Fleur's pov:
Fillip has been recovering for a whole month now; his work was conducted by both Christian and Luc. Surprisingly enough, they didn't set the world on fire already. Who would have thought?
Sebastian had returned; however, Fillip had insisted that I would be the one taking care of his wound. It's safe to say Sebastian was truly offended: 'She doesn't even have any medical knowledge,' along with some angry Italian indecipherable words.
'You weren't even here when he got shot; I was the one who sewed him up.' I had gotten offended too.
'Shut up. Both of you. I want to sleep; it's going to be Fleur, and that's it.'
That was it. I have been taking care of him ever since. Cleaning his wound and changing his clothes when he's too tired. I'm 100 percent sure he was acting half of those times, but I didn't mind seeing his defined torso from time to time. Feeding him and all. We just removed the stitches yesterday because Sebastian said so.
According to Fillip, this was a doctor's pass to get back to work. When I entered his room, he was getting up and getting dressed on his own.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Perplexed, he looks down at himself, "I- I...think I am getting dressed."
I almost slapped him, and he grins proudly. What a terrible joke to begin with. "I am not joking with you; where are you going?"
"To work, it took me too long already." He reaches for his suit jacket, but I snatch it off his bed before he does.
"Not long enough."
"Fleur. My jacket."
Does he really think I would give it to him?
"Fillip. No."
He sighs, aggravated, then tries to pull his jacket from my hand swiftly, but I am sure he forgot he got shot less than a month ago. Maybe the incident altered his brain cells, so he ends up groaning and retreating backward instead. Crossing his arms over his chest, he looked annoyed at me.
"Get back in bed."
"You are giving orders now?"
"You got shot, so yes, I am." He got shot because he was doing something for me. The least I could do was take care of him for a while.
"I am good now, Fleur, and you helped me enough, but I need to get going." He replies in his normal cold tone while turning to his wardrobe to pull another jacket out of it.
"You are going to work like that?" I asked, pointing at his white shirt when he turned back around. He had already put on his jacket. This time, when he looks down at himself, he's truly confused, and then his eyes darken with anger from the realisation. He's bleeding. Starting by taking off his jacket, he threw it on the floor furiously; then he took off his shirt and also threw it on the floor, letting out an audible, pained groan.
Grunting as he sat down on the bed. "Well?" he asks me, pointing at his bare side. "Will you fix this?"
"Only if you aren't going to then get up and go to work and bleed to death, ask nicely while you're at it."
His nose flares and his jaw ticks as he looks at me in extreme fury. His eyes hold too much anger, but truly, I know what's behind all that. Helplessness; he can't bear feeling weak any longer, because how dare Fillip De Marco the New York City don ever depend on someone? It feels like he's shackled, and he can't do anything about it. No one knows he got shot; apparently, Raffael hadn't told Alberto he shot Fillip. Maybe he still has some loyalty to him after all.
Because of that he needs to get back as soon as possible to his meetings and to his operations, but right now isn't soon. If he, by any means, bleeds mid-meeting, then they will all know he got shot. According to him, they can't. Who are the 'they' in question, I have no idea.
"I won't go." I raise my eyebrow at him in question. "I am a man of my word, Fleur. I am not going. I can't go like that anyway. Now get here and fix this."
He won't ask nicely, so I won't push him, he already feels beaten down. I wash my hands in the bathroom, bringing the first aid kit out with me. Crouching in front of him, I remove the last bandage that got stained and start to clean his wound. The stitches had left some scars, but after all the time I have been helping Fillip, they truly felt insignificant after all the scars I saw on his body.
'I got this when I was 12,' he said after I touched one on his chest when I thought he went to sleep. He also liked to sleep shirtless, which made it even harder not to study the scars on his chest, torso, and stomach. I wanted to know the stories behind them all when I saw them up close.
'My father loved me, maybe too much, more than all the kids I have been raised around have been loved by their dads.' He told me with a smile on his face.
'You could have truly called me spoiled until one day I got into a fight, and I couldn't defend myself. We were not a big family back then, but we were close and had a fine business. However, for Dad, that was such a disgrace; he made me fight with one of his guards. I held my ground for 10 minutes before he caught me off guard because I was resting; hence, that scar on my chest.'
I was horrified while listening to him, and he laughed when he saw my face, saying, 'Trust me, it's not as bad as it sounds; the wound wasn't deep.'
