Belongs to Him CURRENTLY EDITING (The Mafia- El Ricci # 2)

CHAPTER 11 : YOU DO NEED A BATH

Sebastian

Later that night, I find myself standing in front of Ava's apartment, holding a damn bouquet of flowers. Thanks, Mother. As if this situation wasn't already sending the wrong message, now I've got roses in my hand like some lovesick idiot.

The whole thing was bad enough already. After breakfast, I drove Ava home, and somehow, I ended up staying for another coffee. I could've made an excuse, but I didn't. Maybe because deep down, I know I need her—for now. Eventually, my parents will see for themselves that this isn't a good match, and when that day comes, I'll be free from this arrangement.

Ava is too innocent. She understands a bit about our world, but the full reality? It would break her. And yet, it would be so much easier if she were unbearable—entitled, cold, arrogant. But she's not. She's kind. Funny, even. Easy to be around.

If we had met under different circumstances, she might have been someone I grabbed drinks with, just as friends. Because that's all she could ever be—someone nice, someone casual.

Because she's not her.

My heart doesn't race when I'm with Ava. My body doesn't burn. My mind doesn't spiral. Only Olivia does that to me. She always has. Even when I was younger, when I started experiencing more, it was never special. Sex was just sex. But with Olivia? It was everything.

And yet, what happens if one day, Olivia doesn't want me? If she really meant what she said a few days ago?

No. No. She didn't mean it. It was just a moment, a phase. We always figure it out. We always do.

The door opens, and Ava steps into the doorway, dressed in a yellow mini dress that hugs her body perfectly. The color contrasts beautifully with her golden skin and blonde hair. She's gorgeous—undeniably so. The kind of woman men would fight over.

But I'm not into golden blondes with sun-kissed skin. I like dark-haired, pale-skinned, blue-eyed women. One specific woman.

"Give me five minutes, I'm almost done," she says, stepping back inside.

I follow her in and close the door behind me. "I got you flowers."

Her eyes widen slightly before she takes them, bringing them to her nose with a small, pleased smile. "Thank you," she says warmly. "I'll put them in a vase when we get back." Then she disappears down the hall, calling out, "Make yourself at home, take a drink if you want!"

I glance down at the flowers—light pink roses. I didn't choose them. If it were up to me, I would've gotten blue ones. Her favourite. I can already picture Olivia's reaction—how she'd try to mask the smile tugging at her lips, how she'd sniff them deeply before sneezing. Then she'd scowl and say, "I hate these."

But she never threw them away. She'd always put them in a vase in her bedroom.

When I asked her why, she had shrugged and said, "Because I want to see those awful flowers first thing in the morning."

That was Olivia. She hated them, but she kept them. And so I kept buying them for her.

Without thinking, I move to the kitchen, open a few cabinets until I find a vase, and fill it with water. Rolling up my blazer sleeves, I start pulling the extra leaves off, just like I'd seen Olivia do a hundred times. When I set the flowers in place, Ava reappears, brows raised in surprise.

"Oh," she says. "Thanks for putting them in a vase."

"No problem." I take a step back, glancing at them one last time before pulling my sleeves back down. Then I look at her again, taking in the soft curls in her hair and the way her green eyes shine under the warm light. "You look beautiful."