PART 2: MARIELLE – Chapter 49

CONTAINS CONTENT:

Sexual themes (talk) regarding addiction, brief strong language.

{{Unedited}}

It was a little hole in the wall place that Marielle was certain was run by the mob based on the big guy with huge shoulders at the door.

The walls were deep red, the lights were low, and there were real candles on the tables.

The table she and Austin sat at was small, and their knees kept brushing. Neither mentioned it.

Austin spoke Italian to the waiters, and even turned and called something over his shoulder to the him as he walked away. The man – with a white apron around his middle – nodded his understanding.

“What did you say?” She asked, playing with her fork uncomfortably.

“Oh, I just asked for some olive oil for the bread.” He’d removed his gloves, and he was playing with a warm piece between his hands before he opened it, and took a moment to breathe it in with a soft smile before taking a bite. “I’ve missed this,” he said, chewing. “No one does bread like this country.”

“It’s all carbs.”

“So true,” he groaned, licking his lips suggestively.

She smiled at him and took a piece for herself, “So, you were born here?”

“Uh…yeah,” he said a little dismissively before he bit into his piece of warm bread again. “I was born in Turin, like I said? Lived here for a little over eleven years.”

A rotund, bald waiter with a handlebar moustache came to the table, and Austin rattled off something in Italian. Marielle smiled at him, she loved the way that he sounded speaking it.

He looked at her, “Can I order for you?” He smiled, “I don’t want to presume-”

“It’s fine,” she said. He grinned, his smile saying that he liked her letting him take control, and finished talking to the waiter. He lifted a finger stopping him, “Red or white?”

“Oh, uh… you pick.”

Again, a smile, and he finished, then he turned back to her, brushing his bottom lip with the back of his thumb. Did he ever want that kiss. She nervously avoided his gaze, finally taking a bite of her bread.

It was so soft and light on her tongue that she put her fists up and did a little dance.

He chuckled, adoring her childlike demeanor, wishing that he could capture that moment of pure joy on her face. He knew he’d remember it for a long time; maybe forever.

Their eyes found one another.

He was still rubbing his bottom lip. -I want to hold your hand again.

-Not now. And not until you talk to me more about your past.

“I liked video games,” he said with a dismissive smirk.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

The waiter came by and set some olive oil down in a little bowl before he poured a dark red wine into each of their glasses. He gave them a small bow and left.

She dipped some of her bread into the bowl and he did the same; their knuckles just barely brushing. Their eyes flicked to one another briefly- both saying sorry with them, and both taking a moment to eat.

“Oh, here, like this,” he said reaching over and taking her wrist gently to pull her hand and the piece of bread closer to him. He shook a pinch of salt onto it, and smiled. “Trust me.”

She bit into it and looked up at him with surprise. He grinned, and nodded at her. “It’s so good,” she groaned and again she did this little- fists in the air, upper body swivel.

“I know,” he said excitedly.

They both ate in silence for a moment, and he drank a little. “Go easy,” she said, jokingly.

“I’m never drunk,” he replied. Then he chuckled silently at the irony as they both thought about that night, “Okay, I was a little that night, but I can’t be drunk- you know that, right?”

She lifted a brow, “What do you mean?”

“I can drink, but I can be called away at any moment to leave town, or catch the next flight, or…” he shrugged with both his shoulder and his left brow, “so I can’t be drunk.”

She paused, chewing, then swallowed. “Do you have any other addictions?”

He shook his head, “No.” He took another sip, “Well, I mean, if you consider things like coffee, or-” he waved his cell phone in the air, “cell phone an addiction.” He set it aside and she noted this; he was purposefully setting it away from them. Being with her right now was more important to him than anything.

“In some way, but not life destroying unless- well, unless you’re receiving texts while driving or something, I guess.”

“No,” he chuckled. “No, I have to be straight,” he put finger quotes around straight to jokingly emphasize that word. She laughed. “I got a job to do.”

“So are you going to tell me anything else about yourself?”

“I don’t like pickles.”

“Stop deflecting.”

He pouted at her, trying to hide a smile, and rubbed his hands together. “It’s just…uh… it’s really hard for me to talk about.”

“Well, I gathered that,” she said tenderly. He looked lost for a moment… the look on his face and in his deep blue eyes was similar to the one that she saw on him the night she was at his house, exploring the photograph of him and his mother. She had put that moment aside on purpose because of how uncomfortable it had made him at the time and she’d never gone back to it. “You tell me, and we’ll talk more about this.”

“This?” he asked looking distant and sleepy; however, underneath those feelings was him mimicking his tone from the day that she’d given him that damn playing card that was burning a hole in his wallet right now. He dragged his gaze up to her face.

She caught onto it immediately; she remembered. “This.”

He stared at the middle of the little square table for a few moments; somewhere far, far away. He was a little boy afraid to move or open his mouth for fear that something was hovering over him, ready to strike.

He took in a deep breath. “What do you want to know about?” he asked in a quiet, almost feminine voice, and his gaze was averting her.

She cleared her throat and took a sip of her wine for the first time since it had been set down. It was bitter, and refreshing. She put it back to the table, afraid to proceed, but forcing herself to do it anyways. “Your mother.”