While working on this one, he never took his eyes off of me, even if I wasn't looking him straight in the eye. I could feel his focused gaze on me, but it was never unsettling. Finally, when I was done, he caught my hand in his, pulling me to stand up, then pulled me some more to sit on his lap.
Wrinkles formed around his eyes as he settled me down on his lap, a low grunt escaped him. Gaping at him while he held my two hands between his larger two, my breath hitched. We gazed at each other, wondering if what we are doing right now was right. Yes, I forgave him for not telling me about his daughter, but he still used me in LA. Was this really the right thing to do? Just because he was in pain and because I missed him?
After a long while of staring into his tired face and his sunken grey eyes, he let out a low, "Fuck it," before letting go of one of my hands. His thumb was on my face while the rest of his rough hand was placed at the back of my head, behind my hair, pulling me closer to him. He kissed me tenderly, and that's how it stayed. Calm, unlike everything he's been since the day I arrived here. One of my hands landed on his chest, and I could feel his heartbeat. Calm too, while my own raced and pulsed. My other hand stayed locked in with his, and the grasp on it only got tighter with the second.
My lips escaped his, but only for a second before he caught them again with his, their prisoner, because I truly couldn't let go. I could have kissed him until the last ounce of my breath left me and until my soul parted with my body. I could have kissed him until death, and I would have died euphoric.
When Fillip let go of my lips, he let out a long, pained breath as he laid his head on my chest, his hold on me unyielding. His body shuddered, and I decided he couldn't stay without a shirt like that. He held on to me tighter, if that was even possible anymore, when I tried to get up and away from him.
"You saved me, Fleur." His voice tremored.
"You saved me," Fillip repeated as his red-stained, watery eyes looked at me full of sorrow. "Not just when you stitched up my wound, but when I closed my eyes, I saw you. I only saw you. Not the woman who was in my office, not any woman I have had in years. It was you, I saw your smile and your blue eyes, I heard your laugh and you made me hold on Fleur. You made me hold on because...I wanted to see you before I died."
My own lips quivered as I listened to his words, and my heart was torn apart by his sudden openness and burst of emotion. Before I could even find the words to answer, he carried on, "Thank you. I never quite said it right."
"You never had to."
"Yes, I did." He insisted while letting go of me, allowing me to get up. I didn't want to, but if I stayed any longer, his wound would start bleeding again. As I was getting up, I gave him a soft kiss on his cheek and said, "You are welcome Fillip."
Just as I got off of him and he got dressed into more comfortable clothes rather than his usual suit, Mia came running through his bedroom door, jumping for him to catch her. Despite the unhealed side he did, he kissed her and smiled at her. I stood watching them, admiring how caring he is with his daughter, although I don't agree with keeping her in a locked room in a wing of the house. I thought I would talk with him about that matter later.
Christian then came in to talk about work, and while he was talking with Fillip, our eyes met. Mine and Fillip. Something settled there in our gazes. A sense of understanding and peacefulness. For the first time, his eyes were truly resolved when he was looking at me, rather than being frenzied. I took Mia, and we went outside so Fillip and Christian could continue talking about their work.
I went out looking for Nina; enough was enough already, and it had been a month. Plus, Mia wanted to stay in her fairytale of a room. So I decided I would use this as an excuse to talk to her. She's been trying for a while too, but I've been ignoring her. She was my only friend, and I can't keep going on like this, not anymore.
Fillip's POV:
I wasn't able to let her go; after our kiss, I wanted to hold her forever. Her body fit between my hands just as perfectly as it had that day we danced together. She was keeping me sane. She did everything for me, and in return, I gave her a miserable life. Trying to find her sister would never right the wrongs I did to her. I couldn't let her go, but I had to, and so I did. I truly let her go. The way she kissed my cheek didn't help my urge to try and keep her beside me till my death. When I looked into her eyes, I realised that for the first time in years, I had felt content, and it was all thanks to her.
I realised everything she was after that shot—how perfect she was, her sweet scent, her sharp eyes, and her face. They glowed slightly differently, illuminated by a new light inside my heart and eyes. If I could have trapped her picture in my irises to see her all the time, I would have done it. There was no need to do that, though, for her picture was already scraped into the back of my mind every time I closed my eyes. Sculptured with the sharpest of blades, her silhouette never quite departing.
I would be seeing Fleur everywhere now, just as I did with Marie. It was a curse with her, but with Fleur, whether it would be a blessing or something worse, I still don't know. What I know is that I have to go on with the decision I made. Either that, or she would be trapped here, with me, forever.