Chapter 1

'Men are monsters'

I was eight when Mama told this to me. It was on a Sunday evening and we were seated by the fireplace. The evening was a little bit too chilly but I could adjust to it thanks to Mama's handmade quilt that was wrapped around me to keep away the cold. 

'They will take everything. Bleed you dry and leave you to rot away'

The look in Mama's eyes when she said that part had been so bitter and cloudy I had thought how monstrous men were. To have pulled such emotion from her, they must be callous. So I swore to never let any man come a mile too close to my heart, let alone think of stealing it.

But years later, I find myself breaking the promise. I fell in love with a pretty boy with eyes that put the stars to shame. I let his smile take my breath away. 

I guess I'm not so different from Mama after all. The woman had spoken vile things about men yet abandoned me for him. She chose a man over me.

I can't help thinking about how the apple truly doesn't fall far from the tree. She and I are so alike; foolish to the end I find myself allowing the all-consuming feeling to become part of the oxygen I breathe even though I don't desire to ever feel it, not for any man.

Men are monsters.

My heart would beat widely in my chest at the thought of him, threatening to jump out at the sight of him. 

Yes, his soul is beautiful, but he is still a man, right?

And men are monsters.

I hate how Romeo Sheridan clipped off my wings. I hate his power over me even though it's exhilarating. It often makes me high, but It also makes me vulnerable. And there is nothing I would rather not be than vulnerable, for vulnerability makes me prone to the cruelty of men. It makes them find it easy to take advantage of me.

Men are monsters indeed.

"Adelina." 

The echo of my name bounces against my barely-standing wooden door. Before I can lift my body off the windowsill, my door swings open, revealing a woman donning what she calls a salwar kameez suit or something like that.

 Sai Marrow, my adopted mother.

She and her late husband, Callum Marrow, adopted me from a run-down, low-equipped orphanage in New Mexico when I was fifteen. They said my soul called to theirs as soon as they saw me. But I had thought they were scientists who just wanted to turn me into some lab rat because of my rare rod-like pupils.

"What are you doing?" She asks, her eyes resting on the bunch of flowers in my hands.

"Making a posy for Romeo." I announce, waving the bunch of flowers in the air before proceeding to string a red ribbon around them, "Because I'm the best girlfriend ever."

"Mrs. Ferguson and her grandson were just letting out curse words at the unfortunate human being that dared to tamper with their flowers," She moves further into the room, snatching the flowers from me, "Why do I have a feeling my daughter is the flower thief?"

"Romeo is finally coming back from his stupid business trip tomorrow." I defend, following behind her when she begins to move to the dresser, "I needed to make something special to welcome him. You don't expect me to go all the way to that expensive florist when I have a beautiful garden just behind my window, right?"

The corner of her lips twitches into a lazy smile as she opens up one of the miscellaneous perfume bottles on the table, spraying one of them into the flower bunch.

"Something special, you say?" She turns to me with a curved brow, then hands me the flowers, "You give him flowers every time. Um, what do you even call it again?" she taps her forehead for recollection, "Right, a token of your affection. Now you are mismatching flowers in a bunch as a welcoming gift and you're calling it something special?"

"He loves flowers, Mom." I bite out rather defensively, "He's a billionaire. Got the world wrapped around his fingers. There's nothing I will give him that he can't afford a better version of. This cute, little posy, however, took me hours to make. I think the time and thought is golden, right?"

She sighs, an adoring smile on, "Of course. But don't you think there's no place in his house for all these flowers again?" She asks, "I for one think he's tired of them but he just doesn't want to tell because he knows you'll go bonkers."

"Damn you woman, what the fuck is your problem, honestly?!" I snarl with quite an exaggerated vehemence, my eyes narrowed. 

"Gosh, now I'm so pissed," I added with an irritated huff.

"You're so hot temp-" she's cut off by the sound of the doorbell which I am thankful for, by the way. Another lecture on how I need to stop getting angry so quickly is something I dreaded.

She walks out of the room to go get the door and I remain rooted in front of the mirror, my eyes shifting between the pretty followers in my hand and then back at my eyes in the reflection.

