HEY CUTIES
very long chapter today
ALSO DONT DO DRUGS YALL (supposed to be the tw cuz ion want this book banned again)
Adriana's POV
I was supposedly great at noticing the small things.
The modern paintings of black and white lodged up against the hall outside my room. Not one ounce of meaning in them, unless you counted the dust around their borders.
His locked bedroom door.
How fucking cold it was in this house.
Sometimes I opted to wear a robe, and even that wasn't enough to disregard the one thing I hadn't noticed- there were no heaters. Anywhere.
Did the man freeze to death when New York had it's annual share of snow? It was like my superpower for reading people seemed to dissipate into thin air the moment his face came into view. The only thing I felt when he was in proximity -which wasn't often- was a clenched sort of patience, entitlement, and a tingly feeling in my lower stomach.
I found myself thinking about that last one the most.
I'd rather his presence be ghosted rather than his gaze. Because his eyes.. his eyes made me feel things I didn't wanna admit. They casted images in my head that were filthy, dirty, and a disgrace to humanity.
It was wrong. So wrong. Sometimes at night I'd even catch myself slip and say, well, fuck it, because he's gonna be my husband in two weeks. But people in the Cosa Nostra get married every week, and they don't seem attracted to each other after a millennia.
God, was I really this easy?
He was the goddamn enemy, and here I was, wishing he'd sneak into my room at night and do unspeakable things to me.
Fuck.
I needed to get out of this house before I died of touch deprivation.
I dialed Layla, praying she hadn't lugged Hugo to the mall again.
I started pacing the room the moment she picked up.
"Alleviate. Tonight. Please?"
She scoffed. "Damn. I owe your sister fifty."
I stared at the wall. "You guys bet on me?"
"No, we bet on the fact that you would fucking lose it within a week."
I sighed and sat on the edge of my bed. "I don't know what it is. He's not even doing anything- he hasn't done anything except for fucking ignore me."
The line went silent. "Mio Dio, Adriana. Just because you were homeschooled doesn't mean you should allow yourself to act this demented."
"What?"
"How do I even- okay. Let's make this easy, yeah?"
"Okay. Easy. Easy is nice." I sat back down on the edge of my bed.
"He wants to fuck you."
My amusement faded away within the next second.
I pretended she was standing in front of me. "He wants to fuck me?"
"Real bad. I'm talking all-night, no strings attached bad. Like, the borderline predatory kind. The kind that'll leave you paralyzed from the bottom half."
I suddenly wondered if his personality was weaved through sex. Was he rough, like his voice? Demanding like his aura? It stunned me that I could picture it so perfectly. His large hands coasting my skin, and then flipping me over on the mattress-
Stop.
"I thought you took the hint yesterday afternoon. He was looking at you like he wanted to devour you whole. Even my legs went jelly."
"I mean, yeah.. but he does that to irritate me. That's practically why he chose to marry me rather than those porcelain-doll copies from Russia."
Or was I saying that to convince myself rather than her?
"Sometimes that's exactly what men want. For your anger to reach a boiling point until confrontation's the last resort. And then, face to face, you realize it's better to get the anger out of your system another way. A better way."
I could almost feel her wink through the slow, taunting words.
I felt itchy everywhere. Not in a good way, but the heat in my body spoke otherwise. Did I want it?
Yes.
My brows furrowed as I contemplated. It would be my first time since.. a while. And then I thought. Real hard. I didn't know him well enough to trust him. I couldn't. Not when Petrov was his right-hand man. And although I had faith he was a man well off from the influence of others, I couldn't rely on a half-truth to stay confident that nothing bad would happen.
And judging by my past, morality was a real fucking traitor.
I couldn't.
"I can't." It was a mutter under my breath.
"And that's fine, too. If anything, stay celibate for however fucking long you want. I'll be there in thirty, va bene?"
My best friend knew me well enough to see me nod my head.
My phone buzzed with her text exactly thirty minutes later, and I quickly pat some setting powder on the side of my neck. The divot of the scar was still there, but the ugly colored skin wasn't.
My eyes lodged onto the corner of the dresser, where amidst everything else, my engagement ring lay. I stared at it for a good three minutes. Men didn't stop because of a ring. Pre-Petrov, I always made sure to investigate before inviting myself to a man or woman. Since I never involved myself with people from the Cosa Nostra, almost all those marriages were faithful- and messing up relationships, among all, was a line I didn't cross. Ever. Also, it would be a bloody mess.
