But nothing could’ve helped that. I was on a warpath, and I wouldn’t be deterred. I would get what I wanted… otherwise, this whole trip had been pointless.
“You’re distracting me.” His voice was gruff as he called me out. Apparently I hadn’t been discreet at all.
But fuck, he was just so gorgeous.
“I don’t want to leave you.” My voice was only a notch above a whisper. The only sign that he’d heard me, his grip tightening around the steering wheel. But he didn’t respond.
Despite being caught out, my eyes continued to drink him in, memorising the way he looked in this moment. I felt myself being dramatic, I knew I would be home soon enough but I didn’t know how much longer I could take it, being apart from him.
What was that? I sprung up, suddenly wide awake in bed after hearing a soft creak outside the bedroom door.
I’d found it hard sleeping at night lately, the Varela house alone had me on edge - the people inside of it were a whole other level of my nightmare. One that I wished I’d never stepped foot into - voluntarily at that.
“Ambrose?”
What the fuck?!
It only took a second to confirm that it was him. I reached blindly for the bedside lamp and flicked it on. My eyes blinked at the sudden brightness but quickly adjusted and took in the figure that stood at the bottom of my bed.
“You’ve ruined it.”
“What?” I grabbed at the alarm clock and swung it around, the bright red digits told me it was after three in the morning.
Why was he here? In my room, at three in the morning. If he was here to talk about what happened at dinner, then I wasn’t interested.
I squinted harder to take a long hard look at him. I must have been missing something. Like a missing piece of the jigsaw that had been knocked off the table and kicked under the couch.
And there it was. I had spotted it.
The glint of silver from the gun in his hand was too distracting to miss.
A knife of panic struck me deep, through to my very core. What the fuck was happening?
I think somewhere inside myself I know it would come to this. After only a month spent here, in this house, I knew our animosity would come to a halting … sooner or later. The moment we met, Ambrose decided he didn’t like me nor did he want me around. And he hadn’t made any effort to hide that fact, not even from our parents, even going so far as to make a point of it. Like every time he ignored me at dinner.
From what I’d seen, and heard, he had a good relationship with Rachel and Kaleb. I don’t know how, if he cared so much for them, he couldn’t at least shield them from his hatred. To control himself. But there had been none of that the whole time I’d been here. I had tried my hardest to not take his hatred personally. After all, he hadn’t known me well enough or long enough to make such a sound judgement about my personality.
It was jealousy. Which was a new, and very odd, emotion for me to process.
I knew what he wanted, what he had his eye on his entire life. Then I walked in and took it away from him. He was raised to think he would be the one to inherit the family name - the fortune, the business and the title. The golden throne.
In a twisted way, I sort of felt bad for him. I wasn’t here to steal anything from him, I only wanted answers. My time here was with purpose. It was my — no, our — parents. They were the ones that had the fancy, elaborate plan to marry their long-lost daughter off to the highest bidder. And in their eyes, this was just business. I was the smarter business decision over Ambrose. I didn’t even know if the Bellucci family had someone Ambrose could marry.
It was a decision. Not even mine and I would be taking the brunt of the punishment. It was my parents' decision that brought Ambrose into my room tonight. It was their actions that led to this very moment.
If I lived through the night, I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to forgive them.
“Ambrose, what are you doing here?” I asked calmly, feigning sleepiness, even though I was wide awake. Obviously, I knew why he was here, but I needed a way to buy myself some time.
My question backfired on me, Ambrose just raised his arm - aiming the gun right at my head. My breathing sped up as I tried to keep my eyes focused on his trigger finger. My brother may have proved to be useless at so many other things - in every sense of the word - but I’d yet to bear witness to his shooting skills. Right then, and in such close proximity, I wasn’t willing to bet against him.
He had the upper hand and he knew it. I needed a plan, and quickly.
“So, that’s it? You’re just going to kill me?” I goaded as an idea struck me.
“That’s the plan.” He shrugged like it was nothing. To him, it probably wasn’t.
“You really think that’ll fix all your problems?” The words fell from my mouth before I had a chance to think them through. I wanted to stab myself in the foot for opening my big mouth at all. Sometimes people's stupidity stumped my brain so hard that my mouth had time to sneak in and run the show. Which in any ordinary moment of time, I would’ve been able to control. Now was not one of those controlled moments.
So… I had to run with it. Honestly, running my mouth probably couldn’t have done anything to worsen the situation. Just maybe, if I was lucky enough, I’d be able to fluster him. Throw him off his
