Divergent souls || 2

Twelve

CHAPTER TWELVE ⇆ ANGELINA
So it's been a week since I agreed to Rowan's offer, I'm not entirely regretting it but I can feel the downfall of it coming, nothing came up all the week, no events, no talks, nothing.

Which meant that something shitty was coming up, call me pessimistic, but that's usually how things work, "In two weeks, we'll travel to Las Vegas." My agent's voice pulls me back from my racing thoughts and my brows furrow as a question sparks in my mind but she instantly answers it.

"We'll meet with a couple of retired models, you can take advice from them and stuff like that." She starts and places another piece of cloth on my hand, I eye the tight shirt and absorb her words.

It's not particularly a surprise to me but I thought that I was still at the very beginning of that, I get distracted again when my phone pings in my pocket, so I excuse myself and stroll toward the bathroom.

That's the only way to escape the woman, figuratively, literally, physically, She gets the hint but doesn't do a single action toward it, basically being professional, but I don't have time for that.

I see Rowan's name flashing across the screen and click on the accept button, "Shocking." Sarcasm drips from his tone the moment I answer, it's probably cause I don't usually answer his calls.

For numerous reasons.

I roll my eyes at his remark "Hilarious." I deadpan and clear my throat, waiting for him to speak, he laughs, the sound sends a weird tickling along the back of my neck, and the urge to kill myself heightens.

"We have a meeting tonight." He explains and I sigh, before I even have a chance to speak, he hurries there, "You're coming to my house, not the other way around." He states, he's been basically coming over daily lately.

So I understand his request, however, I still have to ask the rich bastard "Which one?" He chuckles lowly, "Not the one my dad is living in obviously." He states and I sigh in relief, I despise Rowan's father, hence that, despise is a weak word, I resent him.

His actions, his attitude, every fucking thing in this world about him, for a lot of reasons, "Fine." I grit out forcefully, I can see his smile widen, sometimes my mind still goes back to that day when I was sick last week.

When we just sat there and watched pride and prejudice like there isn't a gap between us, emotionally, like we're just as before, in each other's arms, laughing and smiling.

It's equally painful and comforting, everything about Rowan currently is, "I'll be waiting for you, My Angel." He finishes the call with his sweet talk and I roll my eyes but a smile surprisingly finds its way across my lips.

No, I don't like this in the slightest.

We end the call moments later and I'm left again with my thoughts. My mind doesn't seem to get tired when the topic is about Rowan. And lately, it's been about him way too much than I'd like.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Two knocks and then I find a tall brunet opening the door for me with a grin, "Hello, Lina." He says dramatically and I roll my eyes as I step inside, it's no surprise to me how fucking rich he is.

His father is an owner of three companies so it makes a lot of sense, My eyes uncontrollably flit around, since this is supposedly Rowan's house; it should reflect him. But right now as my eyes take in the decor.

This is giving a much deeper image than the one Rowan shows, to anyone generally, paints of people, nature, and Landscapes, they're beautiful, so so much that I can't take my eyes off them.

Things like that always captured my eyes, how people can be so artistic and creative, yet reflect life in the realest form, and the most beautiful one at the same time.

We both continue walking into the non-ending villa, lavishing exquisite taste of antiques sprawled across the counters, I'm not entirely surprised cause His fucking father had a hand in decorating this, he once told me that.

One piece of antiques catches my attention and my surroundings seem to dim in the background as I walk toward it, mesmerized is quite literally the only word that can express what I'm feeling.

It's a small sculpture of a man, painting with his brush, I don't exactly know why that catches my attention since I'm not even into drawing or painting, but this is just majestic for some reason.

"So Beautiful, hm?" I sense a mock in Rowan's tone, it makes some annoyance spread through my body, As I squint my eyes and turn to him, a smug smile is stretched over his face, but the corners of his eyes are wrinkled.

Telling me that it's genuine.

I don't know if I'm supposed to be frustrated or happy with the fact that he loves annoying me, to be honest, so I just decide to play along, "Very." I let out dryly as I look up into his eyes.

Honey, Books, wood, you can see a lot of things in them, I've always loved them, not that I'm ever going to admit that, his lips lift in a smirk as he tilts his head.

"Are we still talking about the Antique, Angel?" He asks in a low tone, something drips from it and I can't decide entirely what it is, but I'm sure that it's the cause of the sudden tension.

"Yes." I admit, he sighs, "Shame, thought you were getting good at being flirty, but as usual you suck." He explains Coolly and the urge to punch him spikes, I'm not even a violent person.

It's never been my number one priority or thought for the matter when I'm out for revenge or a battle, but As usual, Rowan brings out the worst in me, so that's exactly what I tell him.

Shrugging nonchalantly as I lift a shoulder, even when I feel fire erupting in my stomach, "You're fucking patronizing." I state under my breath, not bothering to make my words nicer.

"You have such a filthy mouth." He raises a brow, lips still lifted in a smirk, and his eyes are sparking with—Challenge I'd say but Rowan isn't usually challenging so it's a bit of a surprise.

"Does it bother you?" I ask hopefully as we both start walking away from the earlier antique, I look at him sideways, taking in his expression, it's only a further lift of his lips.

"Never." He murmurs and leads me up a long staircase, Jesus Christ, this is more than overdone, it's over fucking dramatic, the whole house is. "Where are we going?" I ask, annoyed by this long way.

"My room." He replies and I clear my throat as I straighten my sundress, It's flowery and colorful, unlike what I normally wear which is why I didn't miss the way Rowan has been staring down my frame.

Moments pass and we're in front of the said room, "Don't be shy." He points out and I glare, his smile widens and I step inside the room, annoyed by his remark.

It's not an insult, but coming from Rowan's mouth, it might as well be, The first thought that comes to mind when I take in the room, is that it's not him, it's organized, neat, and well, Dark.

He walks toward his queen-sized bed and drops on it, wiggling his brows as he stares up at me, My eyes snap to his and the look in them darkens, the brown color might as well be black at the moment.

"What do you think?" He asks, raising a questioning eyebrow, "It's beautiful." I let out, sincerely, it is but it doesn't reflect Rowan in the slightest, "There's a but here, No?" He observes and I grit my teeth, not liking that he saw through the barriers I built.

"But it's not like you." I form it great, thankfully, he doesn't look bothered, not in the slightest actually, as he stretches back on the black silk sheets, eyes turning in my direction.

"Not from outside no, but it matches the chaos in my mind, Dark and odd, Or like..." he continues to gesture with his fingers for a moment as if he's Trying to find the perfect word.

He then snaps with his fingers, eyes filling with victory of finding the said word, and then he speaks.

"Divergent."

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