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"Don\'t worry, Mia. They will only report what we want them to."

"You seem uncannily cocky about this."

"Tanya is handling it. You don\'t need to worry about it," he said as he switched the channel. He was going to change it again when Cienna\'s face splashed onto the screen once again. "There you go." He turned up the sound and concentrated on what they had to say.

"The world of business is shaken up, yet again, by the loss of Cienna Marshal. As the head of several restaurants and night clubs, the woman was known for her ruthlessness. Lately, she was seen in and out of rehab for sexual deviance, alcoholism and substance abuse. Under further study, some very unsettling stories have come to the forefront..." he changed the channel.

"There is something fishy here, Jessica."

"What do you mean, Ben?" the reported on the screen read out.

"Miss Marshal was found in her apartment two days after her estimated death, yet no one really found out."

"That\'s how things work in this world."

"And no one noticed her absence? I would not believe what is being shown to us, Jessica. We\'ve all seen her body and heard the speculations. I smell a conflict here. I say she messed with the wrong people."

"That would make sense. The tight-lipped attitude that the police is displaying does raise suspicions, as well."

"They\'re all falling for the stories. Let them keep speculating..." I heard him mumble under his breath.

"So, you\'re basically feeding the stories of her being tied to Luke and then getting him noticed?"

"Yes," he admitted, seemingly overjoyed.

"And then you\'re going to sugarcoat the whole thing and clear Poseidon\'s Realm\'s name from the bad books?"

"I didn\'t really think of it at first, but I have the management team working on the issue. They know how to handle negative media. I suppose their motto is, \'all publicity is good publicity,\'" he shrugged and then went back to staring at the television.

"Michael..." I called him, trying to get his attention. His head snapped in my direction and a smile spread across his lips.

"Yes?" he breathed and then smiled even wider than before.

"Turn down the television," I ordered in a low voice. He pressed a button on the remote, never looking away from me. The loud-voiced seized and all I heard was our synchronized breathing. "Thank you," I murmured. I leaned in, cradling his face in my hands and then kissing the side of his mouth.

He tried to turn his head, but I stopped him with a firm shake of my head.

I needed control. I needed to know that not everything was about revenge.

He was deeply hurt by what Cienna had done to him after all he had done for her. He had cared for her and helped her in his own special way and she had betrayed him because he could not love her romantically. She had been revealed to him, all her lies and shame naked in front of him, and he had accepted her. She had failed to realize what I precious gift that was. I never wanted to her, or turn out the way she did, but deep down I craved that he knew everything... I craved his approval. I hoped that he would understand my reasons.

My hatred for him.

The need to avenge my mother.

The need to finish my job.

My love for him.

My reasons to want to hold him close to me.

My reason to drink in his murderous yet mirthful eyes.

I wanted his affections, his irritation, his anger, and his jokes.

I wanted his mornings and his nights.

I wanted to be by his side when we fought.

I wanted to be by his side when he fought everyone else.

These were all wants... cravings that Cienna had a chance at, but she blew it. Now, I\'m stuck here craving the things that she had a shot at and wondering how I will come out of this. How I will be the person that he thinks I am. To be honest, some days I really thought he knew who I was. Then on the others, he seemed so clueless and so carefree.

It was a constant worry.

Every day, I packed my gun and tugged it into the back of my jeans, but then wondered how I would be able to pull it out if he pulled the gun on me. The dilemma ate at me, but what scared me was that it would be worse. His revenge would be scarring but would leave me alive. Those days I go back to the time when Daisy told me that it was a suicide mission, I wonder if that was what it will come down to. The gun that I loved so much, pressed against my head because I knew I couldn\'t take the pain any longer. Those days are the worst.

And then they are the best, because every time I wonder, I remember his face and his words. I believe that he would follow me to hell and drag me by the hair back into this realm so that he could watch me suffer. It was a deranged, yet comforting thought.

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