It's been a week. A whole week and nothing from Kylian. Does he expect me to wait for him when he's the one who asked for my help? Pathetic.

I mean, I guess he kinda helped me since he warned me about The Russians plan to kill me but I'm just going to pretend I found that out by myself.

I also brought my favourite gun when I went to meet him. I'm convinced he stole it. Either that or some person stole it. It's London, what do I expect?

"I'm here!" Isiah says out of breath after barging through my headroom door, hands on his knees.

"Isiah, I can't find my favourite gun," I whine, plopping onto my bed dramatically. Yeah, I called him over because of that and he better not complain.

"Do you want me to fucking stab you?" He scoffs. "Again," I add to his sentence and in return, he rolls his eyes. What? It's just the truth.

"Where's your purse?" He asks, walking into my closet. "Oi!" I huff, following suit, "Be careful with my baby aka my closet."

"Just answer the question," he grumbles, clearly having enough with my bull shit. But he loves me so it's fine.

"I have loads, idiot," I state the obvious. People who say you don't need a lot of bags just don't understand.

It's tiring having to explain to Isiah so I just hit him with the closest purse I can find. Then he hits me with a pillow. And we fight. But I always win duh.

Rolling his eyes, he picks the same purse I wore to the club and rummages through it until he pulls out something. "Fuck yes, this is why I love you," I grin as he hands me my gun and purse.

He's been with me since day one. Cliche? Yes. But it's true. Everyone deserves someone who will always be there for you.

We met a year or two after my family's murder because I came to London aka where he currently lives. I had a mission to kill him. Oopsies.

Obviously, I didn't. I mean, I stabbed him. But he stabbed me too. The idiot owns me twenty five million because that's how much the person was willing to give me if I killed him.

But instead, I killed them. Too bad, too sad. We've stuck together ever since then. Very platonically romantic, isn't it? Don't answer that.

Curiously, I look through my purse to see what other random shit I have in there. "The fuck is this," I mumble, pulling out a burner phone.

"Wow, Ivy," he gasps way too dramatically, "is this your first time seeing a burner phone?"

"Ha, ha. Very funny," I say, sarcasm dripping off my every word. "I didn't put that there, Isiah."

How the fuck did it just appear in my purse? Did someone do some bippity boppopity boo shit or what?

"Then who did? My bloody ass?" He scoffs and I roll my eyes at his words. "Not you," I mumble, "fucking Kylian."

All of a sudden, the phone starts buzzing. "Meet me at the same club - De Luca," the message reads. Oh, so now he wants me?

"Let me guess, he wants to finally see you?" He laughs and as soon as he meets my glare, he hides it with a cough. Yeah, what I thought.

But wait? Should I even come? That's what she said- not the time. Right. What was I saying again?

"Go," he shrugs his shoulders as if he can read my mind. If this mother fucker can read minds then I have no idea how he hasn't left me yet.

Oh, wait. He hasn't left because I'm the best and hottest girl he's ever met. I actually almost forgot that. Shit, I have to get my priorities straight.

Noting the confused look on my face, he adds, "I don't want to inflate your already big ego, but go, look hot like you always do."

It's not a bad idea. And I do always look hot. "¿Te dije que te amo?" I genuinely ask. (Did I tell you I love you?)

"I don't think so," he smirks, "maybe say it for me again?" Okay, now I most definitely regret saying that. He'll never let it go.

"Sorry," I sigh dramatically, "I utterly and completely hate you. That good enough?" His small smirk grows at my words and he lowers his head, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, Ivy, it's more than perfect," he mutters sarcastically as he walks out. Why is he using sarcasm on me? I basically invented it.

I take one spin around my closet and immediately grab a square collar, black dress, along with black high heels, and paired with a blazer that I'll probably won't wear and just put it over my shoulders.

Gosh, that's a lot of black but ninety percent of my closet is black outfits. Black is a hot colour. Simple as that.

After getting dressed, I stand in front of the mirror. There's no denying it at this point. I'm crazy hot. Fuck men, I have my amazing self.

Staring at myself, I pull down my sunglasses. Some loser always has to ask why I'm wearing sunglasses indoors but why not?

In an attempt at gun fingers, I point two fingers at the mirror, with my thumb up, and pretend to shoot. I retract my arm and blow the tip of my fingers.

Yeah, at this point I think I'm obsessed with myself but whatever.

Suddenly, Isiah opens the door and walks in, wearing his black cargo pants and crew neck shirt, that bring out the gold rings in his braids.

