Devotion

fourteen ﾒ one bed, again

LUCA

The next day, we are in the same bed. Once again. It's like it's fated for her and me to be in bed together. I ignore the fact that we're in the same bed together because so much is going on. However, we did finish her hair.

Her hair's tangled into a lazy curly bun, and braiding hair is splayed around the bed and the floor, and I found some near her body. Without waking her, I lean over and take the hair away from her. I turn so that I face the ceiling with an arm resting on the back of my head.

Somehow, my shirt is not on, and I'm dressed in bed like I'm at my place.

A loud, deep knock is made on her bedroom door, which causes Angelica to rise from the dead, eyes wide and tired, covering her body so it doesn't look like I'm visible, or a person for that matter. She trips over some hair before unlocking her door. At first, I was hesitant; it was someone like Leilani who'd blow my cover, but, like God knew not to be on my side, Rowan was the one at her door.

Angelica and Rowan's voices are heard. I'm eavesdropping. "I made breakfast for you since you look like you were up all night." Angelica says a quick "thank you" before closing the door and locking it. A breathy, relieving sigh is made. "Gosh, a close one."

I move her pink comforter from my face to see hers. "Morning, beautiful," I joke, a smirk lifting onto my lips. "Sleep well?"

She grimaces, scoffing. "Too early to fuck around right now." Another knock is made on her door again. I lift the comforter back over my body, but then she makes a pillow barricade so that I'm not more noticeable. Angelica opens the door again, and it turns out to be none other than Rowan.

"What?" Her tired, annoyed voice booms at her twin brother. He tells her something that's out of my earshot. Rowan then makes the biggest mistake. He peeks through the door crack to see if she's hiding anything because she's acting suspicious.

His loud, heavy footsteps trailed into her bedroom and over to my side of the bed. He looks down, almost removing the comforter, only for me to feel a sharp pain in my pelvis. I want to belch out in severe pain, but I'd blow my cover.

It turned out to be Angelica. She's sitting on top of me, trying to prove I'm a pillow and not a person. Like the barricade wasn't enough proof.

I roll my eyes at the thought. "It's just a human-sized plushie, Ro. I promise, no guys here." She smacks my face repeatedly, again proving a point.

"Lonely ass," he mutters, leaving her room the way she opened it. Locked and closed. Well, at least he respects her boundaries.

I take the comforter off my face for the second time. "It's a nice seat, isn't it? A great ride." My smirk never left my face. "Even have the reviews to back up the evidence, wanna see?" She rolls her eyes, pushing her hand against my face.

"What a freak," she mumbles under her breath. Her body removes itself, sitting next to me in a cross-legged fashion. "And not in a freaky type of way, okay? Get your mind out of the gutter, Bertarelli," she says.

I chuckle, leaning up on my elbows. "I can't help it. We keep getting trapped in these situations where you and I end up in one another's bed. I'm starting to believe it's a sign of some sort. They're telling us to have sex once, and duh, it'll be over."

"Not funny." She crosses her arms. "But yes, half of what you said is true."

"So, you think I'm right?" I ask.

She pushes my face again. "Ew, no!"

I raise my hand in a surrender motion, standing up from her bedroom. "Just sayin'." I grab my shirt and slip it over my head, fixing my curls in the process. "What do you think about studying at the Elmer Holst Library later on? My schedule's not a busy one today, so we have time."

Angelica glares at me, and I want to kiss her for it. I love that little heartless glare. "I'm only saying yes because I have no choice."

"Sure, you don't, Barbie." I nod.

ﾒ

Leaning over the counter of a run-down, man-made smoke shop in East New York, I wait for my father to finish interrogating our supposed client. I couldn't care less today since I have to meet Angelica at the Elmer Holst Library.

She'd be pissed if I was late, so I have to text her.

Me: At work, I don't think we'll be done soon. Come past.

I send her the address of the makeshift smoke shop before sliding the phone into my pocket and turning around to see the live interrogation. My father, beyond pissed with a bulge of veins visible from underneath his flesh, curses at the man in Italian.

Marco Bertarelli still has it. Can't lie. The furious and ferocious beast of New York, the ultimate careless mobster of the century, was Marco Bertarelli. Raised by his father and loved by his mother. Turned to violence with his father, my grandfather, at age seven. Hasn't seen normal since. Hence the reason I'm here.

I'm considered an heir to his "throne". I attend balls dedicated to underground mobsters, host charity events, sip on champagne, charm the ladies with the Italian language, and then take one of them home.

I have no mother. She passed away when I was two years old. From what I know, my father didn't care for her. And it had something to do with the fact that she was just like him. Cut from the same thread, grew up similar, and bossed around the hungry. They were enemies, never lovers. Conceived me because they're irresponsible, and now she's dead.

I wonder sometimes that if she had been here, would everything be different? Would they have loved one another and raised me to know what the concept and idea of love are? Because I'm clueless.

Snapped out of my depressing thoughts, Angelica snaps her fingers in my face. Before my father could glimpse at her, I moved her away from the shop. My face is hard. "Don't do that shit again. You know how this works. We move in secret."

She gives me straight sass. "Look, this is a project; we're not dating, dumbo." I roll my eyes in annoyance.

We're walking down the street now. A thought races through my brain while we walk. "I have somewhere to take you—a pit stop, if you will." Angelica glares at me before sighing.

My hands wrap around her shoulder blades, leering her inwards of the sidewalk so I can walk on the outside. "Ladies on the inside at all times," I whisper in her ear, feeling a shiver.

"Where are we going?" She asks.

"You'll see."