Romeo said he loves the little posies I keep making for him. No matter how many times I gave him, his eyes would light up and he would kiss me and tell me he loves them. Why is Mom saying he doesn't like them and is probably just accepting them with open arms to make me happy? 

Who is telling me the truth? My mother or Romeo?

Mom returns to the room, a familiar fruity, a quite tangy scent following her in.

"It's from Romeo." She brings a cute bag that has the logo of a cone with Whiteberry, inscribed on it and places it on the table. It's my favorite yogurt brand. Their Greek yogurt is the best. It could give you a glimpse of heaven. And it tastes as good as Romeo's kisses. Not like I'm going to ever tell him that.

"How?" I ask with furrowed brows, eyes shifting between her clueless face and the pretty bag with delicious content, "He's still in Italy."

"Maybe he's back?" She shrugs, leaning against the dresser, her fingers lifting to brush stray curls away from my face.

"How can he be back when he told me he was gonna be in New York only by tomorrow?" I ask, picking up my cell phone to dial his number quickly.

He picks up on the first ring.

"Whiteberry? Really?" I confront him before he can even speak up.

"You said you were craving it." His husky voice echoes through the speaker when he chuckles, and hearing the sound makes my heart do that thing where it would flutter again and again. It's so annoying. I hate it. Makes me feel like some hopeless teenage girl with a dumb crush.

So stupid.

"You're in New York, aren't you?" I raise a challenging brow even though he can't see me, then swat Mom's hand away from my hair.  

"Romeo?" I prompt when I sense a hesitation on the other side. He always does this; lies to me about his arrival time so I wouldn't show up at the airport to pick him up. And this is simply because I beat up some lady once for trying to get a picture with him at the airport.

"I just came in like an hour ago." He sighs and I hear the robotic, annoying feminine voice of the intercom he set up that always goes like 'Welcome home, master, how was your day, master?'

"You told me you were gonna arrive by 7 PM tomorrow." I don't realize I have started squeezing the flowers until some petals begin to fall off, "You know I was getting ready to come get you at the airport tomorrow. Even made a damn posy to welcome you, you son of a bitch!"

"Come on, babe," he tries to pacify me, his voice lazy, "Don't get worked up over this. There was a change of plan at the last minute." I hear the sound of the door being shut. "I'm sorry I didn't keep you updated." 

"Okay, why didn't you bring the yogurt yourself then?" I grumble, now sinking into the chair placed in front of the dresser, "Or didn't you miss me?" 

"I needed to freshen up and change." I hear shuffling of materials in the background, "And I'm so fucking drained I could drop dead any minute. That's why I sent the yogurt so you could have it first."

"Are you really that tired?" I ask a suspicious brow raised, "Or are you tired of me?" There was a pause and silence on both ends, "Romeo, are you bored of me?"

"Fucking Christ, here we go again." He murmurs under his breath, "I'm gonna send Leonard to come get you. Is that okay?"

"You didn't answer my question." I press. 

"No, I'm not tired or bored of you." He says sternly, "You're my favorite thing in the world. Or can't you hear the excitement in my voice 'cause I get to speak with you?"

I roll my eyes.

"When is he gonna get here?" I ask, fiddling with one of the pretty petals, "Leonard, I mean."

"He's running a little errand but he should be at your place in the next hour or something." He sighs with a tired groan.

This son of a bitch is tired of me. I bet he wouldn't have called if I didn't.

Men. Such scum.

"Okay," I glance at my side, remembering Mom was here with me a while ago. But the space is empty. I don't even realize when she left. Romeo has this way of snatching up my attention; everything else would become nonexistent or invisible to me. The sky could be falling, the sun coming a mile too close to Earth, the world in uproar and I won't even notice because I am in Romeo's space and world. 

I hate it. The way I love him. Maybe that's why I never told him. Five years and never for once did I let it slip from my mouth.

 I have never told him I love him.

But the thing is, I love him. My heart might as well burst from the amount of love in there for him.

And the man has this belief that I don't love him. So he keeps begging me for it; my heart. Only if he knows he has me wrapped around his fingers.

But he will never know. He must never know that I love him. Because he is still a man. 

And men are monsters.