[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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
2 am
I lay on the soft mattress of my bed, as my head gushes to the right and I stare out of the panoramic windows that unleash New York, mostly common as the city of dreams, when in reality it's pasture of delinquencies.
The land for those who pursue quick cash, cheap sex but predominantly – vendetta.
Indeed, it is a sight from vision boards we all dream of, the city is even more enchanting at night, especially at those parts nobody roams.
Despite the absence of lights in my bedroom, it is fairly lit up by the ones outside. My room is not familiar with darkness, unless my soul enters it. I zone out, thinking of how I woke up. Was it Lola's snoring? - I wonder to myself and close my eyes.
The vibration of my buzzing phone on the nightstand sweeps to me the feeling of Deja Vu. I groan silently due to the interruption of my other attempt to sleep. So that's how I woke up in the first place. Or it's the unsettling anxiety of being watched after the events in the club. Barely keeping my eyes open, I hiss, as the lightness of my screen nearly burns my eyes. The banner pops up on the top of the screen and I tap on it, entering the password, which reveals following messages.
New notification: Meet me at 4 am at DD. -Cole
Lola turns around to me with a sleepy face. Her palm crawls under the pillow and brushes away her messy hair from her eyes, as she hums. "Hmm?"
I decided it'd be safer if she stayed at my place. We needed to discuss many things, the earlier executed therapy in my living room wouldn't have occurred unless we both took the medicine that sponsored her peaceful sleep – it was whiskey, Glenfiddich Grande Couronne 1937 Rare collection, US$120,000 per bottle.
Indeed, I have an eye of the raven.
Medical degree had always been absent in my resume files but my friend was as peaceful as ever. Despite some lies I came up with to her: "Where would you get a fucking gun and guts to fight?" , my street education made sure her pretty mind was nourished to comply with me. Sadly, or not, I couldn't rely on her, not when she could accidentally bail me out because of fear of pressure.
I purr, turning on the silent mode on my phone, as I shake her off and get up to leave my bedroom. "It's nothing, go back to sleep." Lola is half-asleep, so she silently hums something, eventually falling on the pillow, catching up with a dream she was having.
Quickly getting ready, I throw on a black bodysuit, a mask to cover a part of my face, and comfortable shoes. No, not heels, sadly. I add a few slaps on my face that appear to be irritating to me, thus, keeping me wide awake. To complete my outfit, I slip a few enormous rings on my fingers, veiling them under black gloves.
