Sorry about my sporadic updates. I've just moved into my college dorm and am now about to start school *panicked shrieking in the distance* and I'm also working on another book that I'm sort of in love with at the moment. My chapters in this book are around 1,000 words, this new book I'm writing is around 5,700 per chapter, which is a big change of pace for me.
I honestly kinda want to do a chapter that long just to show you guys what I'm doing. Let me know if that's something you'd be interested in.
Anywho, sorry again.
Gemma's POV:
Was it wrong for me to imagine smothering my brother with a pillow? I hoped not because I'd been doing it quite often. I loved Damian, I did, but I was going to murder him. Possibly with a pillow, possibly with whatever blunt object I got my hands on first.
"Would you stop?" My patience had worn thin with my brother throwing paper balls at the side of my face as I tried to focus on the book in front of me.
"Nope." He smirked, throwing another one. I'd turned my head just enough for the thing to nail me in the eyes.
I yelped, rubbing at the stinging sensation that brought about tears. Damian was instantly jumping over the couch he was hiding behind, cradling me in his arms as he apologized time and time again.
I hit him repeatedly with my book. He should've been thankful it was paperback but he was too busy complaining about me hitting him in general.
"Would you rather me get my frustrations out now or do you want me to tell Tobias?" I asked with a sweet smile. Damian's eyes widened, face going ashen when he realized I was serious in telling our eldest brother about him hitting me in the eye. Whether or not it was an accident wouldn't matter, as I was the baby and Damian the aggressor.
The joys of being the youngest.
"Fine, you win." Damian grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. I resumed my hitting him, but it was a lot less fun when he wasn't complaining. I knew it didn't hurt him, but it was funny that he was bothered by it in general.
We were both sitting in the kitchen, Damian making something for dinner as Zion had impulsively given the staff the night off. Damian had insisted someone keep him company but Tobias had a sudden business call and Zion remembered that he needed to fetch his dry cleaning from the cleaners. I wasn't sure where Sinclair was, but hopefully he had a better excuse for missing this than the other two.
No wonder I figured out their 'hidden' jobs. They were terrible at secrets.
Anywho, I got dragged from my comfy spot in the library to the kitchen. I was happy so long as I got to bring my book. Damian had gotten bored and started throwing torn up bits of paper towels at my head when something was cooking and he had a five minute break.
He'd turned back to the stove, mixing whatever was in the frying pan.
"What did you do with the ten million you stole from the cartel?" Damian asked, breaking the silence. I glanced up from my chapter with a sigh, keeping in mind my page number before shutting the book.
It took maybe fifteen seconds for my brain to freak out, making me think I'd lost the page or remembered the wrong number, so I opened the book once more and confirmed my spot. I snatched a halfway torn up paper towel and used it as a bookmark, happily shutting the book and moving it to the side.
"Well, seven million went to different charities in increments of $9,900 so it didn't get flagged by the I.R.S. The other three million went into several bank accounts under false names in Sweden." I explained, smiling at the pride shining in Damian's eyes.
Should he be proud of that? I feel like he should be slightly concerned but there was the tiny fact that he was a hit man so he didn't really have any room to judge.
Yeah, pride is good.
"Nice." He fist bumped me, turning back to the frying pan once I gave him a fist bump.
I went back to my book, nearly shrieking when the two main characters finally (and I do mean finally) kissed. It had taken forever.
The door behind me opened, Sinclair sighing heavily as he entered the room. He slumped into the seat behind me, signing to Damian to get him something strong in ASL. Didn't they know I could sign as well?
"So, Gemma, you ready for tomorrow?" Sinclair asked, drawing my attention away from what Damian was doing and towards him. I shrugged, closing my book again. I kicked my feet back and forth under my chair, looking down at my bright purple socks.
I wasn't sure when my closets had been stocked with clothes, but it'd been too long for me to ask and I didn't really care, considering all the clothes fit and were super comfortable.
"Sure. I'm doing the easy part. All I have to do is look cute." I said. Sinclair took the drink from Damian, mouthing apple juice at me before he threw the whole thing back. He slammed the crystal glass down on the marble countertop so hard I thought I'd heard the crystal crack.
"You already excel at that so you don't have to do much." Sinclair pinched my chin, getting out of his seat. He kissed the top of my head as he passed, heading towards the kitchen door. I looked at Damian as soon as I thought Sinclair was out of hearing distance, narrowing my gaze at my youngest brother.
"Is he okay?" I asked. Damian didn't look away from the stove but his shoulders stiffened.
"Of course. Why wouldn't he be?"
Damian was an abysmal liar. I mean, seriously, for a guy who's life depends on him being a good liar, he was terrible at it.
"Because he just threw back a glass of scotch so fast I think I heard his neck snap." I arched an eyebrow at my brother's back. I knew he could feel my gaze because he froze momentarily before continuing flipping the taco meat in the frying pan.
"Noticed that, huh?" He asked with a chuckle I didn't believe.
"Have we not established I'm more observant than I look?" I asked sarcastically. Damian sighed, running a hand through his hair before he groaned and moved to wash his hands again. As he rubbed his hands dry on a towel that hung off the oven, he turned to look at me.
"Fine, fine. You win." He grumbled, pulling the pan off the hot eye and putting it on one that hadn't been in use. I smiled widely.
"You should be used to that by now." I shrugged, looking at my nails. I was going to need a manicure. I glanced down at my uncovered feet with a shudder.
Both. I desperately needed both.
"Trust me, I am. Doesn't mean I have to like it," Damian leaned his back against the counter so he could look at me, his arms folded across his chest. "Sinclair is running security for our family tomorrow. It's a lot more stressful now." Damian said with a pointed look at me.
I wasn't a fool by any means so I could easily tell why he was looking at me like that.
"I get it. It used to be just the four of you, each of you with the ability to shoot a gun or, ya know, break someone's neck with your bare hands. I'm playing helpless sister over here." I grumbled, my smile falling as I slumped in my seat. Damian pursed his lips, head tilted to one side.
"How do you know about that?" He asked, shoulders tensing.
"Know about what?" I asked. He caught me off guard with the sudden question. I would've had the perfect sarcastic comeback if my mouth had let my brain catch up.
"Snapping someone's neck. Did someone tell you something?" Damian uncrossed his arms and walked around the kitchen island, standing directly in front of me. I cocked my head at him before my brain finally put two and two together.
"I was being sarcastic. Though the idea of one of you four snapping someone's neck with your bare hands doesn't shock me." I told him with a small grin. The tension left his body in an instant and my happy Dami was back. I liked him better this way anyway.
"Sorry 'bout that, sweetheart. Now, about this damsel in distress role you think you'll be playing... Want to change it up a little?" He asked with a smirk that sent a chill down my spine.
I smiled so widely I thought my face might break in two pieces. I nodded so hard I think I heard my neck snap.
"Lead the way!" I ordered, hopping down from my seat. Damian laughed at my eagerness.
"As the queen commands." He bowed at the waist, dipping low before straightening suddenly, snatching me up by the waist as he did. He carried me a couple of feet like that before shifting my weight, turning it into something more princess-like.
My lazy side wouldn't let me complain.
Oh well. On to a new adventure!
Hopefully one that ends before the next chapter. Wink wink, hint hint, nudge nudge.
C'mon readers, do I need to give you anymore hints? You're supposed to tell your author what you want to see in the next chapter of my life?
Option One) Skip straight to the mafia ball and be surprised with my new skill set
Option Two) Learn my skills with me