"Stop overthinking this, Angel... and just feel me!"
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Erika Ricci, 24, never expected a patient like him to knock her off her high horse.
Brandon A. King, 26, was immediately attrac...
What is that? Oh, you thought this was an update? How sweet.
KIDDING! IT IS! I SWEAR!
Here. You can have it. Happy now?
I bet you are. I sure am. And more than you will ever know.
Should probably read this one more time, but I'm exhausted after exams-week. So please excuse any mistake. Of course feedback is welcomed.
This is Brandon preparing to tell Erika everything she's been waiting to hear, since she met this big bad boy. I can't wait to share the next couple of chapters with all of you.. It's gonna be a wild ride.
Give me love (like Ed), and I'll update before next Friday...
~Enjoy, Angel.
___
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Erika's POV:
In Dante Alighieri's poetry, people were doomed to navigate between hell, purgatory, and heaven, all in the allegory called life.
As a teenager, I never gave the Italian poet's teachings much thought. A world of fighting and revolution were so far away from me. I grew up sheltered, wrapped in the warmth of my family. Guarded, I ignored the danger and doom caused by the mafia families lurking in all of Italy; I ignored the pain that kind of power needed as sacrifice.
"What are you doing here?"
Once the newcomer arrived in the room, I knew the rest of us were trespassing on the unspoken conversation between the three men. Frozen in place for what felt like hours, but was only seconds, no one dared to break the stillness.
"You shouldn't be back here, James," Brandon's voice tore the silence in the room, in a tone I never heard before.
James. At last, a face behind the name; the voice.
The face of the man in the club that night all those weeks ago. The eyes that seemed familiar, but somehow drowned in warmer hues than the brother staring daggers at him in that moment.
His smirk was all Brandon received, until his eyes found mine, deciding to throw more fuel to the flames. "I must say, beautiful, you looked stunning that night at the club, but my, oh my, you're a sight for sore eyes in the light. I don't even blame you, Brandon," James mocked.
Brandon's warm hand found mine, pulling me closer to him. "We're leaving."
With his nerves hanging by a thread, I let him take me away without resistance; I didn't want to be in that room any longer in the first place.
