𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 |𝟏𝟖+

50 || Bad Decisions

Beach Weather - Sex, Drugs, Etc

𝔚𝔚𝔚
Celina

Rain pours, thunder echoes, and light strikes the darkness in split seconds.

The downpour outside doesn't stop, it brews a greater storm between him and I. One where the emptiness in place of what once was light proves to heighten all that lurks in the dark.

Danger. Chaos. Bad decisions.

His cologne roots me to my spot, his steady breath threatens my sanity and when he steps closer, it weakens my resolve.

I manage to speak. "What are you doing?" It's meant to be far angrier, but I can't help what the truth does to me.

He's one step closer, speaking low, "Nothing that you don't already want."

He's insane in his approach, but it's rather enticing. He's obsessive in his clinginess, but it's anything but a turn off. He's stalkerish in everything else, but his methods are oddly endearing.

He's twisted. A type of man he's made me realize I crave.

"Unless you're going to drop dead," I feel him near, and I know that if he touches me, I'll turn weak. "I don't want it."

He chuckles. In the dark it's easier to hear the hoarse edge to his tone, the way it floats out like a hum, scratchy in its foregin nature, yet soothing enough to sway my body towards his.

Yet another reminder of the horrid truth; Adrik Kozlov is my type and I fucking hate it.

The universe seems to share the hatred for in an instant, lights flicker on. They're dimmed, yellow lights, and fewer throughout the space, telling me the backup generators have kicked in. But nonetheless, it clears the danger we were headed towards.

Adrik's lips tighten, the sharp angles of his face dance with disappointment, while his fingers stop, inches from my face.

The only thing the light fails to take away is the irritability to his appeal.

Slightly damp from the rain, his shirt clings to his form, while his black hair sticks to his forehead.

Why'd he have to be so hot?

I shove him and walk away, only for him to call after me, "Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm leaving this way," I don't look back at him, I walk towards the door, while motioning to the balcony for him. "You can go back the way you came." There's no way I'm willingly subjecting myself to that again.

Footsteps echo behind me, his low voice soon follows. "I'll come with."

That makes me pause just as I reach the closed door where tension coils my bones and forces me to face him.

He declared war mere hours ago. Every Italian wanted his blood and was now cleared to get it. He was an enemy on their soil. The hotel was the worst place to be. "Someone will see you."

"I'll manage." Vivid blue eyes flicker across my face, while his lips naturally tip to one side. "You're worried about me." His observation is so self assured, I force an eye roll. Yet I make no move to leave, or let him go through the doors.

While we aren't fans of the Italians, we're both smart enough to know that loyalty was a priceless virtue to them. They died for it, killed for it, and crossed any and every line in the name of it.

Adrik may not have feared them, but a part of me. A small, tiny part of me feared what they'd do to him if they found him here, alone.

Alessio Galanti wouldn't be so kind as to let him walk away this time. He'd taken his fathers mob and built it into an empire. And as much as it pained me to admit, he was not an easy kill nor was he an easy feat. If he was, Adrik would have taken him out long ago.