"Were you just checking yourself out?" His lips tug up into a smile. "Duh," I say as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Besides the point, I'm tagging along," he says and I let out a groan. Why am I not surprised?

"Come on, Ivory. I don't trust him," he explains himself, walking towards me and when he's close enough, he throws his arm over my shoulder. "You're like a sister to me, if he touches you, I'll kill him."

"Stop!" I yell, laughing, as he ruffles my hair teasingly. "So am I allowed? Pretty please?" He questions with hopeful eyes. "Fine," I agree, at last, rolling my eyes.



"You in?" Isiah asks through the earpiece as soon as I enter the club. "Yes, sir," I reply in a soldier tone. I have no idea where that came from.

He laughs at my immaturity before speaking again, "Remember when I told you to try to not kill him yesterday? Ignore that if he looks at you the wrong way."

"Isiah," I grumble in a hushed tone, walking around. "Bro you're the only person I like," he scoffs. His words bring a smile to my face but I'll never admit it.

He's my family. He's always been after my actual family died. I hate talking about that day. I hate even thinking about it. But lucky for me, I relive that fucking day in my nightmares.

"Miss Fernández," A guy in a black suit says, catching my attention. "Yes, very tall man?" I reply, looking up at him. Let's pretend I never said that.

"Follow me," he says simply before he turns around and starts walking. Okay, then. No context? I can't read minds, darling.

It would be cool if I could though. But teleportation is the best superpower. I can go anywhere and everywhere whenever I want.

Just a snap of my fingers and oh look I'm in your mum's bedroom. Ew, I just sounded like Thanos. Wait- even worse, I sounded like a ten-year-old kid again.

Ignoring my pain in the ass thoughts, I watch as Mr. Tall Stranger opens a door that leads to what seems like an office and as soon as the door closes, you can barely hear the blasting club music playing.

My eyes instantly meet with a pair of familiar pretty blue ones. Why am I here again? The bastard tried to kill me.

Oh, wait. Money and chance at getting back at the Russians. This shit better be worth it if I have to work with Kylian. I hate that idiot.

He pulls a cigarette away from his mouth and slightly tilts his head backwards as he blows out the smoke. Ho- no, don't finish that fucking word.

"Ivory, please," he says with a fake smile, pointing at the seat in front of his desk. "Ivory, please," I mimic him under my breath as I sit down.

I think stealing another two bottles of whiskey can make up for me being here. Maybe four? But four is close to five so I'll get five instead. But if I steal five, I might as well steal ten.

You know what, maybe I should make him buy ten for me? Girl boss thinking.

"You came," he states the obvious. "You're right, I'm here," I shrug, "so would you like to enlighten me why you very politely asked me to join you?"

Get it because the fucker didn't ask me politely? Note the sarcasm, por favor.

You know what, he didn't even ask me in general. I'm doing him a favour by being here. I feel like I can take down the Russians by myself, you know?

"Listen," he sighs, leaning in, "if we want to do this, we have to at least try to work together-"

"You listen, De Luca. I just want to get this over with, take down the Russians then go our separate ways," I cut him off.

"Okay, then," he shrugs, lifting his hips to get comfortable in his seat. "There's a mission soon."

"Soon?" I mumble to myself. "You know you need to tell me when, right?" Why does everyone expect I can read minds? I need context, idiots.

"Is Isiah your boyfriend?" He asks out of the blue. "What?" I scoff. He can't be serious right now. Right?

"Love is a distraction, Ivory. Is he a distraction?" He questions. "No, he's not," I grit out. "He's not a distraction nor my fucking boyfriend."

"Good," he mumbles. "You jealous, De Luca? You sure you don't love me?" I tease which he rolls his eyes to.

"Come on," I prod, smiling. Gosh, this is fun. "Might as well admit it since we all know it's true."

How much do you wanna bet he's hard right now? Should I go quickly peek under the desk? No, I shouldn't...

"It's in a few weeks, depends," he answers, at last, inhaling smoke. Quickly, I lean in and take the cigarette, putting it between my lips instead of his.

He just frowns his lips down, almost smirking, and watches me with amusement. Turn that frown upside down- I blame Isiah for that. Him and his shitty rhymes.

"You're welcome, I guess," he remarks, sighing dramatically. I snort at his words, immediately covering my mouth, "I didn't say thank you, darling."

He opens his mouth, obviously to retort with a sarcastic comment that can't compare to mine, but instead, a faint gunshot beats him to it.