The diamond shone under the light. It could, however, give me some protection. The gem was big, and that would be enough to shoo any lee-ways or creeps off.
I took the few steps there, picked it up, and slipped it onto my ring finger, vowing I wouldn't look at it all night. And if I did end up.. fornicating, I could just drop it into my purse and seal it tight.
I checked to make sure my gun-
Fuck.
Where was my gun?
I scrambled to open drawers and my closet- but I already knew it wasn't here. I hadn't even packed it.
Shit.
I never left the house alone without my gun.
The one thing that gave me the control I needed without depending on anybody. My fists weren't enough to beat a man, but a bullet to the heart was.
I've always found them fascinating. Such versatile things, guns, that come in sizes so small you would never expect a woman to have one hidden under her dress in the middle of a masquerade ball. Mysgonistic as fuck, but still, I had that confirmation in the back of an alley some months ago.
An alley where I lay dirty, used, and broken. It was the one moment I needed something like a gun. Fast, barely pricked with guilt, and something that I could've used to end the pain.
A strangled bundle of nerves filled my stomach. My heartbeat raced. Not now. Please, not now.
Relax.
Relax.
Fuck, was it getting hot? It's supposed to be cold in this goddamn house.
Nikolas probably has a gun.
Was he in his room?
Go get one from his room.
I creaked open my door and peered down the hall. His light was off, and the door was peeked open a crack.
For once.
My chest heaved, and I trekked down the hall, wincing everytime my heels made a click-clack that even God could hear heavens above.
I pushed the door open with a palm and stepped in, my shoulders relaxing as no presence shook me alert again.
Okay. A gun. Find a gun.
But I needed a moment to take it all in, first. His bed was unmade, and I quickly brushed away the wrong correlation with his clean personality because, first off, he probably was a recluse and never let anyone come in here. Like me. I wasn't supposed to be, but it was a thrill knowing I was breaking his rules. Second, the place was deserted. I mean, nothing on his dresser, a simple walk-in closet with identical dress-shirts, suit jackets, and ties, and a bathroom. That was it. Where was the personality? The liveliness?
Expectations, Adriana. Keep them on the low.
I took a knee and opened the black drawer next to his bed, seeing nothing but what looked like a spare key, some reciepts, and- what's that? I craned my neck down in the dark and took the flimsy object out.
It was a rose.
A dried rose, with the stem still there but a few missing petals.
A weird something made my chest squeeze as I remembered I wasn't the only woman in his life. He left every night to do God knows what? As if. He owned a club. Probably had sex with someone new every night. Or maybe he hate-fucked Anastasia because, let's face it, she was the perfect submissive and would do whatever the hell he wanted.
Fuck that.
I'll find someone of my own tonight.
I placed the rose back in the drawer, shut it gently, and went around the unmade bed to the other set of drawers. As soon as I opened it, the black metal of a pistol greeted me.
Thank God.
I pulled it out, weighing the cold weapon in my hands. An energy I didn't have a second ago filled my veins and my heartbeat slowed suddenly.
I nearly ran back down the hall to my room to grab my purse and quickly slipped the gun into the red band around my thigh, like always.
I scrolled to Layla's contact and started my way out, until I slammed into a big, broad chest.
My eyes went wide and they traveled up the black suit to meet Nikolas's.
"Don't smoke, huh?"
He glanced at the cleavage of my dress where I'd tucked in the box of Marlboro's, yet again. I would've called him a perv if it weren't for my body approving the feel of his eyes.
I tipped my chin up regardless of the sudden nerves running through me. "I'm not tarnishing my image in front of my family over a pack of lung-killers."
His eyes roamed my room, narrowing in disapproval as he noticed all the small knick-knacks and disorganized items clattering everything.
I was about to come up with an excuse, but stopped because he was looking somewhere else now. My neck. I quickly brought forward a piece of hair to cover it, and ignored his piercing gaze.
Was it still noticeable?
His eyes narrowed, but he didn't comment on it.
"I didn't think I'd have to deal with anymore trouble tonight." Nikolas's voice was rough and gravelly, something like an ice-cold threat running through it.
"I'd hardly call having fun trouble." I rolled my eyes and suddenly wondered if he'd seen me slip the gun into my purse.
His eyes dropped down down my body and all the way up in one, slow languid movement. I felt the heat warm me from the inside out.
Fuck. Don't look at me like that.
With my heels on, my head was up to his neck, but he was still far too intimidating. I swallowed down the anxiety and looked at him with indifference. "I'm going with Layla."
"Do you not recall what I told you yesterday?"
