T W O

~ ANASTASIA ~

I was crying in my sleep. And when I woke up, my face was filled with dried tears and my nose was blocked.

Good.

Just how I wanted my weekend to start.

I unplug my phone. The whole scene with Hector and Alexander better be a nightmare. But when I scroll through my call logs, I discovered it's one hell of a reality. I groan, crawling out of the bed.

If this goes on, I might just end up a lonely Billionaire. But I still need to confirm from Hector. Like, who knows, the bitch might be lying or something. I enter the bathroom and stand before the mirror.

Stormy gray eyes and chestnut brown hair stares back at me. And ‘a mess’ will be a fucking understatement to describe the current me. Like, my hair looks like a bird's nest and my eyes are all puffy and red as if I just walked straight out of a horror movie.

I turn on the faucet, allowing the cool water to drop onto my hand before splashing some on my face. After brushing my teeth, I move back to my room and grab my phone.

Hector owes me an apology and an explanation.

I dial his number. And I watch it ring until it goes to voicemail. I grit my teeth. Hector is always with his fucking phone so the little fucker deciding not to pick this call…

I call him again, and he picks up after two rings.

“Wassup?” His deep voice asks from the other side and I bite my lip in relief.

“Hector…”

“Why did you call, Anastasia?”

Anastasia?

Hector never calls me by my full name.

I inhale. “Did the bitch tell you I called yesterday and did she tell you she filmed you —”

“One. Rose is not a bitch. Two. Don't you ever dare verbally harass her again.” He snaps.

“Please give the phone to Hector.” I say, my grip on my phone tightening.

He barks out a laugh. “Well, baby, this is Hector, and sorry to break it to you but we are done. And it'd been so long since we were done but guess what? You never read the vibe. It was nice doing a mafia princess Annie.”

Then the phone beeps.

I stare into the distance. Hector… he cut the call. He…

I bit my lip, trying to keep in the tears but it came spilling anyway.

I bolt to my feet. Escape. I need an escape. But I just woke up, and I'm not sleepy. I walk towards my reading table and sit down, drawing my books closer. This is an escape too. Working towards my masters degree at Stanford is an escape too.

Then, I start. I don't know how long I'd started but when I lift my head, my gaze lands on the glass penthouse without curtains opposite mine. And again, Damien fucking Vincenzo is naked. But bless the gods, he was wearing pants — his chest which is not riddled with even a spec of ink was bare — leaning casually against his kitchen's sink, a cup of coffee in hand.

I glance at the clock. But who the fuck drinks coffee at four fucking PM in the e—

Wait! Evening? I spring to my feet, my books scattering on the floor.

Evening?! I wince, imagining the lectures Alexander will make me go through. Right at that moment, my doorbell rings and I groan before walking towards the door.

On opening the door, I was tackled to the ground.

“Anaaaaa!” Isabella chimes, almost suffocating me with how she held my neck in a chokehold all in the name of a hug.

I smile, awkwardly patting her back. She moves back to look at my face. “I've missed you.”

Me too.

But I didn't say it. Instead, I pull her into another hug, inhaling her cherry scent mixed with channel.

Someone clears their throat and Isabella pulls away from the hug. I shift my gaze behind her and my grin widens.

“Claud.” I whisper.

Claud has been Isabella and I bodyguard since when we were on strollers. Shit, that might be an overstatement. Well, what I meant was that, Claud has been with us since when I could remember.

He walks towards me and pulls me into a hug before rubbing my head like how he used to do when I was a kid and I groan, swatting his hand away.

“Stop that will you? I'm nineteen now.”

He smiles, his left cheek dimple revealing itself. “I won't.”

Isabella, my younger sister grabs my arm again. “Why are you not dressed?”

I roll my eyes. “Well, I lost the sense of time.” I say, my face almost heating up when I remembered what reminded me of the dinner.

I turn to Claud. “And do you know why Alex insists I come with you guys?”

He stares at me. I stare back.

“You know, do you?” I ask again.

“I'm sorry, Ana.” He says, breaking my gaze.

I turn to Isa. “You?”

“He said nothing throughout the ride here.” She says, shrugging casually.

I grit my teeth, pinning my glare on Claud. And I sigh. Knowing Claud, he won't tell me.

“I will be back.” I say to them, moving into the apartment. They follow.

I rush to my room which sure looks like a total disaster and I hurriedly grab a short black Gucci gown from the bed. Blame me for doing laundry and not folding them.

After wearing it and matching it with strapless black heels, I rolled my hair into a messy bun and applied lipgloss and mascara.

I step out of my room. Isabella was checking the books on my reading table and Claud was checking his phone with his legs crossed.

I shift my gaze to the apartment opposite mine. He's dressed now. Prolly going out to save the day just like the devil he is.

“I'm done.” I announce.

Claud stands, motioning for me to take one of his arms and Isabella, the other.

“Let's get this done with.”

The car ride was filled with Isabella's chattering and Claud’s bickering with me trying to hold back my laughter.

It was ten minutes past five when we finally reached the venue. A high-end Chinese restaurant. We were leaning against the car with Claud definitely conversing with Alexander through the phone when another car pulled up beside ours.

I shift my gaze to the car, my eyes widening in horror when Damien fucking Vincenzo steps out of the car.

And all the memory comes rushing in again. He's probably here to pick up the remains of my shattered soul. The door was opened for him and he strolls towards us. I inhale, barely regaining my composure after hiding my shaky hands behind me.

All the nerves in me are screaming for me to run. The enemy is here, and for what reason if not to cause destruction.

And before I can stop myself, I find myself saying. “Well well, look what the trash truck spit out.”

Then, I grab Isabella in panic and start to run towards the entrance of the restaurant. Vincenzo won't hurt a Zhukov in public. He… won't…