His Princesa - 18+ | Old Version

C H A P T E R • 7

GABRIEL
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I couldn't keep my eyes off of her as we drove to her family's home. Though her attention was focused on the orange horizon outside of the black car, the emotions on her face unrecognizable, Vanessa still managed to look effortlessly stunning. Her perfected make-up did no justice to her natural beauty and it bothered me how she stared at herself sometimes.

The self-hatred she felt towards herself.

She didn't think that I noticed but I did.

However, right now we had more pressing matters. For example, she had kissed me which, oddly, was the first time we had ever kissed, and after an incredibly steamy make-out session, she had decided that giving me the cold shoulder was the way to go about her life.

"Any specific reason why you're ignoring me, princesa?" I questioned, her childish game beginning to irritate me tremendously. "Because I know I did something wrong."

She looked at me from across the two seats facing each other, the limousine bouncing over the indents and crevices in the road. Then, not even answering my question, she looked back out the window.

I had to stop myself from yanking her over my lap and teaching her a fucking lesson. I narrowed my eyes at her instead, noticing the way she could watch me for a few seconds from the corner of her eyes.

"Vanessa." I began to grind my molars, closing my eyes. This woman's moods changed so fast, I could never keep up with it.

However, she always seemed to listen when I used that tone of voice because her head snapped in my direction, her brown eyes slightly wide. Using one finger, I beckoned her over so she wasn't sitting across from me — she listened without a sound, taking off her seatbelt and sitting beside me.

"Talk to me," I said, cringing at how demanding I was. "What's going on?"

Silence.

"Do you ever look at yourself in the mirror," Vanessa hesitantly whispered, gnawing at her bottom lip gently, "and see a monster? Sometimes, I pretend I'm okay killing people; shooting them, torturing them for the sake of my team's lives... but it gets to me, you know?

"People call me Reina de la Muerte and I pretend to be fine with it... but does it make me weak for feeling guilty for killing everyone I have? Or would it make me a monster for not giving a crap?"

I was silent, watching her play with her dress while looking out of another window.

"You're not weak for feeling remorse," I softly spoke, noticing how her eyebrows pushed together as she thought to herself. "It shows that you're not crazy; I would be concerned if you didn't feel anything."

Vanessa turned her head, staring at me again. "Do you... you know... feel anything?"

I watched her, taking in how timid she suddenly was. Vanessa was usually confident and didn't falter in the way she acted around everyone... so why the hell was I an exception?

I didn't have the heart to tell her that I took pleasure in watching people suffer. I never found it difficult to look someone straight in the eye and kill them, and then I would sleep without any troubles that night.