“The woman who birthed me, or the woman who eventually got that title?” His gaze shifted uncomfortably.

“Let’s start with the woman who birthed you,” she said flatly.

He exhaled heavily, and used both hands to put his hair behind his ears. His eyes found hers. –I just want to kiss you and hold your hand so badly right now. I just want to feel you against me. He groaned.

-Stop deflecting, stop trying to quell the anxiety. Stop making plans, Austin. Just talk to me. Then she hit him with -I’m with you.

His breathing went a little more sporadic and he glanced around the restaurant as if the walls were closing in. He parted his lips, and for a moment nothing came out. “Isotta Rancor… was a whore,” he explained dryly, dragging his gaze up to hers again.

She slowly reached her hand across the table, and lightly brushed his fingers. He simpered at her touch. “That much I know, Austin. What else?”

He swallowed, and downed the rest of his wine in one quaff. He was twitchy, making several movements; loosening his tie, placing a hand behind his head for a moment, pinching the end of his nose, and sucking air into it when his fingers fell away. He finally settled once he focused his gaze on her hand, which was still touching his, and he gently brushed her fingers with his index finger. He stared at her hand as he spoke, “She was a witch,” it came out so nonchalantly, “or a satanist, or- hell, I don’t even know.” She squeezed his hand. He reluctantly continued, “she did things to me.”

“Things?”

“Rituals and… I don’t know. I remember it in spurts, sometimes.” He gestured to the side of his head with his other hand, “I don’t know, it’s all like sort of jumbled up in my head? I remember certain things but other things are unclear, and I think she wanted it that way, you know?”

“Was there sexual abuse?”

He glanced frantically around the restaurant, “do we have to talk about this here?” he whispered. She was silent, but urging him with her eyes, even though she was also telling him that if he needed to stop, he could. She squeezed his hand. “I mean she didn’t like rape me or anything, at least not to the best of my knowledge, but…” he paused, “yeah.” He scratched the back of his head. Her heart sank. She knew how broadly that term could cover without actual rape. “I saw things, I witnessed things. I was made to take part in things that no one that age should be made to do. They commanded me.”

“They?”

“Yeah,” he looked a bit confused himself for a moment, “They called it commanding, anyways. They being the coven or whatever they were- I rarely saw their faces; they were always masked or hooded. They called what they did commanding. They,” he paused, “ordered me, told me what I was, what to do, how to do it, chanted over me, and-.” He shook his head, his face going pale; he couldn’t continue. “I don’t know it was all kinds of fucked up, Marielle.” He paused and tore a piece of bread into small pieces as he thought for a moment, gently setting them on the table in a little pile. “She,” he cracked his neck on one side uncomfortably, “claimed ownership over me, my body, my mind, commanded me into sensual slavery,” he said this bluntly, then let out a stupid, “ha” sound as if mocking himself and his situation. “Crowned me king of desire, pleasure god. Told me I was perfect-” he flashed his eyes at her, “physically, anyways.”

Marielle’s head was tilted to one side, her gaze on him, watching him- loving him. Wanting to hold him. “Why did they do that?”

He shrugged a shoulder dismissively, “She believed in a form of witchcraft that uh- it’s power was derived from sensuality and sex, pleasure and lust… she believed that if you could harness these things, you could control anyone.” He faked a smile, put his pointer finger to his nose and pointed to her with the same finger on the other hand as if to say, ‘you got me… you figured it all out. Look at that. Are you watching closely? Hit it on the nose,’ all in one stupid gesture. Then he dropped both hands, his face twisting into agonized sadness, and he covered his mouth with his hand like it was a mask and tried to quell something that might have been tears, but came out more like panic. “I remember things… they were disgusting.”

“Do you want to talk about any of it?” she whispered, taking his hand and squeezing again.

“No.” He said quickly. “Maybe someday, but not now.”

“Austin, I’m…” She sighed, looked down, and then closed the space between him, giving him a hug around the neck. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of her closeness for a moment. Because she held him, she could feel his heart was pounding due to the panic that had set in talking about these things. She calmly reached down, took his hand, forced hers through his, until their heartbeats were pounding against one another’s and guided his pulse back to steady as had happened on the plane. He calmed, his head slowly rolling back a little in bliss. “How did you get out of that?” She whispered.