Oh, I remember.
"I don't find it necessary to give anyone else the responsibility of escorting you places."
I scoffed. "It's not a responsibility to my best friend. We're both going to the same place."
He searched my face for a second, then glanced at my dress, his eyes narrowing. "You planning on seducing someone?"
I crossed my arms. "And that would matter why, exactly?"
"Because if another man touches you, I'll have to kill them." I waited for the emotion. The darkness to surpass his eyes and bleed through his voice. But nope. Indifference was all I saw.
That's when I realized this man wasn't like the rest. He wouldn't feel an ounce of guilt for anyone on their deathbed, their neck slit. Including me. If I explained myself- told him what Petrov did to me, he'd laugh. Kick me to the curb because in his eyes, I'd be a thrown out, used woman that's been touched in a way that makes her a so-called 'impurity'. That's what Russians believed, didn't they?
Those innocent, soft features, pale skin, and practical wings lodged into their smooth, silky backs. That's what women were to these men. That's what my sister was to the men in the Cosa Nostra, and why Papa was letting her go to college far away. He never mentioned it, but I could tell. He wanted to keep her away from those blood-sucking perverts that only wanted her beauty for themselves.
I didn't care that I wasn't a virgin. I'd played around with both men and women- and didn't believe husbands had enough importance to wait around for.
A sense of unease slipped up my spine as I stared into the void that was his eyes.
Would he care? I didn't feel the need to tell him.
"Is this how you interrogate all your women?" I tried for nonchalance, but sounded breathless if anything.
I caught him shrug. "Don't need to."
The gun suddenly felt like it was weighing me down. Cold, hard metal, giving away some of my confidence. "Why? You think they all pledge God for innocence? That they're too good enough to kill someone?"
"Not all of them." He looked down at me with a look that had me panicking for a second. Like he knew all the sins I'd committed, and was flipping through every goddamn page.
My phone buzzed, and I looked down at another text from Layla. "Sorry to interrupt this one-on-one, but gotta go."
His hands were in his pockets, and he was looking down at me like he I was part of a show put on the carnival that happened in Central Park every year.
"You're coming back in two hours."
"What?" My jaw nearly dropped. Two fucking hours? What was this, a game show? It took nearly twenty minutes to get into the main city at all.
"Either you do, or you don't go at all."
I reared back. "You are being incredibly-"
"Okay, don't. I'll bring you back myself."
Silence. Indifference shadowed his face, like always.
But also, a certain thrill. He was setting me up for a challenge. Seeing if I'd take it and win. Me, plus a challenge? Fuck if I wouldn't take it and show him exactly what I was capable of. The power I had.
With a clenched jaw and mindscape of "What the fuck do you think you're doing?", I barely muttered out, "Fine."
I brushed past him, but he grabbed my wrist and stopped me. My hand singed where he held me, and it suddenly felt like all of his body heat was swarming around me. I was drowning in him.
I felt the tightness in his grip. The constraint. And then the same fleeting darkness in his eyes that only emerged once everytime he was too close. His eyes flickered down to my exposed chest -the black Van Cleef glimmering- and a slightest hint of a sneer on his lips. I pressed my lips together to keep from letting out a shaky breath.
"Put on a goddamn jacket before you leave."
And then he was gone.
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I was still in some sort of a daze by the time I got to the car.
"What type of revenge fanatic did you dress up as?"
I slammed the car door shut and slumped into the seat. A few seconds ticked, and I turned to look at Layla.
"You mean my alter ego?" I looked out the window as she rolled through the two iron gates and out onto the driveway. "Hm. Trix doesn't sound too bad, does it? Bold, bright, and dare I say- sexy."
She gave me a concerned side-glance. "Let's not lie to ourselves. You think a man moaning 'Trix' is sexy?"
I shrugged. "Men moaning in general is sexy."
She muffled a giggle.
"What?"
Her clamped lips told me she'd dreamt up another one of those crazy Layla scenarios. "My impatience has it's virtues, Layla."
"No, it's just.." A smirk coated her pink-painted lips. "I thought of Brandon when you said that."
I fell back into my seat and let out a groan. The bartender had a little crush on me for a while, ever since I'd grown into my full form and started to regularly come to Alleviate -the club we were going to- more often. I'd say I didn't feel bad for shooting him little winks and chuckles, because he was still twenty- nearly three years younger than me. I didn't feel like leading the poor guy on.
"He's sweet. I guess."
