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   Chapter 24 A Change Meeting

The Fancy Pants Club By JMFelic Characters: 12474

Updated: 2018-06-01 15:14

POV: Daniella

Monaco, France

One Year Ago

My mother's family has a grapewine business and with that, of course, they have a vineyard. Since I was little, every harvest time I visit here with her for both as a vacation and an additional manpower. I enjoy being in France more than I do in New York. I had begged my mother a couple of times for us to settle in her childhood land, but due to our business circumstances, it always ended up with a no.

The time the grapes are harvested is considered to be the émile Family's secret of superb wine quality, and since I am my mother's daughter and an émile, I am shared with this well-guarded secret. At early dawn, when mist still lingers and the vines are at their freshest proved to be the best time where the picker can choose the most promising batches.

Hardworking and excited as I am, I was in the vineyard earlier than the supposed perfect time. There were no workers yet except for two old maids who I can see a few yards away from me. Wearing a coat, boots and skinny jeans, I let myself get immersed with the surrounding nature as I stood in one of the thousands of vine rows.

The dark sky had the beginnings of a violet and orange tinge. The grey and white clouds were feathery and easy to look at. Fresh cold air flushed my lungs as I inhaled deeply. There were chirping of birds nearby and I would have reveled on the sweetness of their tune if not for the gunfire that suddenly resounded throughout the entire area.

I spun around to where I think was the source, but as I did, a towering shadow of a man bumped into me and threw me off-balance. With a yelp, I fell on the ground with a unceremonious thud on my back. I hadn't had time to collect myself when the intruder's hand quickly shot up right in my face and covered my mouth to stifle what had been a supposed glorious scream.

Fear of my safety easily tore right through me. I am not a coward, but under these circumstances, it was natural to feel this way, especially when I saw his face covered with a blood-splashed black motorbike helmet. My heart rate double-worked all the more when my distraught eyes strayed to the man's other hand. It was holding a freaking deadly weapon: a silver gun. The fact that he was wearing an ensemble of black leather coat and pants didn't help at all too. He looked dangerous all in all.

Thinking that this was the gunman, instead of pulling his hand away from my mouth, I collected soil in the palm of my hands and in a flash, threw it in his face.

The face shield was pulled up, so his eyes were the only part that was visible, and the only part that I could use to my advantage. Unluckily for me though, he had damn quick reflexes and easily swerved his face to the right to avoid my meager attack.

He held my mouth tightly enabling me to get suffocated and this time, I panicked. I squirmed and thrashed my hands in every direction.

'Unhand me!', 'Let me go!, 'Help! Help!' were the words that clouded my thoughts as I fought myself back to freedom.

His dominating strength came not a surprise when he swiftly pulled me up the ground and situated himself on my back. This position turned out to be in his advantage because it locked me in my place with his strong free arm on my waist.

This time, feeling helpless, stream of tears slipped from my eyes.

"Be still and stay quiet woman, " was his swift decree behind me. It was muffled by the helmet a bit but I could still make out the words just fine.

"Mmmmh..." was my answer but if not for his hand restraining my speech, it would have came out to be a weak, 'Please release me...'

"I will not kill you, I promise, " he stated as if to reassure me, but like he

king, but I let him do the task instead; never taking the handkerchief to clean my fingers myself. My eyes rested on the silver gun he placed on the ground near his knee and blankly stared at it for quite some time.

"What's your name?" Out-of-the-blue, he asked.

I glanced up. "Pardon?"

"I asked what your name is." He shook his head and cleared his throat as if he was disappointed on something. "Or better yet, don't answer. We—"

"Daniella, " I cut in. "My name is Daniella."

We exchanged glances... yes, heavy ones, until my attention was caught on a certain dark figure lurking and eavesdropping us from the barn window.

My breathing stopped when I got a clearer view of what he was holding. It was a gun and its mouth was pointed directly at my companion's back.

What happened next was me not thinking about the consequences.

"No!" I screamed as I pushed him aside and jumped in front to take the bullet instead.

Pain. Excruciating pain was what I instantly felt in the upper part of my abdomen. With both hands, I nursed the area and felt heat and panic rising inside me when I saw blood gushing profusely into my hands.

In the blink of an eye, a strong tug in my elbow brought me lying down the ground and then I saw my captor sitting awkwardly in my side with both hands lifted in the air and with the silver gun pointed at the window.

The ensuing events happened so fast, so sudden that the only thing I could make out from my numbing brain was the dark figure being shot at, the barn door opening to admit men in suits and more gunfires being released.

I guess he won for one by one these men dropped lifeless on the ground. Thank God.

"Daniella. Daniella!" I then heard my captor shout. He scooped me from the ground with both of his arms and lifted me up to meet his face.

From my blurring vision, I saw how painful his eyes looked. Was he sad? Disappointed? I couldn't make out at all for his helmet was still on the way.

Then, as if he answered my silent complaint, he took off the cursed object with one hand.

I smiled. This nameless man holding me had become my intruder, my captor and my savior all at the same time.

"Daniella, open your eyes!" he ordered but sadly, I couldn't comply. My body was so weak I could no longer feel my legs and hands anymore.

The last thing I saw before my eyes closed was this detailed tattoo on his right neck; of a black spade in the center and four red spears on the sides.

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