Attraction, desire, and sinfully beautiful, Mika Santana is a devil with the face of an angel. Despite her tragic past, she's never given up her ruthless pursuits for success and vengeance which leaves little to no room for matters of the heart. But...
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Hearts are like a piece of string, yarn, and fabric.
It's the start of a foundation. Essentially, without the heart, the remaining organs are left to fend for themselves. Nothing functions without the first building block. Along with the brain, there is network system for our body and send alerts to the rest of our organs. It's why the term 'using my head or my heart' is used by every generation.
Before tonight, I've always followed my head and went along with the rules God has established. Temptation comes in many forms. Mine just so happens to be in the shape of Mika, but I've always tried to keep a level head.
My heart fights to take reign, bend my mind to its will, but they bump against one another like bumper cars. Both are tempting. Both have their pros and cons. For the betterment of my relationship with God and my own sanity, I've fought over every single impulse I'd to completely fall into Mika's hand.
But I'm done.
My abstinence used to be something so important, so worthy, so vital, but I'm willing to throw everything away for Mika. Knots form a tidal wave in my stomach from the sheer anxiety inches from exploding.
It could be the most idiotic mistake I'll ever make in my lifetime, but love involves taking chances. Mika might be playing me like a fiddle, but I'll follow the tune to her song if all it means I can keep her for a bit longer. Taking a bite of the Mika apple is making me desperate.
My car has been racing circles around Diablo's Paraiso, the asphalt brewing like soup underneath my tears. The second my familia collected our products from our enemy, I push the gear to drive and came all the way here. It was an impulse, second nature, a calling. It's easy to question my actions, but I am tired of overthinking every single thing I do. Fuck that.
A bursting egg-yolk blends with the baby blue sky like a watercolor painting. White faint clouds spread like trees, branching around the sky and interconnecting with each other.
An imaginary claw grips my heart, tightening its hold to squeeze out every ounce of blood. The way Diablo's lottery system worked is pretty fucked up. Being the most enticing Angele alerts all the men or women to bid the highest wages to obtain the grand prize. Mika's bids aren't baby numbers.
They're what a normal American makes in fifty years. To me, it's nothing— a means to an end. However, betting on a V.I.P Angele is only valid for two hours a session, then it's back to the drawing board. Meaning after winning my first bid, Mika was back up for grabs to the other hungry, salivating, sickening clients.
My occupation interferes with my personal interest.
My job is the reason Mika could be in someone else's bed.
The car nearly skids across the black asphalt when a familiar figure exits the front door. She rips the hair tie from her head, causing her black curls to cascade down her back like water down a stream.
