𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞
The billionaires daughter's dreams and fantasies of marrying for love crushed within a second as she finds herself helping her family and marrying for convenience. Helping her arranged husband get back with his ex, wasnt so...
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TiO - ZAYN (forcing you to listen to it while reading, just this once. it's worth it.)
also a slight warning of rape and abuse. skip if you don't feel comfortable.
I feel the motion of someone carrying me in their arms. I open my eyes, to see the driveway of our mansion. My eyesight groggy, not being able to figure out who's carrying me.
I smell a familiar scent...Alessio? Lifting my head from the rock hard support that let me lean my head on it, I look up to see an angry Alessio looking down at me.
Both of my arms are wrapped around his neck, his left arm supporting my lower back, making his right arm support the back of my calves. I see his right arm holding, my heels.
What the fuck happened.
I try to trace back my memories, to recall at least one thing that happened. Nothing. Blank. I'm genuinely drawing blanks.
Alessio slowly puts me down at our doorstep, making me instantly dizzy falling right back in his arms. His arms are quick to wrap around my waist, saving me from my small fall. Our faces are inches away, our noses basically touching.
I'm the first one to break apart, my brain isn't processing anything that's happening right now. I don't remember being this drunk.
I don't bother asking any questions at the moment, making a mental note to do it later.
I head upstairs, while Alessio goes into the kitchen. Reaching our room, I feel a bit better. I feel more steady on my feet, which is a good sign. I head to the bathroom, and change my clothes into my silk pyjamas from the previous night.
Pulling out my makeup wipes from my drawer, I try to wipe my makeup off, but I have no energy left in me. I hear footsteps ascend into the room, knowing it's Alessio. I don't bother looking.
I try to wipe my mascara off but my hands are shaking. After a few minutes of countless failed attempts, I give up.
I hear footsteps, coming near me. Before I know it, Alessio is standing in front of me—blocking the view of my reflection in the mirror.
"Sit on the sink." He says with his voice strained, snatching the wipes from my hands.
"No. I'm okay, I got it." My voice slurs, indicating that I'm very much not okay.
He doesn't even try to argue before he hoists me up on the sink counter. His hands wrap around my waist, the cold rings on his fingers leaving shivers down my body. Spreading my legs slowly, he stands in between my legs—giving him full access to me.