"But you don't want sweet, do you?" There she was. The wisdom she always carried, no matter the place or time. We could be drunk on the floor and she'd muster up some strength to talk about the positive benefits of letting loose a little.
"No, I do. I just don't want.. adorable?"
"You want masculine."
She spit out the words like we were playing jeopardy. Ding! 500 points, because she was right.
"Protective yet rough."
A certain face came to mind.
"Intense but jagged on the edges a little."
Nikolas.
I grimaced out the window, trying to focus on all the city lights now emerging. "Please stop."
"Has a big dick but won't-"
"Layla."
"Sorry. Right or left?"
I whipped around to check her blind spot. She was fairly capable, but after some months ago.. it was only better to make sure.
"Right."
She switched lanes and we rolled to a stop at the intersection. That meant time to think.
He was intense. So much at times that I felt like simply looking at him would make me rip my hair out. Unintentionally. Now touching him.. that was another fucking story. If I all but melted when he gripped my wrist.. I shivered. What if he'd slipped his hand up my arms and wrapped it around my neck instead?
Jesus Christ, Adriana.
But in some twisted, masochistic way, I wanted him to do that. To choke me. Throw away my control and take it for himself. I let my nails feather over my pulse and tried to imagine it. It was fuzzy, a bit wrung out.. but it was there. And if I could picture it.. was that not enough proof for destiny to make it happen?
I'd been so caught up in my thoughts that I didn't even notice Layla rolling across the familiar speed bump and into the club's parking lot. The bright pink Alleviate casted a warm glow over car windows, lighting up people dressed in skimpy sequins and bejeweled pieces of art.
My favorite place.
Loud, chaotic, and misaligned. Very much like the inside of my head- that's why I preferred it rather than Aurora's library she spent so much time in. I think I'd go fucking insane trying to train my eyes on a page, no less sit there in silence while doing so.
"Wait. Do you have it?" I stopped Layla before we slipped out of her Mercedes.
She nodded, her expression turning stern. "I do. But you promised me you'd do one, and I need to know if you'll listen this time."
"I will, I will. Promise. Did Hugo notice?" My heart skipped a beat as she took out the tiny baggie from her sequined purse.
She shrugged. "I doubt he'd notice a half ounce of pot missing from his stash. Besides, if he takes one more hit, he's as good as dead."
I dipped my pinky into the powder, held it up to my nose, and sniffed it in. Like always, it made my eyes water, but a few seconds was all it took for me to readjust. It also only took a few seconds for my brain to start going fuzzy.
She quickly put the bag back in her purse, but I stopped her. "What about you?"
She scanned the parking lot with wary eyes. "I'm going to deck out for a bit. Just until you come to your senses." Which would be in about an hour, far before Nikolas's time limit ended. I had time.
"Okay, honeybun." I grabbed her wrist. "Shall we?"
She chuckled. "I guess we should."
It was a mess trying to get me in, because Buddy the Bouncer was being rather suspicious when he never usually was. It was either because I was half dragging across the concrete, or because I kept mumbling some mumbo jumbo about my husband-to-be.
"I knew this was a fucking bad idea."
I gave Layla a dirty stare. "Hey. I'm right here. Your best friend. Your maid of honor."
"I'm not getting married, idiota, you are."
"Right.." She dragged me into the waves of a black room, lit up with pink, blue and white neon lights. It was like a firework show. The bass under my heels, the faces smudged in shadows, and an oh-so thrilling feeling gliding down my back. And then, the bar.
She dropped me down on a stool, huffing and puffing.
"Hey, Brandon. Whip up one of your classics for me, will you?"
His blonde hair flickered under the wooden ledge of the bar. "Hey, Brandon." I don't know why, but a finger slipped into my hair and I started twirling. Around and around.. around and around. The wheels on the bus go 'round and 'round, 'round and 'round, 'round and 'round..
His face came into view then, half confused and half doused in a type of excitement that only matched golden retrievers- oh my goodness.
"Oh my god. That's what you remind me of." I slapped the counter. "A golden retriever!" I bit my lip to keep from bursting out laughing.
God, I needed a drink.
"Fetch me a dilly-dally of vodka, Branny. That's Nikolas's favorite." I stretched my arms out. Was it snuggly in here? If I lay on this stool, I think I'd fall asleep.
"Nikolas? Who's that?"
And then, I don't know if it was the fuzziness in my head or if that was affecting my sight, but I swear I saw his smile drop the moment it landed on my hand. The ring.
I slipped my hand off the counter. "Oh, it's nobody important. He's just, well, pretty mean. A little selfish. Annoying. Hot. Has a nice bod. Fucking rude." I shrugged. "I hate him."