Instantly, he pulls out a gun from under his table, cocks it, and tosses it to me. "My gun is better but okay," I mumble to myself.

"Love," he runs a hand down his face as he stands up, "it's not really the best time." I guess but I'm not going to make him think he's right.

"The Russians?" I ask, also standing up. "Yes and they're such a pain in the fucking behind," he scoffs, his accent well heard. He sounds like Klaus.

Wait- I wonder what his Italian accent is like when he speaks in Italian. Probably hot.

I'm saying his voice is hot. Not him, duh. You know, I don't think that's any better but I'll just stick with nothing about him is hot.

Because I'm never admitting that he's hot. Not that he is. He isn't. There's a gunfight happening, I should really shut up.

"Ready?" I whisper as I'm about to open the door, my voice barely heard due to the gunfire. He nods once and I quickly open the door.

I have a dress and high heels on and all of a sudden there's a gunfight? If someone ruins my outfit, I'll ruin theirs by putting a bullet hole through it.

Suddenly, I feel something cold cover my hand, guiding me through the hallways. I look down to see his hand over mine. Yeah, he's in love with me.

As soon as we make a right turn, he shoots someone and they fall on the floor. "Loser," I mumble under my breath to the dead person, earning me a glare from Kylian.

When we walk into the main part of the club, the part where the dance floor and the alcohol bars are, I notice a group of people in black. Ten people to be exact. And one person shooting them. Isiah.

I try to run to him, but Kylian pulls me back. "Let go," I whisper through my gritted teeth. I need to help him.

"Do you want to fucking die, Ivory," he scoffs. "Get your fucking guards then, Kylian, but I don't need any," I huff, and before he can reply, I rush over to Isiah.

I flip over a table and hide behind it, sitting right next to him. He glances at me with a smile. "You're okay," he says, letting out a breath of relief.

"Duh, it's me," I state before standing up, letting all the Russians see me. "Fellas, shall we?"

A bullet fires but it's not aimed at me, instead it's aimed at one of the Russians. I turn around to see Kylian with his gun pointed at the same, now dead, guy. "We shall," he replies.

"Fuck it," Isiah mumbles, stands up, and immediately starts shootings them.

Wait- how are we not dead? They literally had a ten-second open window to kill us. Eh, whatever.

I turn to face Kylian, only to see a guy heading towards him with a gun in his hands. Should I save him? Oh, fuck it.

I pull the trigger and the guy falls onto the ground, clutching his leg. Oops? At the sound of his screams, Kylian turns around.

He looks at the guy. Then at me. Then at the guy. Then back at me. Damn, no thank you? I just saved his life.

"You owe me," I tell him with a mocking smile. "Oh?" he smirks, "I'll make sure I don't forget."

"They're all dead," Isiah grumbles, stalking towards one of them who's barely alive. "Who sent you?"

Your mum- I need to stop.

After a moment of silence, Kylian shoots the poor guy. "Hey," I huff, "what was that for?"

"It wasn't like he was going to answer," he shrugs nonchalantly. "Oh, and how do you know that? Did he fucking tell you?" Isiah scoffs.

"Can't you fuck off?" Kylian retorts, taking a step towards him. "Can't you deal with The Russians by yourself?" Isiah replies. Damn.

"If you guys are going to fight, the loser has to buy me a Bugatti Chiron," I say before both of them can do anything, taking a seat at the bar.

"Ivy," Isiah sighs and turns to me, "really?" Well, duh. Why would I be joking? "Mhm," I hum, nodding my head.

"I bet you already have one," Kylian chuckles. "She does and crashed it," Isiah says and I gasp at his words.

"I did not crash it," I roll my eyes, making sure to emphasise the word not. He has no proof anyway. "Sure," he sarcastically says.

Ignoring him, I jump over the bar and grab multiple bottles of whiskey. "You know that's mine, right?" Kylian says as if I didn't know.

"Really?" I gasp sarcastically. "You're just going to steal it in front of me?" He adds, while Isiah is trying to hold in his laughter.

"I think you mean borrowing, Kylian," I correct him as I head towards the exit with Isiah.

I'm borrowing the bottles... but I'm going to drink the whiskey inside them. That counts as borrowing if you ask me.

"Fuck you!" He yells just before I walk out. "You wish you can!" I shout back. I know for a fact he wants to.



isiah is so hot

that's it bc it's true, bye

word count | 2748