Void | 18+

04 | bombshell

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐲 𝐣𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐨

𝐃𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐀'𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐕

I must be fucking dreaming. That's the only explanation for the absolute madness I just heard.

I look at him before I throw my head back and laugh out loud. This must be a prank.

Except Rowan looks deadly serious. And suddenly I'm scared again, my laugh dying down, comically.

It wasn't even real to begin with. I hadn't really laughed in a long time.

"Marry you?" I question, back to reality. "Why the fuck would I marry you?"

"You know," he starts, leaning back on the table with a calm stature, annoyance creeping into his emotionless tone, "it's not very ladylike to swear."

I bring my hand up to slap him across the face for that comment, but his fingers wrap around my wrist with a quickness comparable to a cat, his grip hard and strong as he holds my wrist tight as a vice, his fingers wrapped all the way around my wrist.

I almost shiver.

He shoves my arm back down to my side, keeping his hand around it and getting into my personal space, a flare of anger passing through his blank eyes.

"Don't ever fucking raise your hand to me again," he says, his eyes gleaming.

The anger disappears from his eyes again, and he looks confused, as though he hadn't expected me to rile him up so much.

I decide to push his buttons some more.

"Well if I'm not a lady, why would you want to marry me?"

I really have nothing to offer him. I'm dirt poor and mentally beyond fucked in the head.

I also swore to myself I would never marry anyone and be pathetically tied to a man.

"I have my reasons. But you will be my wife," he says, rounding the table and sitting down, ignoring my presence, "Or I'll kill your mother," he finishes, nonchalantly. "Your choice."

"So that's it? Do you expect to just blackmail me into marrying you? Then what? We live happily ever after?" I question, my tone sharp and dripping with sarcasm.

His eyes shoot to mine with disdain, "Do not fucking speak to me that way."

"It's not very ladylike to swear, you know," I say right back, biting back a gasp when he slams his palms into the table, silencing me as he stands up.

God, I hate men. They always use their brute force and strength to intimidate women and I fucking hated it.

"You'll sign a contract, I'll marry you because I fucking want to, and when I'm finished with you, we'll get a divorce, or I'll just dispose of you, depending on my mood," he says as if his words were the law.

He presses a button on his desk and within five seconds, Carlo is standing at my left again.

"Get her out of my office, but don't take your eyes off of her," he speaks like I'm not there in front of him, the gun laying on the table, a silent threat.

I swallow back the hot feeling at the back of my throat, throwing a harsh "fuck you," in Rowan's direction before Carlos pushes me out of the room.

He has his stupid gun pressed into my back and I have the urge to snap his fucking neck.

He ushers me all the way back to the car and then all the way to my apartment (of course they know where I live), turning to look at me before he leaves me at my apartment door.

"Don't tell anyone about this," he says, "or he'll punish you."

I roll my eyes, my snark and humour coming back to cover up the anxiety, "am I gonna get spanked by your boss? Is that what he does to you? Is that why you're such a pussy?"

Carlos' face turns a shade of red close to purple and he spits,"I'll fucking hurt you," he tries to come closer to me but I quickly put my arm on the fire alarm near the door, silently threatening him that I would pull it if he came closer.

He hesitates, looking at me with pure hatred, before turning and walking back down the stairs to the lobby of my shitty building.

I unlock the door and get inside fast, sighing in relief to see Liv not back yet.

I walk to the fridge and gulp down some ice-cold water, having no appetite for any food when I think back to the conversation I just had.

I lock myself in my room then, sitting on my bed and calling the place with the only family member I have, waiting for it to ring.

"Hello, you have reached the North Carolina Addiction Rehab Facility. Natasha speaking, how may I help you?" A once familiar voice answers.

I clear my throat, trying to sound nonchalant, "Hi, um, I'm calling to check in on a patient there, Nora Alami?"

There was a short pause and then,

"Dalia?"

I sigh, going back to my regular tone, "Yeah."

"It's been so long since we heard from you! Yes, your mother is in her room - would you like to speak to her?"

My response came immediately,

"No! Just, uh, just wanted to check that she's okay."

Natasha sighs, "Yes. Your mom is okay. I think she misses you, you know. Deep down. It would be good for her to see you. Would you like me to schedule a visitation-"

I hang up in her face. I can't help it.

I had pushed down any thoughts about my failed addict of a mom years ago. And yet here I was, on the verge of fucking tears, remembering her because of him.

Rowan Falcone. Stupid son of a bitch.

I pull out my laptop out and type his name into the search bar, scrolling past numerous articles of him being "New York's Most Eligible Bachelor," news of his businesses soaring, and candid photos of him taken by press and reporters.

I run his name through Reddit and other small websites, finding threads about his suspected hand in the gambling and drug trade, and his name being entrenched in the Italian mafia. Great. Wonderful. Just what I needed.

This is his fault. I'm supposed to be satisfied with completing a year of law school, one step closer to my goal, but instead, here I'm calling a number I swore I'd never call again to check in on someone I swore I didn't care about.

Here and now, I swear I'll make Rowan's life fucking hell. I'll make him miserable, even if it kills me - that promise, I will never break.

♔ ♕ ♖ ♗ ♘ ♙♔ ♕ ♖ ♗ ♘ ♙♔ ♕ ♖ ♗ ♘ ♙
a/n thoughts about Dalia?