He looked at the spot where my hand lay a second ago. "You're getting married, huh?"
I scoffed. "Barely. It's more of a business arrangement, if anything."
My body itched to follow the couple who was headed towards the dance floor. I gave Brandon a sweet, sweet, smile. "Will you dance with me?"
I waited. Was time frozen? The guy wouldn't move. "Hello...? Brandon?" I was getting frustrated.
Did it take me ten tries to simply get what I wanted?
An unmarked past.
A perfect husband.
Freedom.
His cheeks were red. Layla let out a chuckle. "Adriana-"
"It's Trix." I cut her off with a hand. "I'm Trix. Nice to meet you." I lay out the hand -not the one with the ring- for Brandon to shake. He was still frozen. But he was still red- was that normal? A sign of suffocation, I think, no?
And then he looked at me- properly looked at me, bare skin and all. "Uh- I'm taking five. You girls go have fun, yeah?"
I slumped into my stool. "You're leaving so soon?"
He threw a bar towel behind his shoulder and pushed a hand through the tuft of blonde hair. His green eyes seemed to glow in the darkness as they ran down my face. He grinned. "You're high, Trix."
I was too busy staring at his dimples.
His smile was so infectious I felt a heavenly hymn float up from my ears. Or maybe it was the pot. I don't know. "Aw. You remembered."
"I remember a lot of things." His eyes lingered on my hair. "You dyed it darker, didn't you?"
My lips parted in a gasp. "Shh. You're not supposed to know that. My hair is 'naturally black.'" I put half-assed quotations around the word, but my nails ended up making it look like dinosaur claws.
A gummy smile slipped onto my face and stayed there for a while, as I slumped around and searched for.. what was it? What was I looking for?
Ugh, whatever.
"So, uh- I had to ask. Who is he?"
I gave him a blank look. "Who is who?"
"You're fiancé, dipshit." I scowled at Layla's tone.
"Okay, mean. Anyways, his names Nikolas." I found myself leaning my chin against a hand. "He's not that tall.. pretty.. finicky.."
"I'm asking about this Nikolas guy, Trix. Not you."
I reeled back with a hand over my heart. "Aw. You think I'm pretty?"
He grabbed the towel and started wiping the counters, not meeting my eye. "Nah. I think you're prettier than pretty."
I leaned close, enough to make him stop what he was doing and look me directly in the eye. "I think you're handsomer than handsome." My hair was falling into my face.
"Adriana? What the fuck are you doing here?"
Oh shit.
With the maximum speed of a sloth, I turned my neck half-way.
Enzo stood there, his narrowed eyes traveling between me and Brandon, who stood frozen in place. Again.
He had to get that checked out.
A tense air slipped through my weary cracks, and I cleared my throat. "Conversing with a fellow friend?"
"He doesn't look like a fucking friend." I suddenly felt bad for poor Brandon. My brother looked at him in a way that only told me to run, much less him.
I pointed a finger at Layla. "Her fault. She was trying to play matchmaker." I put both hands up in surrender. "I didn't wanna play, but she forced me to."
Enzo switched his eyes to Layla, who's drink was half-empty on the counter. I waited for the same frustration- the same indifference he held towards Brandon or maybe the stern protectiveness he had with me, but it wasn't there.
Instead his eyes fell down her body, lingering far too long on places other than her face. I knew my brother. He had a maximum of five expressions in his homo-sapien library, and that- that was not one of them. His eyes went back up to her face, sharpened a little with something like- remorse? And then he said something to Brandon I didn't hear because I was too busy rubbing my eyes to make sure I saw it right.
Layla's chest rising faster than a minute ago was enough proof.
Okay, what the hell?
Surely the hallucinations caused by crack weren't this aggressive? I turned to look for Brandon, but he was gone. Oh no. Did Enzo make him cry? It's happened before. Maybe not verbally, but physically, hell yes. I've seen my brother do things I wish I never saw. Things that consist of many warnings I don't seem to get before I enter the communal warehouse.
What? If racks of free Cabernet were sitting anywhere, I sure as fuck would be grabbing one whenever I could.
"Where's Nikolas?"
Me and Layla shared a nervous glance.
"At home," I said, but regretted it as soon as Enzo's jaw ticked.
Shit. He was mad.
"The guards?"
My head pounded as the music suddenly felt too loud. Was it the drugs?
"He didn't send any with us." Layla answered.
"The fuck? You both are here alone?"
