*Charlie's P.O.V*

I hear it. I hear her moan, but it barely registers at that moment. My mind is stuck on keeping momentum. My hair is her to grab. She jerks it back, and a throaty sound escapes me, eyes shooting up at her in sudden clarity.

Not even a second of processing later, we are up the steps. She pushes me unto the small bedding, raising concern for its fragility. Moonlight drips on us in from the broken top window. I push the curtains forward while Mia's mouth takes over my neck, nibbling to her heart's content.

She stops to breathe. Then she resumes with a ferocity so strange that I make a sound like a moan and a cry.

I think she just bit me. Despite my stern look, she sits on me and unbuckles my belt.

I exhale. Oh, we are... doing it?

As if she read my mind, she stops. "Are you ok with this?"

There's a pause.

I nod. I can already feel Igor's ghost above us, finding my bravado to be humorous, but... but breathe. I'm not doing this for me. I don't think I can anyway.

It doesn't matter if I don't enjoy this. What matters is Mia.

*

*

*

Mia hasn't opened her eyes since she screamed her butt off me.

I lay beside her while the party continues outside. I don't know how to explain what actually happened.  It was obvious at this point that she witnessed the board members' murder and - how could her own flesh and blood do this to her?
Though then again, they are monsters, and Mia is totally different from them. As I watch her, I can't help but also feel like a bit of a disappointment. I really tried, but maybe not enough.

Maybe I need to take medications for stamina or whatever. And for headaches. It still aches. My nerves are literal collateral damage.

And this location doesn't help. I look down to be sure the bear hasn't been brought back yet. Catching sight of a human, I quickly cover Mia and run down. I am breathless by the time I come face to face with an old man. Blinking slowly, he mumbles something.

"I don't really understand. If you can slow it a bit -"

"What are you doing here? Are you the new snack?" He switches to clear English.

My conversation with him turns out quite revealing.

*
*
Back in the mansion, I take Mia to her room. She has been asleep since.

When she wakes up, she stares at me like her mind is empty.

I ask her how she is feeling, and she widens her eyes, guiding mine to Reindorf. Reindorf lingers by the door frame. When did he get in? Why didn't he knock?

"Why do you two look unkempt? Where have you two been?"

Mia looks at him, then at me, and shrugs again. If she's confused by his question, so am I. But it doesn't take a genius to sense the awkwardness among us.

I get up to leave when suddenly, Reindorf says, "There's something we need to talk about."

"Oh, okay." I frown.

Mia spares him a cryptic glance.

Something is really going on, and they are not telling me. I can tell from the way their eyes are talking to each other. Mia covers herself further, whereas Reindorf clears his throat to speak.

"About the divorce."

A pause.

"Oh."

"Yes," he says, "We need to get it done as soon as possible. How long do you think it should take for you to sign the papers, Charlie?"

He's saying it is as if I should already have them. Mia gets up as though to explain. "I'm pretty sure we can get the divorce done as soon as possible. There's nothing to, like, discuss, especially here. Remember where we are."

"The Yeltsins already know that you married him. But that's a mistake, so let's fix it," Reindorf replies.

A mistake? I try not to look hurt.

Mia's hands shudder, balling into very tight fists. "Okay, okay, Charlie, um, yeah, you will have to sign the papers as soon as possible so that, um, it will make more sense for Reindorf's involvement in the project -"

"It's not just about the project. It's about everything," Reindorf interrupts. "Plus, you seem to have a lot going for you, Charlie. Won't it be an overload? It will be in everyone's best interest that we get back to plan and focus."

What is he trying to say? That I am distracting? Her?

Staring at Mia doesn't help. She raises her head in a nod. I frown.

*

I leave Mia and Reindorf with painful thoughts. Despite my intention to keep it hushed, my face isn't able to mask it. Not well enough to deceive Harry once I get home.

As expected, he's against the divorce, so I remind him it's Mia's choice. And...yes, I'll admit I hate it.

My goodness, I hate it. Reindorf probably doesn't deserve my loathing, but, oh well, my heart isn't in the right place to reason. And, actually, I'm also angry that he made Mia resort to blackmail. He's making her risk her life with the whole project situation, too. Why? Perhaps he doesn't see it that way, but knowing that the possible cartel war that can erupt -

No, no, I'll have to find a way to stop her from going anywhere near the project. I can't tell her and Reindorf why, so there's got to be another reason to give.

Perhaps, with regards to Pamela's case, if Mia was to testify, only Reindorf would be in Manchester, but - nope. That's not going to happen. Ugh, what reason...

*

I get a call to meet what's let of the Adiantes' cartel. Fortune has it that I won't be going with Mastro - pretending to be his sister. I'm a letterboy from Igor's batches. Mastro's captive. A nobody who will relay insider information while buying time for Mastro to 'get bodies'.

The next day, I am taken away with a sack over my head and a bodycam. The FBI already instructed my 'capturers' on how to fake my firing. All I have to do is wail, which I'm already good at, and claim to know what the Yeltsins are up to.

While I find myself on another ship by the next day, Harry returns to Joe.

Joe thanks him for coming to her birthday, to which he replies, "Thank me once the celebration is over."

"Isn't it?"

