"ꜰᴜᴄᴋ ᴍᴇ ʀᴀᴜʟ" ɪ ᴡʜɪꜱᴘᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ᴀᴛ ʜɪᴍ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴍʏ ʟᴀꜱʜᴇꜱ.
Angel's life has been quite a roller coaster ride since she graduated with an exceptional degree from one of the finest schools in her hometown.
Securing employment proved to be ch...
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We managed to shoot about four scenes today, and to my utmost disappointment, Raul didn't appear in a single one.
I checked the time—half past eleven. Shit. How the hell am I getting home now?
Dragging my aching body out of the studio, I took out my phone and hovered my thumb over Luca's contact. But I paused. He's probably fast asleep by now—he has class early tomorrow, and I refuse to be that sister.
I headed to the lobby, pacing slowly while the rest of the crew hurried off to the parking lot, chatting, laughing, driving away with people they trusted. Everyone had someone. Except me.
Roselyn. Danielle. Hunter. Raul. All gone.
I wasn't close enough to anyone else to ask for a ride without sounding desperate.
So, I made a decision that now feels too stupid to have been brave—I'd walk home. Alone. In the middle of the night. Because that's how fairytales begin, right?
The night air cut through my thin jacket, making me wrap my arms around myself.
My heels clicked on the pavement, echoing against the silent street as the lights from the studio faded behind me.
Then...
A sudden screech.
My heart nearly stopped. A white Mercedes Benz glided up beside me, the headlights spilling over the deserted road, blinding. I took a cautious step back.
The windows were tinted—dark, unreadable. And then, slowly, the driver's window rolled down.
My breath caught.
Raul D'Amano.
Even in the shadows, I could see the sharp cut of his jaw, the relaxed dominance in his posture like he ruled every inch of the city—including me.
"Get in," he ordered, voice low, casual, like this wasn't completely throwing my heart into chaos.
"I... Mr. D'Amano, I—"
His piercing blue eyes sliced through me, silencing whatever weak excuse I was about to make. I nodded, swallowing my pride, my fear, my desire, and slipped into the car.
The silence was brutal. Heavy. I kept my eyes on the road, hands clenched in my lap like they were trying to behave. I couldn't take it anymore.
"Mr. D'Amano," I called, barely louder than a whisper. He didn't respond, but something told me he was listening. "About earlier... I wanted to apologize—"
The car stopped.
Before I could understand what was happening, he reached over and pulled me, roughly into his chest. His scent enveloped me. Spiced. Clean. Dangerous.
I froze, lips parted, my body betraying me with how quickly it melted into his.
"Don't apologize," he murmured, voice like velvet laced with steel.
