[Dark Romance] [In the process of editing]
In a life of forbidden emotions a lady in disguise has to follow certain rules. Once they're broken - she is as good as dead.
To each rule she finds an exception that leads to a consequence of choosing bet...
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I give forth in incredulity the air from my lungs, resting my head on a steering wheel and acknowledging what I've done. "Holy fuck,"
Back then, when I had been standing on the ring, I was confident in myself. I knew that I'd whoop anybody's ass, nonetheless, my opponent, frankly, seemed to be stronger than me.
I shake my head and mutter, biting on my lower lip. "It makes no sense," Swiftly, my demeanor takes another turn, reminding me of how things are turning out in my favor and a low and hurried chortle expels from my throat, my expression morphs to ominously vicious as I look at the mirror, putting on the balm on my swollen lips. "But I like it."
If only he knew he signed the death sentence.
Gliding my finger along the steering wheel of my Ferrari, I start the engine and drive to my flat. Looks like I'm moving to another country. I have a little over three hours left to pack my stuff. With whiskey in my system, cops, hopefully, out of my sight and pride on my shoulders, I race home.
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I press the knob of my apartment's door silently, closing it, as I enter the passwords on the front security panel to lock my penthouse. The arrow of the digital clock on my wall is aimed at the southern west, it is 8 in the morning. Right on a smooth texture of wooden sideboard, I hang the keys of my Ferrari and head to the bathroom, prowling along freshly moped tiles.
I stop startled when I hear some noises coming from the kitchen and my head whips to the left. Just great! – I cheer to myself. It's been a while since I had some fun by way of unlooked-for visitors. Slowly creeping along the hall on my tiptoes, I take out my dagger and pry inch by inch.
"Morning," shoots Lola while holding the frying pan in her left hand and a bowl with pancake dough in the other. Her eyes cast down and she notices the shiny blade in my palm, as she limps back, swallowing loudly the air. Panic dispels on her warm features.
I exhale the last leftovers of unease, as relief overcomes my soul. After tonight's soiree, nothing appears to be safe, not even my home. In response, I say nothing to her, instead nod with a plain face.
