There is nothing more beautiful than watching an innocent angel fall apart at my sinful actions. I'm going to ruin her.
"Augustine."
And she comes, looking down at me as she does so.
She glows, lighting up the goddamn room. Her feet barely touch t...
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"I think I've gained weight since the last time I wore this," I mumble, holding my breath as Eros attempts to zip up my long dress. It cinches at my waist, then flows out in pretty waves. It's black and considerably modest for a dress of its type.
"Damn," I squeeze out, bracing myself on the wall as Eros yanks the zipper up. "I need to lay off the pasta, Eros."
He freezes, turning me to face him. "Enough."
I narrow my eyes, wanting to tell him to shut up, but I know that won't go over well.
This morning, I had to practically drag Emilio out of the house to go get his medication. I told him he had to text me every time he took the scheduled prescription, so I knew he was staying on it like he should.
I worked a shift at Lorenzo's, then came home to Eros sipping whiskey on the couch. If that didn't explain how he felt about the night ahead of us, then I don't know what does.
My body is physically aching due to the stress I've been under this week, and I am honestly glad that I don't have to worry about Emilio finding out any more secrets. I don't think I can handle another meltdown episode.
I pinned the front of my hair back with a delicate ribbon, tying it in a bow and pulling out the loose pieces. My red lipstick adds some color, and it matches the heels that Eros had put in the closet when I moved in.
He grabs my waist, dipping his head down into the crook of my neck. I watch him kiss my skin in the mirror, feeling like I'm looking at someone who isn't me. This isn't happening to me right now, and I'm not the girl in this fancy dress or these expensive shoes.
I slip my hand into his, admiring his tattoos that show beneath his suit. He looks so handsome in nice clothes, I almost want to ask him to wear them more often.
"Quinton is going as well?" I asked, remembering that I saw him walking around the house in a suit as well.
Eros nodded, checking his fancy watch before pulling me with him as we exit the room.
I try to keep up, but it's harder to walk in these heels. They make me at least three inches taller, and they definitely don't assist my ability to balance.
Eros grabs his cigar off the side table of the couch, putting it between his lips as we head outside and into the car.
Quinton is driving, and we're sitting in the back seat. Eros suggested it would be less stressful for him, and I agreed, knowing this wasn't the most ideal event to be appearing at tonight.
The second we get settled, he lights the cigar and opens the sunroof, letting in the cool summer air.
I go to buckle my seat belt, but Eros's hand comes around my waist and yanks me closer to him, putting me in the middle seat instead of the left one.
I adjust my dress, angling my body against his and clicking my seatbelt into place.
I ignore the smell of his cigar as I lay my head on his arm, finding myself becoming more and more exhausted.