"I don't see the problem. We're fine, and.." It took me a minute to pull up my dress and show him the gun. "You know I can use it."
He yanked it off me and aimed at the bar counter.
"Wait-!"
No sound.
"It's unloaded. The son of a bitch gave you an unloaded gun, and you didn't notice?"
I took in a deep breath. "He didn't exactly.." Enzo's eyes sharpened, "Give it to me. I took it. But it's fine-"
"It's not fucking fine. I'm taking you back before some bastardo notices your from the family and tries to make a hit. Come on."
I stayed sitting. He gave me a warning look, then passed it onto the twin beside me.
"Layla. Go home." My brother's voice ran even deeper than the bass of the music.
She gave him a firm look. "I drove her here-"
"Go. Home."
Something sparked and fizzled as they stared at each other, suddenly making me feel like I was interrupting something very private.
I hobbled off the stool. "It's okay. I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?" My tap on the shoulder made her pull out of the eye-match with my brother. My balance wavered a bit, but I gripped Enzo's shoulder and he had to slouch low for me to stand up straight. I could see the irritancy on his face, but why was he here in the first place? My brother hadn't touched a club's entrance in.. years.
All three of us headed out, and Enzo waited for Layla to hop in and leave before he dragged me to his and all but shoved me into the passenger seat.
"Jeez. You just can't be gentle, can you?" I rubbed my arm.
He turned the ignition. "It would've been worse if someone else caught you speaking that bullshit rather than me." His hard stare hit the side of my face.
This seat was surprisingly comfy.
"Okay, well, if you put an attractive person in front of me, you can't expect me to not comment on it." I shrugged, putting my feet on the dashboard and reclining the seat.
"You're getting married in two fucking weeks, Adriana. You can't be playing around. Russians don't do that shit."
"Guess what? Russians also do not care." I crossed my arms over my chest and closed my eyes.
"If not you, he does care about that little boy serving drinks. The moment one of his men sees you getting too comfortable, you're gonna be his punching bag. And so help me, you know how shit will blow up if Papa finds that out."
I nodded behind closed eyes. "Gotcha. No pick-up lines on strangers anymore."
I knew the next minute of silence was actually him deciding on whether he should make me walk home or not. But my big 'ol brother wouldn't do that.
He's too.. Enzo.
"Get your feet off the dash."
It was too much work, so I pretended I was asleep instead.
"Adriana."
This time, I listened.
He pulled out of the parking lot and this time I actually did feel myself dipping, but not into a nice sleep. It was a weird daze, that made sweat bead at my forehead and my head pound.
Fuck.
Maybe I should've listened when Layla said no to stealing Hugo's pot.
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I woke up to a cold sweat on my forehead, teeth chattering, and a headache so bad I couldn't open my eyes. My head was slapped against the seat, while wind blew into the right side of my face. I gathered that the door was open.
"An unloaded gun doesn't do shit when there's men out there who have money compounded just to slit her neck."
Enzo?
"She's smart enough to steal my gun, and you don't think she can fucking handle herself?"
Was that Nikolas? No way.
He's supposed to speak in monotone.
"She's a woman. No man is trusted around her." I felt the frustration pound through Enzo's voice. He wouldn't pull out his pistol, would he? That would ruin things for good. I debated on whether I should wake up. I wanted to.. but my body said no to that. I couldn't even move.
"And you're not her goddamn fiancé."
"I'm not. But I'm her family. And I'd rather kill myself than see her hurt, so pull your shit together before I let my father know how you handle your responsibilities."
I was swimming in and out of their conversations, half asleep. Anytime Nikolas's voice cut into my hearing, I tried my best to stay awake. His voice was so powerful, so freakishly intense, that I had no choice.
"Adriana is my fucking responsibility. You don't think I know what she's like? That she could easily end a man's life with a dagger and a couple of words?"
His responsibility?
My mind itched to go against that, to say that I was my own responsibility and that I didn't need anyone. Instead, the flutter in my belly took over. His confidence in the idea that I had that power.. it made me feel some type of way.
There was silence for a while- I don't know if there was anymore talking, but pretty soon I felt my door open farther, and then two strong arms lift me up. I think I fell asleep, all body aches considered, but I knew I was being carried into the house. The rumble of a car faded, and house lights poked into my vision.
A few dark minutes later, a soft mattress was under me, two hands casting a warm brand against my waist. It felt nice. Comforting.
When they left me, everything went cold again.
I fell into a deep sleep much worse than in the car.
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long ass chapter u better have liked it