So, today I remembered I can't push forward with my plans for my birthday unfortunately. My mom ran into some issues with her business and all of the money I had budgeted for my change of wardrobe (I haven't done that since 2019) and hair will have to go into helping her out so this birthday will be just like every other birthday! All in all, I'm grateful for life! And thank you for reading, liking, commenting snd for your reviews!
“Roman!” I screeched, my voice nearing hysteria. I watched as his back stiffened up as he made his way to his car, he stopped in his tracks, turning around slowly to finally face me. His lips were pressed into a thin line, his eyes cold, almost empty as he met my eyes. “Roman…” I breathed, realizing I couldn't just yell at him with that expression on his face. He looked rather annoyed by my presence. It had never been like that. Never. Has he truly…moved on from me? “Is that really all you came here to say? To defend Amelia, to threaten my father because of her?!” He inhaled deeply, audibly and then ran his fingers through his soft brown hair. “Bertha…I have nothing else to say,” I gasped, “Not even to me?” His brows furrowed deeply, “No, I have nothing to say to you,” He stated firmly, a chill glazing over his features making me take a subconscious step back. I forced my tears to show as I looked up at him…I knew he couldn't resist that. “Is this truly how
AMELIA“Trenton, hi!” I smiled as I walked into the living room, he was the first person I found and behind him was Vincent. His handsome face was bright with a smile the second he spotted me. “Hey, Vincent,” I greeted. “Miss Amelia,” “Amelia,” I couldn't help but notice it was a rather odd combination seeing these two men in one place, sharing a drink no less. Trenton had sent Fiona to call me down while I was in the bathroom and I told them to give me a few minutes. I might've spent more time than necessary in that bathroom trying to get my thoughts in order. Trying to fathom just how easily Roman had agreed to help me. I had thought he would say I should give in to their demands, tell me it's for the best. Instead… I was beginning to see the appeal. If a man can be that protective of me…that nice… I had to ask him about those memories, I had to know if they were dreams or reality. “Miss Amelia?” “Huh?” I blinked, raising my head to meet their e
“I um…have you…had breakfast?” Roman watched me for what seemed to be an eternity. The look in his eyes was intense, I found myself rooted to the spot as we gazed into each other's eyes. He shook his head slowly after the long silence stretched, uncomfortably so. I had many questions, many. And I wasn't sure where to begin or how to act around him. “Would you like to have some?” “No, I'm not hungry,” He replied, a faint frown creasing the space between his brows. “Oh…” What does one say to that? I cleared my throat and laughed awkwardly, running my fingers through my bob. Well, not much of a bob at this point, I needed to go to a salon. Maybe today…get a trim, get my mind off things. “Right…did you,” I looked at the ceiling for a second, unsure of how to pose the question, “Did you speak to him?” There was a glint of realization in his eyes, he gave me a small smile and made his way to the sofa. Plopping down on it with a heavy sigh. “I did, you have nothing
GREECEMy mother has always had an issue with everything and everyone. She wants everything to be be the way she wants, yet her own definition of perfection and what is right is so flawed, I am a bit ashamed it took me twenty years of living with her to realize it. “Greece! Did you even hear a word I said?!” She snapped, eyes glowering with fury. She didn't scare me, at least not as much as before because the harshness in her gone still made me flinch and nod shaking, taking a hold of the bags she'd handed to me. My mother had attendants and many assistants she could ask to do such menial labor, but she always picked me for it. Because I was the mistake child who always has to have a use to her rather than remind her of the ‘damage’ I caused to her body. And mental health. We were at a shopping mall, scrolling around with her bitchy friends who all kissed her ass like they were addicted to shit. Telling her everything she picked, wore, spoke was right, beautiful, graceful.
“What's your name?” I asked, watching as her gray eyes went wide as she tried to probably recall her name. It was funny to see the little girl bring her chubby fingers to her pouty lips and pat them like a thoughtful adult. “I…my name is Lisa,” She responded but still looked confused like she wasn't really sure if that was the correct name. “Lisa? Are you sure?” I asked with a cocked up brow, unable to hold back my smile. She nodded, still looking unsure. I sighed. “Alright, Lisa, where did you get separated from your dad?” She shook her head, eyes tearing up yet again. I patted her back in a panic, I loved kids but in that moment I realized I had no idea how to handle one. “It's okay, it's okay…” I reassured her gently. “We'll find him, just try to remember where he was, hmm?” She had that comical, thoutful look on her face again before finally, pointing in the direction she had walked out from. “The ice cream…” She mumbled, “I want ice cream,” “No, that's not what…”
ROMANYEARS AGO… "Hey! Stop right there!" The shout pierced the night air, shattering the fragile silence we'd maintained during our escape. My muscles tensed instinctively, adrenaline surging through my veins as I tightened my grip on Amelia's limp form. Her soft, ragged breathing tickled my ear, a constant reminder of the unexpected complication to my mission. "Halt! Or we'll open fire!" The voice was closer now, filled with the bravado of a guard who thought he had the upper hand. I didn't bother to look back. Instead, I poured every ounce of energy into my legs, pushing them to their limit as I sprinted towards the perimeter fence. The weight of Amelia on my shoulders was substantial, but the stakes were too high to slow down. The sound of boots pounding against concrete echoed behind us, growing louder with each passing second. I could almost feel the pursuers' breath on the back of my neck as I reached the fence. Without breaking stride, I shifted Amelia's weight to one sho
The elevator ride to the fourth floor was tense. Amelia's breathing had become more labored, and I could feel the heat of a fever radiating from her body. Whatever she'd been through, it was taking a serious toll. The door to the safe house opened as we approached, revealing Dimitri's stocky frame. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of us. "Bozhe moi," he muttered. "Roman, what have you done?" "Not now, Dimitri," I said, brushing past him into the apartment. "Where's the doctor?" "In the bedroom, preparing," Dimitri replied, closing and locking the door behind us. "Roman, you need to tell me what's going on. This wasn't a part of your mission." I ignored him for the moment, focusing on getting Amelia to the bedroom. A small, wiry man with graying hair looked up as we entered. His eyes quickly assessed the situation, and he gestured for me to lay Amelia on the bed. "What happened to her?" the doctor asked, already beginning his examination. "I don't know the details,
In that safe house, Amelia and I had a weird relationship, I wasn't sure it was classified as friendship but it was something. She was unpredictable, funny and she was comfortable. I wasn't sure when it began, probably on the third day after she woke up when she called me Rome for the first time, or maybe it was in the second week we had spent together. I knew Amelia and I had grown closer than friends. I'd never been understood or been that close to a woman before. It came with a feeling I didn't expect. One that made me realize after one month of living in that safe house with her, that if I didn't let her go back to her life…it would span from months to years and eventually, I would have to stop lying to her about the people who took her, I would drag her deeper into a world she knew nothing about. After finding out they took her accidentally, mistaking the poor woman for the heiress of the Guerreros who had died years back all because her mother bore a similar name…