denied truths

13# Panic

LUDOVICA

I HAVEN'T CRIED IN A LONG TIME.
but here I am, sobbing.
I can't breath, I can't get my lungs to expand
Please please please.
My whole body is violently shaking as I try to keep my cries in but I am a crying mess.

I am in a unknown house.
A UNKNOWN FUCKING HOUSE.

is he back?
Did he find me?
Did he get me?
Is this his house?
Is he gonna kill me?
IS HE FUCKING BACK IN NEW YORK-

The door flies open.

"jesus ludovica I thought you were getting killed, jessu fucking christ!"

It's Dominic.

I quickly wipe my tears away and sit straighter.
Now the memories roll in my mind. I fell asleep in the car.

He huffs as he fastly marches over to me.
He preses his fists down on the bed and faces my crying face, I feel himulliated by my own self.

"Why are you crying.". He says firmly.

"i-i-"

"is the ludovica volkov really stuttering, I should record this." he says dryly.

"what the fuck I thought... I didn't know where I was."

"your in my house." his voice is sharp and his Russian accent is slipping in.

"i figured that out."

I don't remember nothing from lastnight, how did I not wake up, how did he bring me here, the motherfucker picked me up, what if we did more than just.

"did we...?"

He shifts up and walks over to his night stand and grabs his watch.

"did what" he said hoarsely, not facing me.

"you know."

His faint chuckle fills the room as the corners of his mouth twitches.

"No. If we did you would have remembered."

I scoff in deep annoyance as I roll my eyes

"oh realllly"

"yes really."

I yawn and lay back in the bed, not bothered if he sees me or not.

"so? Are you keeping me hostage or something?"

"yes." he turns around to face me, his face is blank, his eyes are so damn bright today, and his ash black hair. I would have been brutally lying if I said that he isn't incredibly handsome.

I snap back.

Hes holding me hostage

"what?"

"its Sunday. And I'm not letting you leave, look little beast, I don't know you."

"okay your right... But what do you want to know about? " I ask, confused.

"your darkest past, your deepest secrets, everything."

"you want to know me that deep?"

He curtly nods.

Well this is unexpected, and fucking hard.

"i don't trust you"  I say honestly, I have plenty of trust issues.

"i understand, but I trust you, so I'll tell you first."

My eyebrows knit together.

I can't believe he's actually willing to let me know his secrets, and past.

"you will?"

"yes. Let's go downstairs for breakfast and we talk there."

This is a struck of lighting too

"you cooked?"
"no. I have a private chef, but the house is empty now I made them leave"

I can get a private chef if I want, but I'm jealous.