“Well, that’s where the other woman comes into play. Well, it was a man, actually but-” he gently settled her away from him and back into her seat and screwed his eyes up for a moment, considering. “And kind of why I exist as I do, actually?” She cocked her head at him inquisitively. “There was an Italian man, in Turin, came to see a whore- mia madre… my mother. They did their thing… but he didn’t expect to find a kid there, you know?” He asked, took a sip of water, and chewed on an ice cube for a moment. “I mean I was like almost twelve and had already been with like three people at this point in time intimately, but… from his perspective I was a kid. This guy worked in espionage; you know? Big guy, gruff, real no nonsense, he comes out of the back of the house after you know, just spending an hour there, and I heard it all… he leans down and says to me, ‘hey, kid, you want to get out of here?’ And I did. So, he took me and called the authorities on Isotta, and brought me back to America where he was based. He adopted me and eventually married a woman named Tiffany, and she was my mom after that. She was far better at it, to say the least,” he chuckled indifferently. The waiter came by to pour more wine for them both. “But this guy that saved me, ya’ know, Rick was his name he uh- took me back to New York, and taught me English, and started me in government early,” he chuckled again. “So like, he sees me reading people really well, right? Like I could read him and manipulate him from almost moment one, but then he walks in on me and,” he put finger quotes around, “the neighbor, and like what is a thirteen-year-old doing screwing the fifteen-year-old neighbor, right? And like- most parents would have hit the roof, and to some degree he had,” finger quotes again, “the talk with me, but he realized that- I mean, like, you have to read someone in order to seduce them, right? So, he realized what an asset I could be, so he started me there; profiling. Which I was good at. And here I am,” he gestured down to himself. “I started training with a gun and weapons almost instantly after I could communicate fully in English, and around that time I also started manifesting ice powers, so… they started training me in that, too.” He cleared his throat, “It wasn’t until I was like seventeen that they started an initiation process- I had to take a bunch of tests, and learn a bunch of martial arts, and street fighting, uh- Krav Maga, and after I graduated things got really intense for a while, but…” he nodded.

“They put you to work.”

“Pretty much, yeah.” He chewed another ice cube. “I mean, it all started slow, and I was able to finish high school, have my star athlete days, and do some college- but yeah.”

She smiled for a moment, feeling like she could picture so much about his life, “Was there ever- uh… I mean, you’re not exactly the guy that doesn’t stand out,” she stammered, then she lightly chuckled, covering her reddening face. “You stand out.”

He understood what she was getting at, “Yeah, there was actually a lot of talk about that,” he snickered, boyishly. “They were concerned that I was just too darn, uh…” he gestured at himself, “Handsome?” He laughed heartily. “The first official job I did- I was just somewhere to watch a guy; they put me in prosthetics.”

“Really?” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Yeah, nose, teeth… I was playing a janitor, anyways, so…” he put his pointer finger to his cheekbone, “glasses, a mole. I still got looked at, so they decided after a few more tries that I either did full make up, or nothing and they just risked it.”

“So, you’ve done the gamut as far as disguises go?”

“Yeah. I’ve been an old man, I’ve been a red head, I’ve had freckles and a goatee…”

“Is this…” she gestured at him, “You?”

He smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he said with a wink.

Both laughed, she knew that he wasn’t in disguise. Then there was a pause. “Where is Isotta now?” Marielle pressed.

“Oh, she’s dead,” he said this casually; like he had just told her they were having ice cream later. “To the best of my knowledge, anyways. I got a call about six years ago- I don’t know I hadn’t talked to her since I left. But apparently, she was killed by one of her Johns?” He tucked his lips in for a moment and made a face that said Ironic. “She haunts me, though. I hear her voice, it’s almost always on the side of my mind, urging me, telling me to remember what I am.”

She bit her lip, and thought for a moment. “What are you, Austin?”

He smirked proudly, almost demonic, and his eyes briefly glowed. “Pleasure god,” he beamed. Then he chuckled, lightly rolling his eyes. He exhaled and smoothed his hands over his hair, “it’s a damn joke,” he whispered. “I’m a man, not a god.” He met eyes with her. –It doesn’t mean it’s not in me. All of that. All of the trauma, and the sensuality, all of the things that they told me that I was, I became. Cold, and alone… over the top sexual.

He looked down, quiet, and unsure as disgust rolled down his back and spine in waves, making his stomach twist into knots.

She put a hand to her stomach, feeling the twist of anxiety that she guessed might be from him. Marielle squeezed his hand again, and the ghost of a smile came over his lips. “Oh, you’re still here,” he joked in a sleepy, distant tone.

“I said… I’m with you,” she whispered.

He smiled, softly, relief beaming in his eyes. “You have no idea how much that means to me right now.”

“You have no idea how much it means to me every…single…time you say it, Austin Rancor.”

He looked off for a moment, thinking. His fingertips to his mouth in thought. “Do you remember all of the times that I’ve said it?” he asked hopefully.

“Every last one.”

His eyes glistened as they were silent for a few moments. “I don’t want to be this,” he began. “I’ve just never been able to stop.” He sipped some of the water. “Some things are just inside you so deep, that-”

“Maybe they’re not,” she cut him off. “Maybe things are meant to be challenged, and fixed, and maybe you’re not as broken as you think you are.”

He chuckled humorlessly, “I’m a total machine, you know that, right? I’m a trained robot for the United States government that can be reset,” he said mockingly. “Tinkered with mentally.”

She played with his fingertips a little again, drawing his attention there and his mind felt a bit of peace as shivers of pleasure ran down his back. “Did Erin know that you were basically a government spy?”

He smiled ironically, “Erin still doesn’t know. She thinks that I do something with computers.”

“So, you told me that willingly, knowing that you might be forfeiting your life…” she half asked, half stated.

“Because I’ve never lied to you,” he whispered hoarsely. “And I couldn’t do it, then.” He gazed at her with purpose, –And I can’t do it now, either. I want… to hold you. Before we go back to our rooms tonight, I’m going to hold you. You can stop me. You have that power, but I want you in my arms… where I feel like you belong.

