♕ Rose ♕
6 hours. That's the most I managed to sleep.
Even after Luca double-checked the locks on the window and balcony door, it took me another whole hour to fall asleep after that.
I'll take that though because it was a peaceful sleep. One of those where it feels as if I was floating in a fairy tale land.
I jump out of bed and the first thing I do, obviously, is run to the bathroom and throw up in the toilet. I hate morning sickness. I've had it nearly every single day of my pregnancy and I don't think it's going to stop any time soon. Lucky me.
I brush my teeth, do my morning routine and get ready for the day. I put on a simple outfit, black culottes with a white ribbed crop top. When I look in the mirror, I see my hair. The braid has gone a little messy from my sleep but does not look horrible.
Luca Armani braided my hair last night.
He's ruthlessly burnt, drowned, and killed people in the coldest blood, but placidly stroked, tied and braided my hair with the same hands.
I don't think he's ever been this tender in my life. Not even when we slept together.
I leave the braid in.
And when I open the door, I nearly trip over the large animal laying right outside the threshold. Ricky immediately gets up and sits on his hind legs, his big, black eyes staring at me, adorably.
"Good morning," I smile and bend down to pet him behind his ears. He leans into my touch and rubs his soft fur against my hand. "You've been playing bodyguard all night?" In response, he licks my hand and I laugh at the funny feeling of it.
"Let's go get some breakfast," I stand, and the padding of his paws are heard behind me as I walk down to the kitchen.
"Morning Sabrina," I sit on the barstool and Ricky plops down beside me on the floor. On the island, there is already a coffee pot, a carton of orange juice with some glasses, a bowl of fruit and pots of whatever breakfast is cooked for today.
"Good morning, Ma'am," she greets and clatters something onto a tray. Brando sits on one of the other stools, a plate of food in front of him, as he inspects the laptop with furrowed eyebrows.
"Morning Brando," I say, and he mumbles something back.
"Mr Armani told me to give this to you." Sabrina places the tray in front of me and I thank her. There's a box sitting next to the pill dispenser, and I fill a glass of orange juice – which helps with my nausea throughout the day. It does work because my morning sickness has only been happening in the mornings and not at random moments.
"Shall I make your usual?" She stands in front of me, head lowered, and hands clasped together. Her brown hair is in a tight bun and she's a tall girl with curves in the places I only got because of my pregnancy.
I smile at her politely and she looks up, returning it. I think she's glad I haven't mentioned anything about last night to her.
"What's wrong?" I ask Brando when I see the confusion written on his face.
"I'm looking at the cash flow of the hotel for this month, but something isn't right," he rubs his jaw and takes a sip of his protein shake.
"Let me have a look," I take a sip of the juice and he pushes the laptop over to me.
"The closing balance is wrong. It doesn't match up to what we have," he comments, and I analyse the spreadsheet to see if anything is in the wrong place.
"Your net profit is too high," I tell him and try to hide my laugh, "you accidentally added an extra 0."
"Shit, yeah," his eyes widen, and he takes it back, "thanks."
Taking a sip of the juice, I open the compartment of the dispenser for today to see that all the blue pills have been replaced with green ones.
How did he get the prescription so fast, it's like 9 am?
I scan the side effects listed on the box and there's a bubbling relief when I don't see insomnia or night terrors as one of them. When I swallow the pills back with a gulp of orange juice, I slip my phone out of my pocket.
Me: prozac, really?
Me: that's supposed to be less effective than zoloft
His response is quick.
Luca: It's the best option for you given your current circumstance
Me: well if this messes up, I'm blaming you
Luca: Points for effort?
That last message has me smiling no matter how much I withhold it.
"Smiling at her phone. She's down bad," Marco comments and I look up to find him smirking. I roll my eyes at him, and something moves in my peripheral causing his eyes to drift to it.
He shrieks and jumps behind Brando's chair, startling him and making him slam his hand on the keyboard messing up even more of the cash flow.
"Marco, you fucking idiot," he swivels around to glare at him.
"What the fuck is the devil spawn doing here?" Marco exclaims and waves his arms dramatically at an innocent Ricky, whose lying on the floor with his head on his arms and his tongue sticking out.
"Fuck, I didn't even realise he was here." Brando's eyes suddenly go wide, and he turns to me.
"Don't tell me you're scared of him as well," I groan, resting my palm on my forehead.
"You have not seen him tear someone to pieces," Brando says slowly. Fair point.
