Not blinking. Not flinching.
"I don't think you want to kill me, Mr. Morton."
Lifting her chin, she bravely faced him even though he threatened to put a bullet hole in her body as soon as she made a wrong move or said the wrong words.
"Is that so?" His lips suddenly curved into a devilish smile, as if he found her behavior entertaining.
Still, his sharp eyes watched her like a hawk. Studying her as if he could not wait to catch her lie.
"Then, tell me..." This time, he pointed the long barrel of his gun from her jugular vein into her temple, "...why I shouldn't blow your brains out..." intentionally invading her space, "...right here and right now." and menacingly whispering closely into her ear.
She knew she should be afraid, but she wasn't. Not really.
The man was the epitome of danger, but a part of her, for whatever reason, harbored this stupid idea that she could trust him. That despite his threats, he would never harm her.
She knew she should be furious, but she couldn't. Not even if she had every reason to be.
What was wrong with her?
In her mind, she knew she should hate him, but her heart didn't seem to share the same sentiment.
As her eyes got a better glimpse of his face, she could not stop the memories from flooding in. Suddenly, all her suppressed emotions had burst to the surface, bombarding her with longing for the love she had lost, but at the same time, the pain of losing the people she loved.
Anyway, whatever she thought of him or what she felt about him, he held the key to her revenge.
"Because..." With her heart pounding wildly inside her chest, she swallowed the lump stuck inside her throat and continued. "...because...You see, Mr. Morton... You need me."
"And I need you to accomplish my plans." Silently, she mumbled.
Not wanting him to think that he intimidated her, she stood her ground. Keeping her composure, or whatever was left of it.
"Hmm..." A cynical smile appeared on his lips, "How do I need you?" Seemingly unimpressed. "Miss...?" He mockingly asked, raising his eyebrows in question.
"Sophia Maddison." She confidently supplied her name, careful to keep her voice steady while shying away from his scrutiny. Afraid that if he looked at her long enough, he might uncover all her secrets.
Still, she could only hope that he didn't recognize who she was.
After all, six years ago, she had stopped being Amelia Clarke. She was not the same girl who got bullied back in high school. Not the chubby girl who wore shabby clothes and thick glasses.
Not the nerd that was picked on. Not anymore. Not after the accident.
"Maddison? Hmm?" He didn't even bother to mask his suspicion. "Ok, Sophia. Enlighten me." All of a sudden, he lowered his gun, moved across the room, and settled on the couch.
He just sat there comfortably, watching her.
Even though he had lowered his guard, she knew she was not out of the woods yet.
She had to play her cards right. No room for mistakes.
"You need a wife." Remembering the conversation she had with her boss.
She surmised that all the single ladies who attended this party were probably auditioning to be his bride.
"Maybe..." His response was vague as he leaned back and crossed his legs. "So, what?" Lighting a cigarette and puffing a thick cloud of smoke in the air.
With a deep breath, she dared to ask. "Then, marry me, Mr. Oliver Morton?"
It was a dumb idea. She knew that. She would probably regret it later once the enormity of what she had done had sunk in. But at that moment, it sounded like a genius plan.
At any rate, what was the worst thing that could happen?
"He would kill her?" That was already a given.
Since she had concocted this revenge plan, she had already accepted that this was a suicide mission. But she was not afraid to die as long as she could take them with her.
Anyway, marrying into the Morton family would give her a much better advantage than just working with them.
It would be easier for her to find the evidence against them to take them down if she lived with them under the same roof.
"What makes you think that you are cut out to be my wife?" Oliver asked. The smug smile on his lips was the only indication that he didn't find her suggestion offensive.
Nonetheless, his eye revealed nothing.
Immediately, she thought of a bold plan.
Without giving herself a chance to change her mind, she moved towards him and gutsily straddled him.
Honestly, she had never done anything like this before, but she guessed there was always the first time.
"I am not like any of the other women you've been with before, Mr. Morton." Seductively, she let her fingers glide across his chest.
One hand glided upward until her fingers rested along his neck. The other hand traveled downward, tracing the solid muscles that pushed against the material of his shirt.
"Ms. Sophia, are you aware that you're playing a dangerous game?" He asked, capturing her fingers that were busily tickling the five o'clock shadow along his jawline.
Then, his lips started kissing them one by one.
"I do." But really, did she? But this was not the time to back out now. To second-guess herself. "But are you brave enough to play my game?" She asked, looking him directly in the eyes.
Without giving him time to react, she kissed him.
Of course, she expected that he would push her away, but she was dead wrong, as the kiss intensified.
Damn!
She knew she should stop. This man was her enemy, but her body wouldn't let her.
She missed this. Being wanted. Being desired. Being... No! Not love.
This was not love.
Oliver saw her as an object. A beautiful woman to conquer, nothing more.
And she should feel the same way.
No! She could not fall back into his charms. Armed with this realization, she busily let her other hand wander off until she felt it.
The hard, metallic weapon that he put aside. Grabbing it, she immediately placed it on his temple, mimicking his action earlier.
Then, she gradually pulled her lips away.
"Are you gonna kill me now?" The great Mafia Don asked, but she could not see any trace of fear in his eyes as he stared at her. Only curiosity.
"No, as I said, I'm not like the woman you're used to. I know what I want, and I get it." She said confidently, while slightly pushing her body harder against his.
Damn! Nothing had changed. Her body still responded the same way to him, just as she remembered it.
"And what do you want, Ms. Sophia?" He asked, lifting his hand to cradle her chin gently against his fingers. But he never attempted to remove the gun she had placed threateningly against his temple.
The most feared man in the city just sat quietly, watching her.
"As I said, marry me?" She must have a death wish because at that moment, she just forced the Mafia Don at gunpoint to a shotgun wedding.
After staring at her for a minute or so—
Out of the blue, he casually answered. "Okay!" As if what she asked was nothing out of the ordinary.
"Wait! What!? You will?" Her eyes widened in shock, unconsciously lowering the gun.
Fuck! She wasn't expecting that.
"Aren't you going to go down on one knee and ask for my hand in marriage?" He let his finger play with a strand of her hair that had dangled across her cheeks.
How could he joke about their serious situation?
"Are you insane?" Suddenly, she didn't know what to think. "You don't even know me. I could be a psycho or a serial killer."
What started out as an impulsive idea suddenly felt like it had backfired on her. But who knew he would agree on such a ridiculous proposal?
"I seriously doubt that. But are you sure you want to marry me? Aren't you afraid that I might be a psycho or a serial killer?" Repeating what she just said.
Thinking about it, she knew it was the only way.
"There's nothing else that I want but to marry you." She finally decided this was it. There was no turning back.
Studying the man that she used to know, she wondered who it was she was going to marry. Did the man she had loved truly exist, or was it just a figment of her imagination?
What was this man planning? What was his game?
"Then, he will." Suddenly, another voice answered her question.
Damn! Who was that?