Marielle let out a shaky breath, desiring it, and trying to fight against his words at the same time. -What about Vincent?

They were both silent for a moment, and the food interrupted them as the waiter set it down.

She looked her plate over. “Okay, you have to explain what we have, here.”

Apparently, she had risotto and he had something called Ossobuco. They could trade if she wanted. She said it was fine, hers was delicious and they ate for a bit in silence.

“Anything else?” he asked eventually. “Because that’s about as deep and dark as it gets and while I understand that you don’t have lots of details or whatever, I do plan on telling you more, just…”

“Not now,” she finished for him.

He nodded. “Timing’s not right.”

Something crashed in the kitchen causing them both to jump, and Austin’s hand went to his coat. He had frozen and for a moment he was just watching. The cook had dropped a cup and it’d shattered.

Austin calmed and turned back to her, dropping his hand, and smoothing over his dark gray jacket. He looked at her, relieved.

She watched his actions. –It’s so hard to believe that you’re carrying.

-I’m always carrying, you just don’t realize it. 

She narrowed her eyes at him curiously, –Always?

–Yup.

She lifted a challenging brow at him. –Like…always?

He lifted an eyebrow back and grinned. -Mhmm.

-Like… alwwwwwways?

Both were chuckling, silently. –Why is that so hard to believe?

She was making a face like she was trying not to blush more. –I don’t know, I’ve seen you in some pretty… tight clothing.

-Yeah? What was a time that you thought I looked really good?

She didn’t need to think for long. -The announcement.

-Oh, I was one hundred percent carrying then.

-Really?

He nodded. There was a pause and his expression became serious. –You looked so damn inviting that I almost tripped on my way out of the elevator. He cleared his throat and started speaking again, now through the parts about weapons and announcing to the restaurant that he was armed. “But I don’t like you like that.”

“Oh? Austin Rancor doesn’t like the sex kitten look?” She purred, feigning shock.

“Not on you,” he replied, taking a bite and his tone and eyes were so serious it shook her to the core. “It was false. It was to seduce Vincent,” he smirked a little, knowingly. “And me.”

“And you?” She was shocked now. “You think any of that was for you?”

The left side of his mouth curled up a little. “I think you tried real hard to make sure that I knew that none of it was…” he paused, biting his bottom lip and rubbing his hands together for a moment. “At what point did you realize that you couldn’t wear that red lipstick without telling me how you really felt?” She swallowed hard, remembering putting the red lipstick on and quickly wiping it off. He still knew… how? “When we were dancing, I could see just the smudged edge. You realized and you removed it, but you missed a spot. And you thought, ‘If I remove this, he won’t know, or, think I’m saying otherwise…’ Right?” he shook his head at her, adoringly. “Your body is not a good liar, Marielle. It was obvious what you were doing. Making me mentally beg.”

“Again,” she hissed, trying to hide her reactions to his words. “You think any of that was for you?”

“You know that it was.” She couldn’t deny this even if it had been subconscious; it felt right even if she hadn’t ever admitted it to herself. “You wanted to make me realize what I was missing…” He smirked. “You did.” He sighed, long and loud, “I know exactly what I’m missing.”

She ate in silence for a moment, and he did as well, letting those words hover over her head for a moment. “Come on, Austin,” she growled. “You know that the moment that I was yours you’d have me in eight-inch heels and fishnet tights and miniskirts and midriffs.”

He interrupted her. “No.” She tilted her head forward at him, giving him a look like he was an idiot. He smirked, “Well, maybe for special occasions.”

“Like what?”

He sipped some water. “Your birthday? Our anniversary? My birthday… but let me be clear, if that was the way we were going, firstly, I’d make sure that you agreed to it, and secondly… it’d be for me,” he growled, darkly. “Not everyone in the room.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “So, what do you want me to look like?”

“You,” he said quickly. “You’re not a whore, Marielle.”

Her eyes narrowed at him in disdain. How dare he. “You think I was trying to look like a whore?” She bit.

“I think you were trying to sell yourself, yes. Not for money. For his love.” He looked down, sadly. “I like you like this,” his eyes wandered briefly down her body starting with her neck, collarbone, shoulders, and chest, then back up to her mouth, and eyes. “This is how you’re comfortable- no makeup… still the prettiest girl in the room.” 

She squirmed, uncontrollably. There were no lies in his expression, or exaggerations. He wasn’t trying to seduce her; he was just being honest. “Austin…” She whispered.

“Austin…” he repeated, mocking her, the ghost of a smile spreading over one side of his mouth.

She simpered, her cheeks getting redder by the minute and he grinned. “Why do you do that? Why do you repeat your name?”

“I’m keeping it,” he whispered. It was obvious she didn’t understand. “I want my name in your mouth, always. Context almost doesn’t matter… when you say it, it doesn’t feel real sometimes, so I repeat it to hear it again, and to see your reaction. OCD? Maybe. But when I see your reaction, I know that you said it, and I know that you wanted to.” She smirked and poked at her food with her fork, nervously. “Or, maybe I’m just being a total dick.” He added quickly, eating a little more. She slapped him in the arm. “Oooh, touching in the form of minor abuse- I think that’s a sign of a crush,” he taunted.

