Corazón

⁰⁰³ : 𝙹𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚆𝚊𝚒𝚝 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚆𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑

Below the surface it was built without purpose. "Did we deserve this?" She asks but they reply, "You're here to serve."

Daddy, please.

We all scream for ice cream.

"This machine will help her with the brain freeze." They toyed with her like a weightless ragdoll.

The stage lights up with controlled shocks.

So, tighten up all your spring locks.

Through the vent.

Keeping your composure, hold your breath as something's creeping closer.

-JL

...

☘ ꜱᴜᴢᴇᴛᴛᴇ ᴅᴇꜱʀᴏꜱɪᴇʀꜱ ☘

I caught wind of someone approaching for a matter tied directly to me while I was in the midst of my hair’s blow-dry session, having just enjoyed a rejuvenating spa treatment. Thankfully, I hadn’t dozed off for more than an hour.

Now, I’m perched on Handsome’s desk, savoring a cup of peppermint tea he handed me, adjusting my rose gold velvet lace nightgown that reaches mid-thigh. The rich fabric feels luxurious against my skin.

Handsome, conversing in Russian with a hint of controlled irritation, is lost in his phone call. Though I don’t understand the conversation, I let my feet dangle from the desk and swing them idly. His ringed fingers, echoing my own boredom, absentmindedly play with my brunette strands, twisting them around in a distracted manner.

The tea leaves a cooling, invigorating mint flavor, which I finish quickly. I slide the empty cup towards him, and he casts it a brief glance before pushing it away on the desk. I was about to hop down and explore the sprawling mansion, but Handsome ends his call just then.

I cross my legs and squint at the frustration still etched on his brow. With a playful poke to his cheekbone, I attempt to redirect his attention. His frown, a dissonant note on his otherwise composed face, bothers me.

Instead of responding to my teasing, he grips my hand and places it flat on the desk before resting his head on my palm, using it as a pillow. His touch is oddly comforting, though it causes a slight itch. His expression, clouded with anger, prompts me to brush the errant strands of hair falling over his forehead.

As Handsome opens his eyes, the sound of approaching footsteps catches my attention. Turning to my left, I see him—dressed in all black as if he had just come from a meeting. He had been in Spain and Italy when I last visited him in Russia two years ago.

A smile spreads across my lips as I take in his presence. "I missed you." I embrace him with my free hand, and Handsome, still holding on, reciprocates the gesture. He caresses my hair before turning his gaze to his son, who, despite the tension in the room, remains nonchalant and somewhat detached, adjusting his posture and idly playing with my fingers.

"Handsome." I emphasize the name as he looks up at me, momentarily ignoring his father. I slip my hand from his grip and raise my eyebrows with a seriousness that prompts Handsome to sigh in resignation. He then rises to hug his father, giving me a cheeky wink, which I acknowledge with a small, restrained smile.