"Nope." He enters her home. "We are celebrating tonight. Adult style. None of that lame family traditions thingy."

"My family tradition is not -" Joe sighs. "Okay, they are lame. But it shows that we are united despite our challenges."

"Challenges as in Pamela?"

"Don't get me started on that witch." Joe flings her arm as if Pamela is a fly in her face. Harry chuckles.

"We are going to a club. Got some nice lingerie?"

If that doesn't knock her breath out, his next words do. "And shave."

"Harry, you know I'm old enough to be your mom, right?"

"Do you want to get laid or not?" Harry smirks. "Oh, and I bought you something."

"Oh." She smiles. "Another gift?"

Nodding, Harry pulls out a jewellery box. A grin spreads on her face as he opens it to reveal an emerald necklace.

"You like?"

Joe nods as her brain wraps around this... friendship. Harry hasn't yet tackled the elephant in the room; the fact that he should hate her.

Or could it be... that he has feelings for her? Joe wonders for the first time. She still remembers their kiss, and although she initiated it out of her inebriation, his reaction was quite... unforgettable.

And now he's so chill with her. Joe wishes he wasn't. If they'd just fucked even, she'd be able to set mental boundaries.

The boy is for fun and sex - to get over Jackson. She'd think. Nothing else.

But, nope, Harry has infiltrated her life in a completely new direction - a move no one has ever pulled on her since her sister's death.

Friendship. Yes, Joe can't help but admit. She never had a friend like her sister. Valda was Joe's only confidant, and most of Joe's secrets followed her to the grave.

Joe couldn't trust anyone else since. Not her parents. She trusted her eldest brother a little, Dolph, but the older they got, the less they interacted. Igor was next closest thing to a friend. However, as the youngest, there were things Igor didn't have to know. Things Joe thought he didn't know.

Things she wanted to hide from him to protect him. How he got to know... and how he became someone completely different is unbeknownst to her.

All Joe remembers is that her twin sister died, Dolph became father figure, she became mother figure and they both took care of an out of the blue teen Igor... while their mother grieved and father did whatever.

It took a year for Granny Pom to return to normalcy - a year in which Joe bothered Mia's father. She begged him for the sake of their friendship. She begged him to tell her if her niece, Mia, was born.

"I don't want to hear from you again. And, for fuck's sake, don't pretend we are friends. You betrayed her too. You're not even a good sister much less a friend. Of all of them, you are the worst. Framing me for nothing I did -"

"You agreed to take the fault."

"Because you promised! Because you lied. To me. To her! All you care about is looking good in front of others. Like a fucking good person, meanwhile you helped them drive her mad with - you know what? I'm getting rid of these pills. If you like, come after me. I dare you, Joe." Those were the last words from her first fake friend.

A call that began a chain of more fake companionships. Years have passed and she still struggles to make a real friend.

So. Yes. She doesn't trust herself with Harry. But she's intrigued by his blatant disregard for danger, or moral conflict, or... anything.

"Oh goodness." He frowns as he scans her cupboard. "Looks like we need to go shopping."

"Young man, respect."

"Oh, but seriously. You need to look fab and these are... mid. No offence."

"Offence taken."

"I know a mall around this area, and -"

Joe raises a brow. Harry dismisses her silent accusation, spinning her car keys around his fingers.  They drive to malls and chatter about. Joe tries mot to enjoy his company but there are times, times like this, where she wishes to talk longer. Walk longer. Try out more clothes.

"This is great!"

"This is a net, Harry."

"It covers the essentials. If you ask me, it's quite modest."

Joe shakes her head to that, trying the 'net' on. Before she knows it, she has on a trench coat with the net underneath.

Evening reigns as Harry finds them a bar to hang. Joe hangs the trenchcoat while he orders drinks. After a bit too much of drinking, he scans the crowd.

"Looking for a hookup?"

Harry smirks. "You can't be the only one having fun tonight."

"So much for the help." Joe says to mask her dismay.

Catching on, Harry taps the counter. His gaze roams until it lands back on her in happiness. "Dude at ten o'clock. Check him out."

"Oh... oh shit, he's looking at us."

"At you! Go, go -"

"Isn't he supposed to come to me -"

"Madame CEO, go!" Harry practically shoves her away.

A flustered Joe walks on to her admirer. The thirty-something looking lad inquires about Harry, and Joe calls him her assistant. Relief and embarrassment washes over the lad's face.

That face is fine enough to sit on, which she does. She pucks a fancy hotel too, when he suggests that they stay to enjoy room service, she actually considers it.

"Urrmmm... nope." She puts her heels back on.

"Busy, eh?" The lad questions. Joe nods, only for him to add, "Busy ruining innocent kids."

Then he charges at her neck. Joe gets whiplashed back unto the bed, with this strange man strangling her, rumbling something about a girl gone missing.

She tries to push him off, but his arms are sturdy. Lifting her by the neck, he throws against the wall. Hurt, Joe gets up. One of many days, she lets her guard down, and this happens.

It doesn't matter. Her guards will be in any minute. She has pressed her emergency button already, causing her watch to glow red.
The man pulls his hair back and grabs hers, throwing her once again. This time, a lamp breaks. Pieces rain on her. She looks up. The lad is holding a bottle of kerosene and a picture of a girl.