She shook her head at him, and hid her face with her hands for a moment. “Yeah, I think that we’ve had a lot of those moments.”

“You want to go through the list?”

“There’s a list?”

“Of course there is,” he chuckled, put his fork down and put a hand up, starting to count off on his finger. “Let’s start from moment one, hesitation when you first met me, taking my face and body in, lip bite, minor trembling in your hand when you shook my hand, purposefully trying to bother me by throwing my name, knowing you got to me,” he paused and smirked, “checking me out as we walked back to my office.”

She put a hand up, unable to control her beet red expression. “Okay-” she stopped him, feeling small and exposed.

He grinned. “You have such a crush.”

“Yeah, what about you?” She pressed, trying to get to him, too. “My pleasure,” she mocked, reminding him of some of his first words to her.

“Crush is putting it mildly.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, stop. We both know that you just want me in your bed tonight.”

“Actually, on the couch watching the fireplace as we kiss…” He was so calm as he spoke about these things. 

She stiffened and drank some more wine, taking the fireplace scenario in; it sounded so nice. He watched her do this, maybe praying that it’d loosen her up enough to talk more candidly. She was so guarded right now about deeper feelings. “I’m not giving into you.”

“Yes, you are,” he said factually.

She took a deep breath and let it out, slowly. “I can’t.” She cocked her head to the side.

“Why not?”

“Because I-…” she looked off, momentarily. “Firstly, Vincent.” He pursed his lips, knowing that Vincent was one of the biggest barriers at the moment. “Secondly? You’ll hurt me. You already hurt me.”

He looked down into what was left of his food, letting out a long exhale that he felt like he’d been holding in for a long while. “I do?”

“Yes, you do. You wanted me to be more honest with you on the plane, so let’s trade honesty then, shall we?” He nodded, preparing. “You hurt me every single time you tell me that you saw some hooker, or… with Rachel?” He actually had to think for a moment. Right… the married woman, from the bowling alley. It was striking him how sick he was. She remembered her name, he hadn’t off the top of his head. That…was…sick… He rubbed a hand over his face. “It hurts, Austin. At least Vincent is faithful. In his actions and in his eyes if not his mind- I’m not suggesting that he’s perfect, there… but he’s never cheated on me. He’s never used another woman to-”

“I get it,” he whispered shamefully. “I know. I told you that day that you uh… hit me? Pounded against my chest? Called me a pig over and over again?” He looked off, the candlelight dazzling his eyes for a moment. “I know…” He swallowed thickly, silence passing between them for a moment. “And I hate myself.”

“Don’t hate yourself, Austin, just stop…” she begged.

He closed his eyes briefly, “I’m trying.”

“Trying’s not good enough, and you know it.”

His earpiece slipped a little and he pushed it back in. He tucked his lips in for a moment. “When will it be? Will it ever be?”

“When you’re not doing it for me,” she replied quickly. “When you’re doing it because you want to do it; because you realize it’s the right thing to do… and you stop being this-” She looked him over; he was listening intently. She had his full attention. “I don’t know, sixteen-year-old in a thirty-two-year old’s body.” He thought for a moment, biting off a hangnail. This made sense, and because it did, it scared him. “You can’t do something for me. I might not always be there. I might not be an option. I might be with you and let you down every…damn…day… It can’t be for me.”

She was one hundred percent right. When he’d married Erin, he had a time of briefly stopping his behavior, but he was doing it to make Erin happy, and during that time everything seemed okay. Then something had happened, he couldn’t quite remember what. Maybe they’d had a fight and stress and anxiety skyrocketed in his body and he slipped. It’d started small… just a little porn. Nothing too serious. She knew he did that sometimes, whatever. But the relief was too great, and he quickly slipped from- I did this once and it was relieving, to -I’m doing it five to ten times a day and hiding it from her. Then he started going back to the strip clubs, then he wanted the men more and more and- he stropped his train of thought.

She was right. He couldn’t do this for her. He had to figure out a way to do this for himself and himself alone. He had to stop telling himself that it was even an option. It wasn’t. It was… not… an option. No matter how much anxiety or stress he felt, he had to put up the boundaries now or sink again. What was the first boundary? He swallowed as he met eyes with her. -I’m never seeing a hooker again, no matter what the cost, who I’m with, or not with. No matter how much anxiety I feel or stress I’m under, or trauma I’ve endured. Trembling, he put his fork down.

She’d heard that.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Do you mean that?” He nodded like he was scared. He was. He did mean it. “Will you use those magic words of yours?”

He parted his lips, “I promise,” he barely breathed. Then he squeezed his eyes shut, solidifying this in his mind. –No matter what. If Marielle loves me, I won’t see a hooker. If Marielle is never with me, I won’t see a hooker. If Marielle is angry at me, I won’t see a hooker. If Marielle and I are fighting and she says she hates me, I’m not seeing a hooker. If Marielle and I are together and she can’t have sex with me due to illness, giving birth, or any other number of things, I am not seeing a hooker. There is no longer a scenario in which this is okay. Ever again.

