Old man.
Fuck him. There’s nothing old about me. I’m in my fucking prime. A flash of caramel eyes blazes through my mind, taking up space where it doesn’t belong, and I force it out. Vanessa makes me feel years younger than I have in a long time, but I could never admit that to her. It would feel too much like admitting a huge defeat.
twelve
Walking back to the apartment,I brace myself for disappointment. I appreciate what Vanessa is trying to do, but this isn’t Italy. Surprisingly, I don’t feel the need to be cruel or overly critical of her, so I’ll try my best to shut up and be grateful someone is trying to do something nice for me on my birthday for the first time in many years.
Ascending the stairs, the faint smell of espresso fills the air, and I breathe it in. It’s one of my favorite scents in the world. That mixture of coffee, cinnamon, and vanilla has become a fixture in my space lately, and I’ve come to crave it. It’s purely Vanessa, and I don’t know what I’ll do when she’s not here anymore, taking up space in my mind and on my couch. I open the front door just as she bends over to slide the dish into the refrigerator. The flare of her hips, her thick thighs, her perfectly tanned skin, her presence disrupts the order of my world. Her movements are steady, nothing feels rushed or accidental. I keep my distance because if I ever crossed that line, there would be nothing left of her. My darkness would consume every ounce of light she possesses.
“It should be ready in about an hour or so.” She gives me a soft smile, and I feel another small piece of my resolve crumble. She’s so fucking beautiful, so sweet it hurts. Her kindness pisses me off more than I care to admit.
“Smells good.” I reply tersely, wishing I could ignore every ounce of emotion stirring inside me for her.
“Everything okay with your work?” She asks, the small talk killing us both.
“Fine. I’ll be taking a trip soon. I’m not sure how long I’ll be away. We should probably discuss what you intend on doing while I’m gone.” I take a seat at the bar, watching her move around the small kitchen, cleaning the few dishes she used. She hesitates when I say I’m leaving, trepidation flashing through her eyes.
“Oh. Okay. That’s no problem, I’ll make sure Doug and I are out by the time you have to leave.” She wipes her hands on a kitchen towel, shrinking uncomfortably. Any other day, I would love to see her so uneasy. But something feels like its shifted between us. Her willingness to do something nice for me speaks volumes about the way she feels. She hasn’t seen her ghost of a masked man since she came to stay here with me. Leaving her alone and defenseless again feels like a knife in my fucking eye.
“You can stay. If you want to, you and Doug can stay here.” The words leave my mouth before I even think about what I’m saying. Letting her stay alone in my personal space? What the fuck am I doing? But her eyes light up hopefully, and I know I’ve made the right decision.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.” She chews on her bottom lip, and I can’t look at her anymore.
“You’ve intruded more times than I care to think about, Vanessa. I think we’ve passed the point of propriety.” A blush creeps up her neck, and I smirk.
“Why don’t you like to celebrate your birthday?” She asks, rapidly changing the subject.
“Don’t really see the point, I guess. It’s just a day.” I reply, rolling up the sleeves of my dress shirt. Her eyes track my movements, widening slightly as they slide across the ink there.
“Your parents didn’t celebrate your birthdays? Or your other family?” She leans across the bar in front of me, pushing her tits together in a way that feels completely intentional.
“My parents weren’t the celebratory type. We had far more important responsibilities to uphold. And Fortuna has bigger priorities.” I tell her without thinking.
“Fortuna?” She asks, quirking a brow back at me.
“Just my family. They’re responsible for much bigger endeavors than something as insignificant as a birthday. Keeping the business protected, keeping the family on top, those are the only things I was ever taught to prioritize. Everything else was frivolous. But I don’t dwell on it. I understand it’s just the reality of my life. When you’re raised in the world I was, you’re no stranger to obligations.” I give her as little information as I can, not wanting to give her the ability to draw any conclusions that could put her safety at risk.
“I get that. But I gotta say…fuck that. That sounds like total bullshit! My parents were never ones to celebrate birthdays either. Well, not unless it was for their sweet angel baby boy. But their excuse was that they were too strung out to remember what year it was, let alone the date. My sister and I celebrated each other as best we could. Everyone deserves to feel special, even if it’s just once a year, Seb. Even you. And yes, it physically hurts me to say those words to you, because heaven knows you don’t need anyone telling you how fucking special you are. But I mean it. I think you take life a little too seriously sometimes. Take time to stop and smell the damn daisies every once in a while, Sebastian. Otherwise, you’ll get frown lines and wrinkleson that beautiful face, and that would be an absolute tragedy.” She smirks, truth and sarcasm weighing in equal parts in her words.
“Oh, you think I’m beautiful, huh?” I taunt, and she rolls her eyes.
“No, I think you’re a fucking menace.” She flattens her palms on the counter, straightening her back.
“Thank you, that’s the nicest thing I think you’ve ever said to me.” I try my best to suppress my grin, but it’s difficult. Vanessa’s devilish tongue is surprisingly entertaining. “By the way, I think the expression is stop and smell theroses.I’ve never heard anyone say stop and smell the daisies in my life. Daisies are fucking weeds, Vanessa.”
“Maybe you’re right, but I don’t really give a shit. I hate roses.” She shrugs, checking the time with a smile. “Look at that. All of your yapping soaked up an entire hour. We can check the cake!”
“It’s not cake!” My tone is abrasive. Tiramisu is not a fucking cake.
She pulls the dish out of the fridge, reaching into the drawer for two forks before setting it down on the island between us. Apparently, we’re going to eat it straight out of the pan like savages.
“No plates?” I ask, taking the fork she offers me.
“Do I look like Cinderella? I’m not the dish bitch around here. I don’t see the point in creating more mess, especially since I already cleaned up.” She shrugs me off, gesturing for me to take the first bite. “Birthday boys first.”
“I am most definitely not a boy, Vanessa.” I tell her, sinking my fork into the spongy dish. Bringing the fork to my lips, I pause. “Don’t read into what I’m about to say, okay?”
“Okay?” she says, confused.
