𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐄𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬
Emilia, a mixture of Enzo and Elianna. She isn't afraid of anyone and is a headstrong force to be reckoned with. For most of her life, Emilia had only had two goals in mind: attaining her degree and finding...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Emilia's POV
Point #2 on why Santo Valentino is the subject of my thesis:
He is not who pretends to be.
On the outside, he acts like this cold, merciless person but on the inside, he cares. He cares if the woman that he despises has eaten, he cares that she is not by herself, and he cares if she is hurt.
"That will be all for today. Have a good day, class," Professor Kate said as she ended the call.
I immediately closed my laptop and pulled off my shirt.
The pool had been calling my name for the whole morning, but I had to attend my three-hour psychology lecture.
A smile grew on my face when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
I loved the bathing suit I was wearing. It was a pink bikini my bodyguard had secretly gifted me when I turned 19.
I sometimes missed Anthony. We were the same age and enjoyed doing the same things. We were perfect for each other.
What if he was my forever?
Would we be married now if my father hadn't made him disappear?
When I opened the bedroom door, Santo was fast asleep on the couch.
I frowned. He must have gone drinking last night again.
As I got into the pool, I let out a breath. The water was warm and the sun was shining directly on me.
I pinched the tip of my nose before submerging myself in the water.
Apart from the water brushing against my skin, it was quiet. It was me against the world.
I emerged to the surface when I felt I needed air.
After sucking in a fat load of air, the first thing I thought about was him.
I was angry.
The way how he affected me with his simple touch and had the audacity to act like nothing happened pissed me off.
Last night was a disaster for me.
I tried to sleep but my mind kept going back to when he wrapped his monstrously large hands around my waist earlier.
To make things worse, when I finally thought I'd gotten over it, I remembered our kiss when we played Never Have I Ever.
Why'd he have to kiss me before quitting the game? He could've ended the game anytime, yet he kissed me before he did.
"Stupid Santo," I cursed as I tried to forget about him by swimming.
If there were two things I knew that I was pretty darn good at, they would be swimming and shooting.