“Do you know why you do this?” she asked him after a moment intense scrutiny. “Have you ever looked yourself in the eye, in the mirror and told yourself why you do this?” He shook his head frantically. “You’re scared of someone really loving you, really accepting you,” his chest hurt. “Because if they do… then you can get hurt. Your mother cursed you, and told you that if you had power over them- a lover, then you were safe, right?” He nodded, glancing away from her gaze. “But it’s not true. You might not feel pain now…but you’ll still die alone.” He was silent. “Do you understand that you the root of this is your anxiety? You suffer terribly from it, I see it on you, and I get it, your job is so stressful, and your past is… difficult. You try to cover up your insecurity, stress, and your trauma with a stronger drug- for you that’s sex.” He looked distant and lost, taking in every last thing that she said. She squeezed his hand, “You’re going to be okay without seeing a hooker. Do you understand that?”

“I don’t know yet.” He admitted.

“You have to find something else to calm your anxiety, now,” she explained. “And it has to be something healthy. It can’t be a rebound or another addiction.” He put his hand over his eyes. “You’re done. You’re no longer allowed to take your anxiety out on another woman for money.”

He nodded. “Okay,” he whispered, acceptingly.

“None of them ever loved you,” she reminded.

“I know that.” He swallowed the lump rising in his throat, and cleared it. “Most of them didn’t even call me by my real name.” He paused. “But I didn’t want their love, I wanted their bodies,” he added almost cruelly.

“So that you could own them.” He nodded. “But you can’t own a person, ever, Austin.” She explained, leaning in a little. “The closest you can come to owning someone in this life is marriage, and then it’s mutual. You own me… I own you… we own each other,” she added. There was a pause as she thought. “But you did want love, didn’t you?” He nodded. “You just didn’t think that you were the man for the job.” She sighed and looked around the soft glow of the restaurant again. “You were specifically told that you weren’t- that you were the man for sex and sex only.”

“Is love a job?” He cocked his head at her.

She smiled at his boyishness. “Yes,” she replied matter of factly. She leaned a little closer to him, “It’s a feeling, sometimes… but it’s also work. Sometimes it feels like a fight. Sometimes it is a fight. But I think that’s how you know it’s real.”

“What is?”

“When you fight for it until there’s no fight left. When you sacrifice, and are honest and open and tell one another the worst possible things about each other…” as she spoke a single tear began to form and fall. She was thinking about all of this in regards to Vincent. “And you work them out for one another.”

“You’ve always accepted me as I am,” he said hoarsely.

“Doesn’t mean that I’m in love with you,” she reminded.

It stung. He still had such a long way to go. His eyes found hers. –Non hai idea di quanto profondamente mi faccia male in questo momento. Ti voglio così tanto. Non solo il tuo corpo, Marielle. Voi. Tutti voi, per sempre. Voglio possederti. Voglio che tu mi possieda. Mi piace essere sotto il tuo controllo, tesoro.  

“Don’t do that,” she begged. “I told you I have no language that I can use to hide from you.”

“It’s all that I can do, right now,” he looked down into his mostly finished plate. His stomach was satiated, his mind, body, and desire was not… far from. “Let me keep it for now,” he swallowed. “I’m trying to work myself out with you.”

She drummed her lip for a moment, “And what have you discovered?”

He took in a deep gulp of air and let it out slowly, “Behold, I am a dead man.” He smoothed his tie down and sighed.

 

***

 

Both walked quietly along the water’s edge on the cobblestone road for a while after the meal. There was a bridge and lamplights lighting their way.

A man in a mime costume was juggling and gathering a small crowd, and a cart stood near him with a short, rotund man selling gelato. Austin stopped, and bought chocolate, then proceeded to share it with her as they walked, both sharing the spoon. At one point he fed it to her; she smiled and took it without complaint.

“I’m sorry, I don’t have any butterscotch syrup,” he said quietly as he offered her another bite, which she took.

“Do you like sharing the spoon?” She taunted.

He leaned close to her temple and whispered into her ear, “I have wanted to taste you since the moment I met you… that’s why I offered you my beer that day when we did twenty-five questions,” he did it again now and she gasped, “Why I insisted that you take a bite of your own souffle,” he smirked. She was frozen, her knees weak. Right. He’d done all of that. “So I could taste you.”

She swallowed hard, trying not to squirm as warmth passed down her core. He smirked and gently kissed her temple before pulling back. “Please don’t do that to me, right now,” she shuddered, wanting him to do so much more.

“Oh, later?” he asked, flicking a brow at her. She sighed and looked off to the water. “But there is no later, is there?” he asked, sadly. “We could only have right now,” he reminded. “And I only know how to go too far,” he hung his head. All his dark hair fell into his eyes. “I’m sorry.” There was silence for a moment. She wouldn’t look at him. “I told you; I’m going to push it for a while. I’m used to pushing it.”

“It just makes me feel like all that you want-”

“I’m sorry,” he said coming to her side. “I really am.” He was being truthful. “But look, at some point in all of this…” he licked his lips, and a strong, stiff breeze caught them both. “My heart got involved-”

“Don’t you do that,” she growled cutting him short. She still refused to meet eyes with him. “Don’t you tell me heart right now.” She looked down.

