KADES POV:
"What do you mean 'He's back?'" Malia asked with scrunched brows, crossing her arms over her chest as she tilted her head. Her curls fall gracefully over her shoulders, which takes all my self-control from touching them.
The fire lights over her face, sending a firework racing up my heart before exploding.
God, it fucking hurts to even look at her.
It stays silent for a while, Hera staring silently at the warm fire while sipping her cup.
"Your mom," I say, picking up the note from the floor, "hasn't told you-" Hers slams her cup down, standing up before pulling her blanket tighter to her chest. "Kade," She begins, her eyes flaming as she glares up at me, "we will not discuss this right now." She seethes out, her Greek accent becoming profound.
I breathe out, shaking my head. Malia has thought all her life that her father was some stranger. But she had no fucking idea that her father was the reason I left.
Her father wasn't a stranger at all. He was the fucking enemy.
And her mother has made Malia look like a fucking fool.
My fist clenches tighter as I pace back and forth, running my hands through my hair for the hundredth time now.
Malia stands up, looking at her mom with confused eyes. "Mom, what is he talking about?" She asks, her breath shaky as she looks up at me. Quickly, I put my head down. I can't fucking stand looking at the sense of hurt on her face.
"I think it's time for you to go, Kade," Hera says with a sharp tone, her eyes cast downward as she gulps. It goes silent for a moment again, only this time it feels like I'm the one getting burned instead of the wood in the fire.
I nodd absently, tucking the note into my pocket discreetly before turning to Malia. She looks up at me, her breath hitching silently. It's as if I can feel every breath, sigh, and laugh.
It's like I'm woven into her fucking skin, and I couldn't feel more at home. Her eyes are watery, making me want to rip apart the fucking world.
I hold my hands behind my back, restraining myself as much as I can from touching her. Because if I do, all I will be able to think about is that soft fucking skin of hers.
Soft, so supple and smooth. The urge to run the tip of my tongue over her collarbone itches at me like an uncomfortable dog collar.
My mouth opens for a second, the words I'm screaming to say to her on the tip of my tongue. I feel like going to the tallest building in the world and yelling every thought I think about her to the fucking world.
I want to tell her every lie her mother has told her, show her why I left. But I know, if I do, war is to come.
But my mouth closes, only her soft breaths and the crackling fire ringing through my ears. "Goodbye, Malia," I mutter, turning away not before giving her one more lingering stare.
And every step I take away from her is every arrow piercing my heart.
_____________________________________
"So," Caroline begins, dabbing the steak sauce from her caked red lips. "I heard that Hera's house got broken into?" She clicks her tongue, circling a damaged strand of hair between her fingers.
My hands tighten as I cut into my steak forcefully before taking another bite. This time chewing slowly so that I don't break my jaw by how irritated I am. Not because of Caroline, no but because of fucking Dante.
"I'm sure Hera is perfectly fine," Dante says innocently, a cheeky smile on his face that I feel like slapping the fuck off. Caroline gives him a flirty smile, touching his shoulder sensually. "I'm sure she is, sweetheart."
My leg bounces underneath the dramatic dining table, the dim Victorian chandeliers casting an eerie yellow light. The dining table is set with tacky red placemats adorning all eight seats, the chairs also having a red paisley pattern.
Even though there's fucking three of us.
The tackiness doesn't end there, with overly fancy candle holders and long curtain drapes. It feels like you are living in a fucking 1800s mansion fit for a duchess, only this time, all the accessories look like they came from a fucking gas station.
The valid proof that money doesn't buy taste.
Even though I don't give a fuck what this damn gold digger picks out, it's clear I got my taste from my mother.
I make a cringe-like face. Even at my significant age, I still get the fucking ick at the thought of them being all lovey-dovey with each other.
"Dante," I say, clearing my throat before giving him a fake smile.
"I think you and I have something to talk about, alone." I cross my arms, spreading my legs leisurely. Dante chuckles, the fiery tension building up like a fire wall.
I stand up, pressing my hands onto the dining table. Caroline ignores us, taking pictures as she flaunts her new cartier necklaces. Dante's face changes as soon as Caroline wanders off, a dark shadow casting over his features.
He leans forward, the smell of tobacco and cigarettes burning my nose hairs off. "You're lucky you got bigger," he starts, a demonic smile on his face. "You think just because you're bigger than me now, that you have power?" He chuckles, his disgusting breath hitting my face.
"It doesn't." He sneers in my face, his face getting redder. "You're still the weak, powerless and breakable boy you were years ago." He whispers in my ear.
"That might be true to you, Dante," I begin, lowering my voice so that only he can hear. "But," I begin, taking my pocket knife out of my pocket before tracing over his hand pressing into the table.
"You took everything from me, now I'm going to destroy you." I whisper, putting more pressure into the blade as he winces.
"And once im done, i'll make sure my mother sees how fucking despicable you actually are."
YOU ARE READING
Perfect Storm (OFF HOLD)(REVAMP)
Romance"Please," He begs, dropping down to his knees as he pulls my body closer. He rest his head on my stomach, breathing in my scent heavily as his hands tighten on my body. "Please Malia, let me touch you. Let me feel you." He pleads, tilting his head...
