There were several reasons Simon had bought a house on the outskirts of town and the low rent couldn't prevent it:

No direct neighbors, no one asking too many questions.

People usually shied away from new tenants and especially when it came to Riley. Afraid, like cornered dogs to gossip about the quiet but violent man in public, knowing full well that it would eventually play tricks on them. And now, mired in holiday preparations, things were getting worse. On a routine basis, Riley was still working. Day and night. Sometimes you let a couple of curious thoughts flit through your mind as to why he didn't want to celebrate with everyone and every other time the conclusion was the same - "it's not for him."

Because really, Ghost was like a steady black ground coffee in the morning. Never boring and became a bad habit for you, the one who liked to drink with a cigarette, helping yourself to cheer up before the working day.

What was the cigarette in this motif? Love.

- "No. I'm not leaving until we decorate your house," you tried to snap at him while the corners of your lips twitched involuntarily, holding back the urge to smile. Not only did you invite yourself into his house, but you made him decorate the living room. His perpetually calm eyes were mercilessly raping your soul in a way that made you want to look away for a second. You took a deep breath before adding more insistently," Stop looking at me like that.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he silently moved forward, keeping his eyes on the flimsy stepladder she was standing on. You were always a pain in the ass not listening to his edicts, which was annoying. A dry voice warned," "Careful," expecting another disobedience, his hand phantomically touched her back, a large palm nestled against her waist, holding her back slightly. The touch was rough encouraging you not to let your guard down, giving you a reminder of his presence nearby.

- "I'm not that clumsy, Simon," you parried sarcastically, already with a smug smile hidden from him behind locks of hair. Your fingers glued the garland to the joint between the ceiling and the wall. Your smile only grew wider, you blurted out tensely," I can't blame you for trying to keep me safe, keep going." - And so it did. He didn't know how he could let you manipulate yourself so easily. But he knew for sure that with such abilities, you would have no problem breaking into the higher ranks of the army.Negotiations would end with you stumping your enemies, or making them think their plan was your plan all along. Otherwise, the poor souls would kill themselves unable to listen to this nonsense.

- "I hate you, baby," he muttered through gritted teeth, wrapping his arm around your waist. You were playing a stupid game of chess, yet you didn't know he was always five moves ahead. A slight pressure on your stomach sent you scrambling back down the stairs, falling into his arms with a sharp intake of breath, eyes widening in fright when they met his impenetrable icy ones, "Just a monster," he continued with a sidelong glance, reveling in the grimace of displeasure painted on his young face.

Just a punishment for being too stubborn:

"Listen to me," he wheezed, carelessly tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, the inner turmoil slowly coming out through the pads of his fingers assertively tracing your jaw, grazing your bottom full lip, "Don't tease me, you know how it ends," his stern, instructive tone was a deadly weapon against anything he didn't like. There was no point in throwing a tantrum or bickering: he didn't react. Goes into another room until you come to him.

He set you on your feet staying abnormally close waiting for a response, yet the butterfly effect never worked between the two of you, no matter how much you hit the wall, both of you didn't like to lose. Clapping your eyes you said excitedly, trying to exalt yourself in his eyes, which would never happen, "Otherwise? Otherwise you'll tie me up in bed?"

His eyes warmed for a split second before becoming rougher than usual, a low like purring, sincere laugh muffled by the balaclava dulled the stammered confidence. Simple:

"Yes."

And you're forced to take a step back.

"Any doubts?"

Another step.

"Choose."

And another.

Bitch, the really bastard will never admit he likes what's going on. At gunpoint on the brink of life and death - it didn't matter. His credo was ironclad.

Another round in favor of rowing Riley.