WillowThe sight of him sobers me up.He stands immobile, hands shoved in the pockets of his dark slacks. That’s Luciano for you, dressed to the nines in fitted Armani, even while idling the busy streets of Boston on a Sunday afternoon. Something about it has to corners of my lips twisting.I try to move past him, offering another apology, but he gets in my way. Wordlessly shoving himself in between me and my current path.I look up at him, a bite to my voice, “Is there a point to all this?”He’s unbothered, unnaturally calm as his eyes rove over every inch of me, starting at the top of my head, lingering on my face and moving down to the pointed tips of my black heels. “You’re crying.” He states.I scoff, “Oh, you don’t say. I had no idea it was that obvious.” I move to step past him again, but just like before, he blocks my path. I light up like a fuse, all my patience diminished.“What the hell are you doing? Can you let me through?”He doesn’t respond immediately, just patiently
Last Updated : 2023-10-10 Read more