“I’m sorry, it’s the truth.” She growled, frustrated, turning away. He grabbed her wrist, and turned her back to him. “Don’t walk away,” he begged, gently. She tried to push away, “look at me… look at me,” he insisted, his tone calm and desirous. She dared it, eyes meeting eyes. -Am I lying?

In that moment she didn’t care if he was being honest. Her eyes glittered a bit in the lamplight above, and her true fears could no longer hide themselves. She had to speak them before her mind did it for her. “You’ve left nothing for me!” She burst out, and at this, he let her go and she gently pulled back. “You’ve left nothing for me,” she repeated shaking her head. His gaze focused on her empathetically, his brows knitting together in a desperate attempt to understand. “I wouldn’t even be the first to call you husband,” she whispered shakily. A sharp pain spread across his chest. That’s what she meant. She turned away from him and went to the cobblestone wall that looked over the water.

“Is that part of your…trepidation?” he whispered, taking a step toward her. “Part of your fear?” Silence. He couldn’t tell if she was crying or not, he continued. “That I’ve left nothing for you? Nothing of myself to give you? No…no firsts?” She nodded slowly. He wanted to cry, but wouldn’t, or couldn’t, he wasn’t certain which.

“I mean, let’s be honest, it’s not like there is anything that you can give me anymore that is new. You’ve done all of it and with what- like half the country?” She scoffed, looking out over the water.

He was looking down; shame, perhaps. “Actually, there might be,” he explained.

She looked back at him incredulous, an eyebrow raising slightly, “Oh yeah? What…?” She asked bitterly.

He swallowed and their eyes found one another for a moment, “Nah, it’s- you might think it’s stupid,” he said, hands on his hips, swiveling away from her.

Her eyes lit up with interest and regret for her tone. “No, no… Austin, tell me,” she calmly pleaded.

He nodded slowly, and rolled forward on the balls of his feet, then back, “Uh… I – I haven’t kissed anyone…” he stuttered. “I haven’t kissed anyone on the mouth again since… since Erin.”

Her mind was like a computer spinning the little fan as it tried to process. “You’ve been saving… a kiss?” She asked, searching his blue eyes. He nodded. “Why?”

He looked off at the water for a moment, lifted a hand, gesticulating in the air for a moment. “I don’t know, it seemed- sacred or something.” Then he started to speak quickly, “look your mouth is where your words come from, and it conveys the most intimate and deepest of thoughts and feelings and – well, actually,” he paused, correcting himself, “for you and I that’s more like our minds, but still-” his voice trailed off, he didn’t know what he was trying to say anymore. He scratched the back of his head and put his hair behind his ears with both hands.

“So you do see some things as sacred.”

His eyes fluttered closed, then opened again. He bent at the knees, bouncing a little. “Of course I do, Marielle.”

She felt like something had hit her in the side of the head. She couldn’t have possibly guessed this about him. Then she put her fingertips to her mouth, realization coming over her. “That’s why you want to kiss me so badly,” she breathed. He briefly closed his eyes knowing how much he’d given that one away over the past few months with his lip biting, tugging, licking, and so on. “Y-you want to give your kiss away…to me?”

He opened his arms up as if to say, ‘you got me,’ and nodded, giving her a ridiculously dumb smile. Then he hung his head between his shoulders and shook it. “Yeah…pretty dumb.”

She slowly turned back toward the water, as she thought in silence for a few moments. “No, actually, Austin… it’s beautiful.” She took in a deep pull of air, “I’m – I don’t know. I feel special that you want to give me your kiss.” She said realizing that he hadn’t even kissed her that night at his house.

“That was the idea.” He looked off, filling his lungs with the crisp air of the evening. He thought that he heard motorcycles in the distance. Then the sound disappeared. He came closer to her again, “But you shouldn’t feel special that I want to kiss you… you are special, and I want to kiss you. End story.”

“And how many women have you told that to?” She asked, glaring at him. “How many women have you given the you’re special line to?”

He exhaled, again, she had him. She was throwing all the punches tonight, and almost all of them were connecting. “A lot,” he admitted. “I am quite aware that you’re not going to bed with me tonight.” He sighed. “No, we’re going to go back to our rooms, you’re going to be with Vincent, I may or may not hear it all. I might hear your thoughts… and whether I do or not, I’m going to know that you’re thinking about me the whole time,” he said flatly. She looked mortified. “It’s fun.” He looked off again, other senses more alert now. “I’m fairly certain that you are my punishment for the life I’ve chosen to live,” he nodded. “It was bound to happen, right? Finally really want something and you can’t have it because you’ve overindulged in everything else?” He chuckled ironically. “And you realize that you actually never really wanted all of the other crap that you indulged in, it was just something to do, or a way to waste time or quell anxiety and pain…” he hissed angrily at himself. He ran his fingers through his hair. “Then you get to die alone.” He shook his head.

“What do you want from me, Austin?” She growled. “I can’t fix your life, your decisions or your past.”

“No,” he said. Then he came close to her again, and took her hand. Hand seemed to be okay; a safe zone. She wasn’t always pushing him away when he did this. “But you can tell me that you want this,” he explained, pulling her against him again. “That you want to be here in my arms.”

