Dahlia Wellburg hates her misery as much as she loves it. She sees herself as a stone: ordinary and unwanted. Yet, they know her to be a rose: soft, but with thorns.
. . .
Mature Content. Check the tags.
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"This must be overwhelming."
"Step away from the door and let me through."
Elliot or whoever the fuck he was, kept standing against the door. "We need to talk." I hated how monotonous his voice was.
"No."
"Dahlia."
"No." I took a deep breath. "Step away. Or I will scream."
His lips twitched. He stepped forward, making me take a step back, and kept his eyes on me. "Sit-" he began. "the fuck down."
My hand was bleeding. I had scratched the skin off my index finger with my thumb. I looked down at it, just as a drop of blood fell on the ground.
"You're scaring her." I don't know who said it. My back was turned towards them. I kept my eyes on the drop of blood, trying to keep my breathing even. Inhale. Exhale. That's all. Just one more time. Inhale. Exhale.
"Hello," one of the twins - the one without the suit jacket - stood in front of me. But I didn't look at him. Was I scared? Was I just shocked? What was I feeling?
A finger touched my chin, gently, and nudged my head up. The man looked down at me, a soft smile on his lips. He looked so approachable, till my eyes fell on the five vertical scars on his neck, all of them visible through the ink.
"Dahlia." He said my name.
I looked up at him, into his eyes, and the intense green of them shocked me for a moment. They were the deepest shade of green, almost black but not quite.
"Please have dinner with us," he said. "Just dinner. Nothing else."
I shook my head. "I want to go home."
Was this a betrayal? Had I even trusted Elliot enough to be betrayed by him? Maybe he and his brother often did this - tried to trick girls. They had everything identical, even the scar on their faces.
The man nodded. "Can I drop you off, then?" His voice was so gentle, yet had a rumble to it. It teased the ear as if his lips were pressed on the shell of it. There was an accent to it. Russian? Perhaps. Whatever the accent was, it was barely alive.
I shook my head. "I don't know you. I'll call a friend."
"I'm Andros Kozlov," he said and then nodded toward someone. "That's my brother - Hedeon Kozlov." The twin.
I nodded wordlessly. I couldn't look at Elliot...both of them. It was hard to even comprehend that there were two of them. Two. Which one had I seen at the wedding? Then the shop? Then again at the shop? Then at the bar?
Which one had I been dreaming of?
"Can I walk you out?" Andros asked me and I nodded again.
"Dahlia-" one of the Elliots began but I pushed myself out of the room before the sentence could finish.
