The Curse - Book 1 (Completed)

Chapter 4: The Present

​"C'mon. You don't want to sleep alone and you know it," Ian leers at Sophia seductively.

They are lying in her bed, on silk Egyptian sheets. Her bedroom is lavishly rich, just like the rest of her house. It doesn't look like a room of a teenager, though. There are three gilded bronze sculptures of the Roman deities in her room: the goddess Diana on the left side of the door; Pluto, the god of death, on the other; and, beside her bed, Saturn.

​Sophia ignores his comment. She's too distracted by her encounter with that boy. She wonders what his name is. And how is it possible that they've found them?

​"Seriously, though, I don't get what the problem is, Soph. It's not like you're a virgin or something. We've done it before."

​She rolls her eyes. "You can be such an asshole sometimes, you know," she props herself up. "If I was a lady, I'd be offended." She walks to her closet placed opposite of the bed. It is nine feet wide, with three sliding doors and a huge mirror in the middle. She stars at it. At her reflection. The reflection so similar to the boy she encountered. She touches her jaw and runs her fingers up to her high cheekbones. She knows it was him. It had to be him. If it was only his similar looks, she couldn't have been certain. But the fact he thought she was somebody else - somebody named Victoria – means they are here. Luther must've found them.

​"And that is precisely why I love you," Ian approaches her from the back and kisses her neck, "because you don't pretend to be one."

​She slightly frowns. She almost forgot what they were talking about, "Right. Well, I'm too old for that stuff."

​Ian laughs, "Right." When he sees her expression, his eyebrows come together. "I was your first, wasn't I?"

​She lets loose of his arms and goes to the door. She puts her hand on the sculpture of Pluto.
​He lets a sigh of disgust. "I hate those things. Why do you have them, anyway? Did they come with the house?"

​"No," she says without turning. "We brought them along."

​He squints. "They like family jewels or something?"

​"You might say so."

​"You should've let your dad decorate his room with those. I usually hate those girly rooms, but I got to say, a little bit of pink wouldn't hurt here," he says as she suppresses a smile. "A bloody mausoleum is what it is," he mutters.

​"This is Pluto," she turns to look at Ian. "You want to meet?"

​He lifts an eyebrow. "I'm good, thanks."

​She curls her lips. "Feeling threatened by his family jewels?"

​"Ha-ha. I prefer this one," he points at Diana.

​"Hmm, the goddess of birth. Now isn't the time for her, though. I feel it's Pluto's turn now," she says thinking of the boy she met, "The god of death."
​He frowns. "You sound crazy when you talk like that, you know."

​"Perhaps. But since you're such an asshole, I don't think you can afford being picky," she smiles.

​"Whatever. Isn't Diana the goddess of hunt, though?"

​"Some say hunt," she nods. "Some say moon. But I prefer birth. You know, allegedly, she helped women in child-birth, because her mother Leto gave birth to her and her twin brother so easily."​

​He stares at her in silence for a few seconds. Then he speaks, gesturing with his hand, "You're doing those crazy sounds again."

​She gives him a wry smile. "Weren't you on your way out?"