Sabrina places my breakfast in front of me, then places an empty plate and mug next to me. I don't miss the glances she's been sending to Marco who doesn't respond to her. He's too frightened of Ricky to do anything. But I know that he's only using her for a lay.
Marco goes to take the seat next to me, but Ricky jumps up onto it first.
"Fuck this," Marco jerks back and sits next to Brando, furthest from Ricky and me. I shake my head and put pieces of bacon in front of Ricky, who chews it up.
"Sabrina," Brando props up as if just remembering something, "did Maya go to school today?"
"Yes, sir. She was late and skipped her breakfast," she answers and Brando waves her away. She sends a glance to Marco, who – once again – doesn't pay any attention to her and then leaves. Maya always tends towards being late to school. She claims it's because she thinks homeroom is useless and that it shouldn't even be in her timetable.
"My car is finally fixed today," Marco announces and keeps his eyes trained on Ricky as he cautiously grabs a bagel.
"Finally, you can do more than one race tonight," Brando cracks his neck and rests a hand on the nape of it.
"Don't get me wrong. The R8 is good but I missed my Mustang," Marco whines.
"Next time, try not to piss Luca off then," I roll my eyes as if stating the obvious.
"But I can't help it. Pissing him off is funny. I breathe in your direction and steam starts coming out of his ears," Marco laughs.
"The consequences don't seem that amusing," I inform him, and he makes a face of approval.
"Ah, look what the dog dragged in," Marco teases as his eyes trail to something behind me, "Ricky, you still hungry?" He looks at Ricky with a smile and Ricky growls at him causing him to recoil and drop the smile.
"Shut it, Matthias." My head turns at the sound of Oakley's voice, and I can't help the grin that forms. I eye the unbuttoned mustard flannel shirt he's wearing. I'm going to take that later; it matches my outfit.
He walks over and hugs me. Ricky straightens, on guard, and I pat his head, reassuring him that Oakley is okay. Pointing to the floor, he jumps down and stalks over to sit next to the entrance of the kitchen.
"How come you're here?" I ask. Oakley rarely ever stops by the house though his apartment is not that far. He tries to take the time to visit but he's usually too busy doing jobs.
"He's jealous that I get to spend so much time with you," Marco grins and Oakley holds up his middle finger at him.
"I had the day off," he answers, taking a seat along with an apple from the fruit basket.
"Lucas gave you the day off?!"
"You got a day off?!"
Their stunned exclamations ricochet around the room. I'm not surprised that this is a shock to them. Luca seems like the workaholic type and has the mentality of 'every second wasted, wastes my f-ing money too'.
"I'm here with this dumb calculator working out this stupid cash flow while you have a day off," Brando runs a hand through his messy hair.
"Are you working out each calculation yourself?" I query.
"Yes."
I glance at Oakley then Marco and we all erupt into howls of laughter. Tears stream out of my eyes and my lungs feel like they're on fire. I can practically feel Brando fuming at all of us and his face heats red.
"Brando, Excel does it all for you." I hiccup and wipe away the tears.
Brando doesn't say anything, just glares at the screen.
"Here, look." Oakley grabs the laptop and shows him how it's done.
"Well, I'm not the tech genius." He snaps, clearly flustered from his dense moment.
"You don't need to be a tech genius to figure that out. Even I knew that, and I dropped out of high school," Marco edges him on further and bursts out into another laugh.
"What do you want to do today?" Oakley asks.
My gaze drifts around the kitchen and catches the empty whiskey bottle next to the liquor cabinet. There are also three other empty bottles next to it, including a Scotch one.
"Marco," he hums, "did you come back here at all last night?"
"No."
"You haven't been in here since?" I continue, my suspicion growing.
"Nope. I woke up fifteen minutes ago."
It wasn't Marco. Oakley just got here. Brando doesn't drink, he just snorts up powders. Maya would pass out from one glass of whiskey let alone four bottles of heavy liquor. And the house staff are forbidden to touch any of it – they're all scared of Luca so they wouldn't dare.
That means he's the only person who could've drunk them all.
"Let's do crazy golf, today," Oakley suggests and he rubs my arm. He senses the deflation in my mood like he always does.
"I'm coming too." Marco jumps in.
"No, you're not." Oakley glares at him.
I don't even think Luca slept at all last night.
I tap Oakley and eye his shirt. He rolls his eyes and takes it off, leaving him in a white t-shirt, and I put it on, taking my braid out.
The shirt is large for me and is enough to cover my 18-week bump. It's starting to show now, and it's made me look a bit chubbier, which I'm grateful for.
