse, being half-conscious. It’s super sexy. “Get the lube and I’ll slide in slow…”
Fuck yea.
“Okay, but turn off whatever that ringing is,” I hum, reaching for the bottle under the pillow.
But he shoots up fast. “Shit.”
Scrambling out of bed, he’s practically falling over as he reaches for this clunky-looking cell phone. “Si…” He answersit, rubbing his eyes. “Yes, I’mfine, just—qué?No, that’s unacceptable. Tell him I’m busy… Wait, what do you mean he’s comingnow??Well, did you find—Fuck. Alright, hang on. I’ll be right there. I said I’ll be right there!”
He hangs up, rushing around, jumping into his clothes while I just sit up in bed, watching him and clutching the blanket over my waist.
“I knew I shouldn’t have stayed in here,” he mutters. “You’re bad for business, sexy thing.”
“Yea, I’m sure I’d feel bad about that if you weren’t Freddy Krueger, CEO of Children’s Fears Incorporated.” I curl back up in bed.
He laughs, shaking his head as he bends to kiss my jaw. “Watch that tone, little bird, or next time I’ll leave the head in your bed.”
“I can’t tell if that’s a euphemism, or you’re trying to be Vito Corleone right now.” I grin.
“You’re just full of references this morning, huh?” He snickers.
“Mmm, I’m quite witty. Too bad you have to run off and beMr. Scary Warden, grrr,” I grumble mockingly, and he beams. “Otherwise, you could stay in bed and play with what’s under this blanket while I continue being off-the-cuff hilarious.”
“Fuck me, that sounds so much better than what I have to go deal with,” he whines, purposely taking forever to leave, which tells me he really doesn’t want to.
I feel kinda bad. Sure, he chose this life, and he seems pretty hubristic when it comes to his work. Still, I can’t help wondering if he actually wants to be doing any of this, or if he’s just already down the rabbit hole and too proud to admit he’s getting sick of the bullshit.
And because I’m clearly some kind of naïve masochist, I murmur, “Why don’t you just tell them all to fuck off then?”
His expression goes serious as I sit up.
“I’m serious, Diablo.” I gaze up at him. “You don’treallywant to be running around blowing people up because they won’t bend the knee… do you?”
There’s a flicker in his black eyes; a split second of immensereliefthat someone’s finally given him an out. An opportunity to admit the truth of how fucking tired he is.
In that one brief look, I see the real Manuel Blanco. Ivory theman, rather thanIvorythe persona.
A super-smart guy from Colombia who wanted to be a psychologist, to study human behaviors and use it, not to prey on weakness, but to help people better understand themselves.
Someone who would probably always be a bit of a terror, but still normal enough that I could have an actualrelationshipwith him, without worrying about him playing toxic head games and throwing literalheadsat me. And maybe it wouldn’t be a normal life, but it would beoursand we could make it work because he wouldn’t be incapable of loving anyone as much as he lovespower.
The look, as fleeting as it is, sparks a nostalgic feeling of familiarity, like déjà vu. I think… I’ve seen it before.
But it doesn’t matter. Because it’s gone as fast as he can blink it away. Replaced, of course, by defensive arrogance and unmitigated resentment.
Could’ve called that from a mile away.
