The Shade's Of You. | ✓

12

Sophia.

Lily had always been my bestfriend for years and years as you most probably know already but my god, I've never laughed so hard and much like this with her or with anyone of my other friends.

My stomach hurts so much that my hands are barely clutching onto it to ease the pain and my eyes have tears falling and rolling down my face. I probably look like a clown right now but I honestly couldn't care a damn about that when everything hurts from laughing too much.

“You are crazy.” I finally wheeze out, barely able to breath.

King moves away from me, a smug and very proud smirk on his face. “Definitely.” He says as if he did not just tell me a lame joke that had us both cracking up.

It takes us minutes to finally calm down, no heavy breathing and no rapid heart racing. Everything is cool and comfortable for a long moment until I decide to ask something serious, a question that's been sitting on my mind for a long while now— until now.

“King, can I ask you something?” I chew on my bottom lip, looking at him expectingly and he nods his head and his eyebrow rises, urging me to continue. “I remember you saying that your mother was Italian and that your father is not well. I was wondering, why did you speak past tense with your mum?” I question and watch him.

His posture goes tense and his facial expression hardens.

If someone were to look at him right now they would question if this man ever smiled or laughed a day in his life, they definitely would not believe that that's what he had been doing this entire morning, with me.

He has his walls all up again and his guarded. I almost curse myself for ruining our moment but I was curious.

A sigh leaves my mouth and I stand up, gathering our dishes and cups from earlier, I don't expect him to answer and that's okay because the pain that flashes through his eyes before his walls came rising up is something familiar, so familiar that on some nights that very pain haunts my dreams and on some days it haunts my reality too.

Images of a drunk man in a business suit running towards me with a leather belt in his hands, start to slam into my mind and I wince as the haunting screaming of pain starts, from my mother and from myself.

Now cold hands underneath the cold water starts to shake making me drop the half soap covered plate back into the sink, scared that my hands my crash it against this floor.

My breathing gets heavier just in time as arms slide around me, softly pulling me towards a chest and my body starts to relax at the familiar calming touch of his.

His grip around me tightens and his chin rest on my head, my messy hair probably tickling him but he doesn't show it as we watch the beautiful island and it's ocean from the kitchen window, both of us breathing out a sigh of content.

“Mia madre—”

“King, you don't have to tell me. I—”

He cuts me off and I feel him shift, his lips graze down to my temple and he leaves a soft kiss then continues downwards towards my ear. I shudder at his breath fanning against my hot skin and I swear I feel his lips lift in smirk against me, at the effect he has on me.

“Shh,” He whispers into my ear before his mouth latches onto my earlobe, gently sucking on it.

My hands on the edge of the sink tighten their hold and my eyes widen, something along the lines of a gasp and strange moan leaves my parted lips.

His mouth leaves my now red ear and he chuckles. “Amante, are you going to disturb me now?” I shake my head no and he mumbles a good, getting back into his previous position with his arms firm around me and his chin on my head, allowing his scent to engulf me.

“Mia madre—”

“English, please.”

“What did I say, A—”

“Sorry, I forgot. I won't disturb you again.”

“O—”

“You can continue, King.”

“Sophia!”

He groans my name in exasperation and I smug proudly to myself, my smirk proud and wide at how fast and easy it is to annoy the hot tattooed man.

King sighs, the air hitting my forehead gently, and he waits a while before speaking again, just incase I have something to say, which obviously I don't but my smugness doesn't leave until I feel a blow at my ass.

I gasp in shock, when did he even remove his hand? When you were smiling like a clown just now. My subconscious jabs at me and I internally scoff, shushing in myself.

“Serenella, It means the sky.— that's what she would always say anyway.” He stops and I think his smiling at the memory of her telling him that. “I thought it meant serene but only because she was peaceful and kind. I was young then, maybe twelve or something.” He chuckles.

I smile, trying my hardest to picture him as a young child running around in the garden with his mother, no tattoos, no scary demeanor, just done little innocent kid.

“My dad is a business man, one of the best ones I know. But his family comes first, everyone knew that and that mum was the apple of his eyes. His enemies were quick to learn it as well. . . I was eighteen when she got shot dead and when dad went into a panic, resulting in coma. I've been in charge since then.” He says, shrugging his shoulders as if it isn't a big thing but it is.

I turn around in his hold and my arms go around his torso, pulling him closer while I push my head into his chest.

“Thank you for telling me that.” I mumble into his chest.

He chuckles, his chest rumbling at the sound but there is no emotion in it. It's forced and hallow, so so fake that it hurts me that this is his reaction after telling me something so private and personal about him.

I want to hug him tighter, so tight that it calms and soothes him, watching away all his problems and I want to tell him that it's okay, it's okay to cry and it's okay to break down because sometimes that's all we would ever need but I don't do it. Instead I latch onto him and tell him about stories of my youth, about how I fell down a hill and how I scored a hundred in my math test in high school.

Never once do I tell him about my father.

Even when he tells me proud stories of his.

My father is dead and it shall stay that way.