Val
Mara???
Sent three days ago
Val
I just asked Eli if everything is good with you guys and he said you’re safe. Just get back to me when you can x
Sent two days ago
Me
Hiii Val! Sorry I wasn’t able to respond. Romiro’s robotic brother took my phone for “misbehaving.”
Exiting the chat with Valentina, I open the chat with my cousin Alessia.
Allie
Are you mad at me? Val tells me you’ve been texting her, but I still haven’t heard from you, traitor.
Sent five days ago
Allie
Wait…
Are you actually mad at me???
Sent four days ago
Me
No...I’m not mad at you. Your future brother-in-law took my phone.
Sorry, I didn’t mean to not text you. I’ve just been exhausted with everyone making decisions for me.
Instead of waiting for those two to text me back, I leave my phone on charge and head out of my room. I’m itching for a cigarette, but I know if I ask that asshole, he’ll say no, and his guards will report to their dictator. So, despite the fact that he’llprobably know it was me who did it, I still decide to sneak into his room.
The door creaks when I push it open, low and reluctant, like even the hinges are warning me not to go in. Figures.
Of course his room would look exactly like him: cold, controlled, sharp enough to cut glass. I didn’t get a chance to fully take it in the other night, being half-asleep and getting dragged along. The bed is made military-tight, sheets tucked with brutal precision, not a wrinkle in sight. You could bounce a coin off that thing, and it’d probably ricochet back and take someone’s eye out.
The colors are just as depressing: charcoal, black, steel-gray. No warmth, no softness, nothing that even hits at comfort. A robot’s nest.
Except…it isn’t. Because underneath all that order, there are cracks. A half-drained glass of scotch sits abandoned on the nightstand, the amber catching what little light seeps through the curtains. A book lies face-down on the side table, spine cracked, a marker shoved between the pages like he left in a hurry.
It smells like him too. Smoke. Leather. That faint cologne he wears that clings to everything and makes my chest too tight. It’s so him, I almost roll my eyes at myself for noticing.
My fingers itch when I spot the cigarette case and lighter on the nightstand next to the scotch glass. Jackpot.
I cross the room quickly, like the walls themselves might snitch on me if I linger, and snag both before I can overthink it. The lighter’s heavy, engraved with something I don’t bother to read. I don’t want to be here when he comes back.
I tuck the cigarettes and lighter into my robe pocket and cast one more glance around the room. It feels wrong standing here, like I’ve walked into the only place where he lets himself exist outside of all that armor.
Too bad for him. He should’ve locked his door.
I slip out as quietly as I came, the stolen treasures burning a hole in my pocket like contraband. Back in my room, my phone’s still charging, buzzing faintly on the nightstand with unanswered texts, but I can’t sit still.
