Page 21 of Stalk (Assassin’s Kiss Duet #1)

Mattia

I didn’t choose this life.

I don’t understand Ren’s words. He is obviously a mess. I knew that from the moment I found him in Helena’s apartment. Dark circles under his piercing green eyes. Always fidgeting—bouncing his knee or picking at his fingernails or running an unsteady hand through his dark hair.

I know there’s more to Ren; there’s something hidden behind the mask he thinks he wears so well.

The thing is, I study people for a living.

Before I take their lives, anyway. Mannerisms and body language are as easy for me to understand as my native tongue.

So, there’s no doubt in my mind that Ren is struggling.

Unhappy. Miserable, even. He keeps a lot locked inside.

I don’t fail to notice how much it’s tearing him apart.

But I cannot deny the beauty in him, even in the state he is in.

I push away the thoughts of when I woke from my wet dream, but it’s no use.

Despite his dark circles, the way he fidgets, how unsure of himself he is—I can admit that he is beautiful—with his slim frame, flawless skin, and piercing eyes.

I shift in my seat, crossing and uncrossing my legs, then drink more wine, hoping that consuming more alcohol will bring me back to my senses somehow.

Never in my life has a person of the same sex had me so confused.

“What do you mean?” I finally ask, avoiding his gaze and instead staring into the liquid in my glass. Perhaps like me, Ren is also in the killing business through his family ties. That’s the only thing I can think of if he didn’t choose this life.

I hold my breath and wait. I know he will take his time in answering me, and that’s okay.

I can be patient when I want to be. Even though it’s utterly annoying.

What’s more annoying is how unsure of himself he is.

Like speaking a simple sentence out loud is life and death.

We may not know each other very well, but that’s what bothers me the most about Ren.

So far, anyway. I’m sure I’ll discover more by the end of tonight.

At this point, I hope he gives me more reasons to dislike him.

“My mother chose this life,” Ren says so softly, I have to lean in to hear him.

“But she died a couple weeks after I turned eighteen.” I don’t say anything, because I can tell there’s more to this story.

“I didn’t know what she did. I grew up in her house my entire childhood believing that she was a nurse who worked the night shift.

She put on scrubs and everything. Why wouldn’t I believe her?

So, imagine my shock when I’m taken from my bed in the middle of the night three years later, only to find out that my mother didn’t fulfill her contract for her company.

Because of that, her closest family relative had to take her place.

” I swallow roughly, my throat suddenly feeling sore with emotion.

Fuck. I don’t usually… feel bad for others.

Not unless they’re part of my family unit.

“Is it the same in your company?” Ren whispers.

Slowly, I shake my head. “We are employed for life for obvious reasons, but if someone leaves the job prematurely, we do not recruit within their family.” Because they are all part of our family already, I think to myself.

Ren lets out a humorless laugh. “If only she’d been a part of your company.”

Ren’s hands are clasped together tightly in his lap, making his knuckles pale. It hardly looks like he’s breathing. His eyes are focused on the bar table, distant. Like he’s reliving the horrible night he was taken. More than likely, that’s exactly what he’s doing.

“How long?” I ask.

His face turns to look at mine. “Ten years. I’ve completed one and a half.” He sighs. “But something tells me that if I make it long enough to actually complete that contract, I won’t just get to walk away. She’ll get rid of me in one way or another.”

“Your boss?”

“Yeah.”

“She sounds like a bitch.”

“That’s an understatement, but sure.”

I think over everything Ren has confided in me thus far and consider how we met, coming to the most probable conclusion. “You do not share the passion your mother had for what we do.”

“Another understatement.” Ren takes the last sip from his glass. “I thought I’d be finishing up my undergraduate degree by now. I thought I’d be preparing for med school—not—not this. I wanted to save people for a living. Ironic, isn’t it?”

“Is that why you think she set you up?”

Ren shrugs. “I am definitely a disappointment to her. But as much as I despise the work, I get it done. No matter what, though, nothing I do is ever good enough for her.”

“I think we need to talk about this in more depth. In private.”

Ren snorts. “What more is there to discuss?”

A lot more. A lot.

Something tells me I won’t be getting rid of Ren anytime soon, after all.

Twenty minutes later, after we each had one more glass of wine at the bar, I finally convince Ren to come back to my hotel so we can talk in private.

Granted, it might not be under the greatest circumstances.

Even though I’m used to drinking wine, I’m feeling tipsy, and Ren definitely is, too.