"I'll be right back," I tell them and leave the kitchen. Ricky's paws pad behind me and he hangs his head low. It's like he's become my shadow. It's quite cute.
When I reach the door, I make a silent prayer for him to be in here and lightly knock on it. He calls for me to enter and I turn to Ricky, patting his head, "stay." He pants and lays down next to the door, while I open it.
Luca is hunched over in the large black armchair as he reads something on top of a stack of papers while flicking a pen through his fingers. His desk is slightly messy but the thing most prominent is the tumbler. He's in the same shirt that he wore yesterday, well the early morning.
"I'm going out with Oakley then I'm gonna go see my brother," I tell him, and he hums, not looking up.
I shut the door behind me, and he detaches his eyes from the sheet to look up a bit. He doesn't meet my eyes and he only glanced up for less than a second.
I put one foot in front of the other and clasp my hands behind my back, slowly and cautiously taking the steps towards him. If he's drunk, I don't want to be at the bad end of the stick. But, as I said before, I want to help him.
He's already helped me. It'll be returning the favour.
Luca notices and rolls his tongue around the corner of his mouth. He pushes the stack of papers aside and pats the empty space twice before he sits back, allowing me room to squeeze in and jump up on the desk, my legs brushing against him in the process.
He leans forward, placing his elbows on the armrests and his hands on the nape of his neck as he stares at the floor. I take a whiff and smell his cologne mixed with cigarettes and whiskey.
"You stayed up all night." I declare and when he doesn't look up, I put my hand under his chin and lightly push his head up so his eyes meet mine.
"Drinking," I breathe out and hide the way I gasped. An unpleasant pit forms in my gut at the sight of him. His hair is dishevelled, his eyes a bloodshot red, he's in the same clothes from last night and he reeks of alcohol.
He looks...gorgeously exhausted.
He's different. Like the secret side of a mirror is reflecting on me.
The curtain has fallen and there is a prideful man so undone, curled into a ball in the centre of the collapsing stage.
"I saw the empty bottles in the kitchen, Luca. Four of them. And you drunk them all," I end up cupping his stubbly jaw.
"You're going to kill yourself if you carry on like this," I whisper, solemnly, and he responds by resting his forehead on mine, shutting his eyes. I grip the edge of the desk, so I don't burst into tears.
Even saying those words causes a suffocating tightness in my chest.
My thighs warm when he unconsciously rests his large hands there and I feel every muscle of his sigh.
He finds solace in me?
I've realised that under every armour, no matter if it's made of diamond or talc, there's a helpless little boy buried alive and scrambling and screaming to be set free.
And Luca Armani is drowning.
I revel in the time he's pressed against me. My heart turns all fuzzy and his warmth is going to become addictive to me. I know touch is not his language but he's being pretty touchy with me.
I pull away but leave my fingers resting under his chin. The weight is very little, but I know it's the only thing holding him up at this moment.
"Take a shower. Take a nap. You look f-ing exhausted," I stare into his weary eyes and rehash his words from last night to him.
"You weren't supposed to see me like this," his voice is hoarse, and it has my body reacting to it. That's the first words he's said to me since I got here.
"I'll see you at your worst and I'll see you at your best. None of them will scare me away, Luca," my lips rise in a sad smile.
His eyes watch me. I can tell he's evaluating whether I mean it or not. And I mean every single word. I made a promise to help him, and I intend to see through with it. Every step of the way. Until the last petal falls.
He flickers his eyes to my mouth. I'm gravitating towards him, my head lowering to his. Luca's grip on my thighs tightens as does my hand on his jaw. Our mouths are a hairline apart.
There's a knock and the person doesn't wait because the door squeaks open. I jolt back, instantly, retracting my hand.
"Boss-oh shit, sorry." Brando.
Luca curses under his breath and sits back, turning his face to the right and I immediately jump down, lowering my head to the ground. My face heats and I can't even look at Brando as I pass him to leave.
It dawns on me that I was just about to kiss Luca, and it feels like I've been slapped in the face. I've kissed him before, many times, but they were completely out of lust and attraction. Not feelings.
This is bad.
I can't kiss him. I can't feel this for him. And, most importantly, I can't fall for him.
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Uh oh.
Just a reminder, I'm not going to be updating for the next month because I'm on holiday. That's why I uploaded 4 chapters in bulk. I'm really sorry about this :(
Hope you enjoyed this chapter, Sophia <3