28 • Heartless

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Luca

There's one rule I always went by; never have a fucking weakness.

But that's yet another one of my rules broken by Rosalie Elena Romano. Even as she stares up at me with hope in her emerald, green irises, a captivating smile etched onto her soft, plump lips, her silky, copper hair messily pulled into a ponytail.

Her small hand sits on top of mine as it rests on her belly, feeling the feather movements inside.

It's real. We're having a fucking baby.

You would've thought it would've felt more real when I heard the heartbeat, but I didn't have time to dwell on it. I bolted. I fucking drowned myself in alcohol.

I saw the hurt in her doe, green eyes. I felt her disappointment right in my fucking gut. I sensed the irritation in her voice like knives to my chest.

But it's better to drive myself away than get attached.

I retract my hand from her and stand, turning my head away to avoid the saddening in her eyes. The idle glass of whiskey sits on the counter, wailing at me.

Drown your sorrows in the temporary illusion. It won't make anything better.

"What are you doing awake at this time?" My eyes jump to the enclosed laptop with her phone beside it.

"Erm, n-nothing," she stammers and avoids my eyes. Frustration flies through my veins.

I lower my head to hers and watch as she shrinks back into the island. I smell her natural, floral aroma and hints of her strawberry shampoo. I almost indulge in the scent because of an addictive, bizarre feeling created in me. I place my hands on either side of her, caging her small body in, and watch how she repels like a magnet and grips the counter to try and put as much distance between us.

"I don't like it when people lie to me, Rose. Don't hide shit from me," I demand with narrowed eyes.

She meets my eyes and there's no fear in them, only a glaze of gentle agitation. I'm not surprised that she's not scared of me. She's mentioned it before, and I think she's come to terms that I would never physically hurt her.

"S-some," she clears her throat and meets my eyes again, "someone messaged me. I need to find out who it is. I think it's Samuel Perez, but I need to be sure."

I loathe that man. Even his name makes me want to beat him 10 fucking dimensions away. Usually, I'd be raging at the possibility that he could've messaged her, but I already burnt down all the supplies he stocked for himself the day after we found out he was the one targeting us. This is just his way of getting back at me, through her.

I release her from my untouched grip, and she twirls back to the laptop, opening it up and typing in some keys.

"It's 2 am, Rosa. You can do this in the morning," I say, after checking my watch, and she shakes her head placing a loose strand behind her ear.

"I can't sleep, Luca. Ever since I got those messages, I need to see if this all links." The strand falls loose again, and she sighs, frustratedly, but this time, I reach out and tuck it behind her ear. She side-glances me then returns to clacking the keys.

I'm supposed to be detaching from her but, fuck, her hair is so soft and silky and smells so damn good that I can't help it. I desire to have my hands in it again.

I let my fingers trace through the strand, and they brush against her bare shoulders when they reach the end of it. Tugging the hair tie out, her hair elegantly cascades in waves down her back. There's a part that is uneven, and I realise they must've cut her hair from this.

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