That’s fine with me, though, because I’m not sure I’d get Ren to open up like this if he was sober.

I wait until getting the confirmation text from Marco that he’s parked outside before I tell Ren it’s time to leave.

If I was traveling with someone else, I would never have brought Ren around after Zìa’s orders to stay away.

Zìa may be Marco’s direct boss, but he’s here for me, and I trust him to not rat me out.

He knows I wouldn’t disobey Zìa unless I thought it was important.

We hop in the back seat of the SUV, because despite my very mixed feelings about Ren, I don’t want him to feel uncomfortable.

He doesn’t know Marco, and I’m sure he’s still skeptical about me as it is.

If so, the feeling is mutual. I want to help him, because it seems like he has no one locally who can, but that doesn’t mean I trust him.

“Ciao, ciao,” Marco greets our visitor once we’re strapped in. “I am Marco.”

Ren attempts to send Marco a pleasant smile, but it just looks like he smells something bad. “Ren.”

“Not much of a talking man, eh? I like him!” Marco laughs.

At first, I think I hear Ren say something, but it’s so quiet, I can’t be sure. Then, Ren clears his throat and speaks louder, with more confidence. “They.”

Marco goes quiet.

I ask, “They? Who are you talking about?”

Even in the dark car, I notice Ren fold into himself. Something has made him uncomfortable, but I don’t understand what. He continues to confuse me, over and over again.

“I’m non-binary,” Ren says. He— they swallow roughly. “I prefer they-them pronouns, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not!” Marco reassures quickly. “Grazie. I like that you tell me.”

I look at Ren, finally feeling like I understand them. “Loro. In Italian, we refer to they-them as loro.”

“Loro.” Ren tries the word out. “I like that.”

Where I come from, we are very accepting of the LGBTQIA community.

I grew up around many queer people across the LGBTQIA spectrum.

My Prozìa Beatrice married her wife in her forties, and they both died old and happy, only two months apart from one another.

But this is a new one for me. I’m sure I’ve met nonbinary people before, only I didn’t know—just like with Ren.

I’m not very familiar with what it means or why some people are nonbinary and others are not.

I hope I don’t mess up Ren’s pronouns. I’m going to try not to. Either way, I’m glad they told us.

Somehow, within the last half hour or so, I realize that Ren is less annoying to me. They aren’t making me feel as violent as last time. I don’t know why, or what that means. I shift uncomfortably in my seat.

My thoughts consume me, and as Ren and Marco make small talk, I look out the window and stare at the Washington monument in the distance.

I wish the city lights could ease all the pesky feelings rising up to the surface thanks to alcohol and getting to know Ren more.

I wish I was back home in Venice on my balcony, overlooking the plants and smoking a cigarette.

Fuck. A cigarette sounds like exactly what I need to chill out.

“Are you okay?” Ren asks, their voice slurring just a little as we pull up to the hotel, bringing me back to D.C.

I nod. “Sì. My thoughts are keeping me quiet, that is all.”

They purse their lips in a silent understanding that doesn’t go past me.

“I’ll park, you get out now,” Marco says with a yawn. “See you in the morning, Mattia, unless you need me.”

“Buona notte.”

Ren and I hop out of the car. They follow my footsteps into the lobby and toward the elevators. As soon as the doors slide open, I almost bump into Rachel, who’s apparently just come down from one of the floors above.

Fantastico.

“Oh!” Rachel’s eyes grow wide and playful as she steps out. “Mattia, how are you?” She slides her gaze over to Ren, curious about my companion.

My cheeks suddenly feel like they’re on fire. “Well, and you? My friend, Joseph, stopped by to catch up.”

“That’s lovely. Nice to meet you, Joseph.” She nods to Ren. “I’m well, Mattia, thank you. Text me or call me tomorrow?”

“Absolutely,” I say, lying through my teeth. Marco and I are being moved to a rental house nearby tomorrow, which I’m certain Zìa has already informed her of. Perhaps she still thinks we will have that second date. I couldn’t imagine why—especially with how it ended.

Rachel struts away and Ren and I step into the elevator while I try to shake off the heavy embarrassment coating my skin. I exhale a long sigh of relief when the elevator doors slide closed and we start our ascent.

“She was looking at you like she wanted to eat you,” Ren says all of a sudden, sounding like they’re trying to suppress a laugh.

My cheeks blaze again. “Silenzio.”