“You’re still pushing me,” she seethed, pushing back away from him again.

He growled, looking down. “Excuse me for wanting a little more after the plane, you were all over me,” he reminded.

“Yeah, my mistake. I won’t let it happen again,” she hissed, cruelly.

“Don’t do this.” He rubbed his mouth with his fingertips. “You are going to drive me mad, woman,” he said under his breath.

“Ironically enough,” she looked at the water again, “I think I already have,” she said, referring to their doubles.

He thought about this for a moment, trying to understand what she was saying.

A voice fuzzed into his earpiece. He had almost forgotten that he was wearing it, it had been so quiet. “Austin,” at first he thought it was Vincent. But the tone was a bit off. “It’s Chamber.” He listened. “Don’t alert Marielle that we’re talking.”

Austin coughed into his hand, signaling that he was listening without letting her know, and turned slightly to the left to watch the mime that was now far behind them. “Yeah,” he whispered, she definitely didn’t hear him over the water, the night air and the gentle sounds of the city around them.

There was a pause, and a sigh. “Tala is dead.” Austin closed his eyes, sadly, and glanced down. “Don’t tell Marielle yet. Just watch her. The other Austin knows she’s with you.” His eyes widened for a moment in concern and he looked around, as if a ghost may be just on their tail somewhere. The street was open, there was peace. “Just keep her safe, Austin.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“We’re coming to you, hold down the fort as long as you can.”

“I can do it. But we’re out walking,” he whispered.

“Just slowly make your way back to the rental.”

The voice fuzzed out.

Austin was alert, now. He was certain those motorcycles were not good. He hadn’t heard them in a while, but they were certainly part of what was going on with the rest of the group. They were looking for them.

Marielle went up the bridge a little and leaned over the railing looking over. Something was glittering in the distance on the water and she stared at it for a moment trying to make it out.

“Oh, that’s Venice,” he said quietly. She smiled softly, but her teeth chattered as her skin began to burn again. She squirmed a little and groaned. His fingertips brushed her skin, “I’ve got you, darling.”

She was silent through her gratefulness. “What did you sing to me on the plane?”

He thought for a moment, forgetting that he’d even done this. “Oh, it’s a famous Italian lullaby. It’s for babies,” he said dismissively as he shook his head, still alert and ready. She shivered a little, and he slipped his jacket over her shoulders. Standing behind her was making him lose good judgment. She smelled so good, and her hair was beautiful, long and perfect. He found his fingertips brushing the ends of her long braid, and gently pinching it, rubbing it between his finger and thumb. He didn’t know if she knew or not, but it didn’t stop him.

Swallowing, he dared his hands on her arms, and tenderly guided her away from the railing. At first, she thought that he was going to hold her, instead, he slowly spun her under his arm and when she came back against his chest, he dipped her over his knee and brought her back up. Now he was holding her.

“I-” she wasn’t sure if she wanted to protest or not.

“I told you that I was going to hold you some time before I took you back tonight and I meant it,” he whispered. “Just hold, nothing more.” He was looking around, ready for that fight that he knew was right on the horizon and his chest was hurting. Tala was dead… This hadn’t sunken in for him yet, and he knew that someone was going to reveal it to her shortly, and his head spun trying to imagine what that would mean for her. She was going to breakdown, and the very thought of it was making his jaw tense. “Do you… do you feel safe here?”

“No.”

He looked hurt and his next word came out sadly. “No? Wh-what do you feel?”

“In danger.”

“Of what?” he asked, curiously.

“Losing myself.” She pushed back again, and tried to turn, his hands were still around her middle and they went with her.

He was still looking around, though. And she finally noted this and paused. “What’s wrong?” She asked. He forced a smile at her. It was so obviously false. “Austin,” she begged. He didn’t mock her back. Oh no… “Don’t keep things from me, tell me,” she ordered looking around now, as well. “You’re trying to distract me, aren’t you?” She breathed. She backed away, continuing her scan of everything around them. She was pressing her own earpiece in her ear, but she figured at this point it probably didn’t matter. Whoever had called Austin wanted to keep things from her. Was it Han? It was Han, wasn’t it? Her chest felt like it was getting tight. “What’s happened?” He shut his mind off so he wouldn’t tell her inadvertently. “Is it Vincent?”

“No.” He shook his head.

For a moment she felt relief, then she put her fingers over her mouth. “Someone died.”

She pulled back even further from him, looking around frantically as panic crept in.

He grabbed at her, trying to quiet her. “Stay calm, darling, there’s nothing we can do about it right now.”

“Stop it! And let me go, you cold hearted snake.”

Austin took a step back and looked down, angrily. “And we’re back to the snakes.”

She paused and eyed his arm over her shoulder. “Yeah, what is it with that tattoo, anyways?”

He pocketed his hands, pursed his lips, and shook his head once. “I just… couldn’t tell ya.”

“What were you drunk or something?” She hissed, now infuriated with him now for his pushing, and refusal to let her in on what was happening with Vincent and everyone else.

And before he could give her any sort of an answer, a shot rang out from down the street, the bullet hurtling straight at them.