Varya took out a handkerchief and gently wiped the lingering droplets of water from Roger’s face before lowering her hand.
"You should go ho," she advised, her gaze flickering to his half-drenched shirt beneath the coat. "It’s cold, and walking around like this will only make you sick."
Roger, however, shook his head. "I’ll drop you at your hotel first."
"No," Varya refused firmly. "I’ll book a cab. Don’t worry about ."
Roger exhaled, reluctant to leave her alone, but he knew better than to argue with her when she had made up her mind.
A brief silence followed before Varya fully turned to him, with her arms crossed. "Is sothing going on between you and Sylvia?"
Roger’s expression darkened slightly, but he shook his head. "Nothing is going on," he replied simply. "She just... likes to do that."
Varya scoffed. "Are you a masochist or sothing?" she questioned, a slight frown appearing on her forehead. "You need to tell Sylvia to stop calling you that. A servant?" She let out an amused chuckle. "I can’t believe Matteo has such a shaless and violent sister."
Roger hesitated, biting his bottom lip as he mulled over his words. "Matteo saved from hell," he admitted. "So, I used to do a few things for him. Picking up Sylvia from school, even college... I got used to it."
Varya studied him, her amusent fading into sothing softer. "Used to it or not, that doesn’t an she gets to humiliate you," she pointed out. "You don’t owe her anything."
Roger humd. In the back of his mind, he thought, ’I didn’t want Varya to see like this.’
"I want Sylvia’s number," Varya said.
Roger gazed at her with a shocking gaze. "I think you don’t need to see her. I an... It’s pointless to even et her. Boss and everyone around her tried empathizing with her. But it was futile. Sylvia has a bitter tongue, so it’s better for you to stay away from her," he asserted.
"Give her number, Roger or I’ll ask Lucius," Varya said, taking out her own phone.
Roger exhaled heavily, rubbing the back of his neck before taking out his phone. He hesitated for a second but eventually read out Sylvia’s number.
As Varya saved it, Roger gave her a cautious look. "If Sylvia says anything odd, you need to—"
"I’ll handle it," Varya interrupted, smirking slightly. "Do you think I haven’t dealt with brats like her before?"
Roger sighed. "It’s not that... I just don’t want you to get hurt." His voice held a rare softness, a genuine concern that made Varya pause for a mont.
She smiled and reached out, gently patting the back of his hand. "I won’t be hurt. But you need to stop letting her look down on you," she told him firmly. "Whatever Matteo did for you has nothing to do with his sister. Matteo must have treated you as a friend."
Roger’s lips parted slightly, as if about to argue, but then he closed them.
She pulled her hand back and stood up from the bench. Roger, however, remained seated for a mont, simply looking at her with gratitude.
"Thank you," he whispered.
Varya t his gaze and gave him a slight nod. "Go ho, Roger."
Instead of responding, Roger stood up and, without thinking, reached for her hand. He then led her toward the parking lot.
"Roger—"
"Just let drop you off," he cut in, not giving her a chance to argue.
Varya sighed but didn’t resist as he opened the passenger door for her. Once she was seated, Roger got behind the wheel and drove off toward the hotel.
~~~~
Roderick and Ivy had a few drinks together after their dinner. While Ivy was drowned in her own sorrows, Roderick had his share of worries.
Sitting next to each other on the fluffy rug, they looked at the city lights from floor-to-ceiling window before them.
Ivy reached for another bottle, but Roderick swiftly intercepted, his fingers wrapping around the glass before she could take another sip. "You’ve had enough," he said gently.
Ivy blinked at him, her flushed cheeks betraying the effects of the alcohol. She huffed with a slight pout.
Roderick watched her, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I used to think you were untouchable," he mused. "Like the idol of perfection—always in control, never shaken by anything."
Ivy scoffed lightly, her gaze drifting to the city lights once more. "Everyone is imperfect, Roderick," she murmured. "We just learn to hide it well."
Sothing about her tone made Roderick’s smile fade.
Roderick frowned, watching the way Ivy’s fingers traced the rim of her empty glass. The dim city lights reflected in her eyes, but they couldn’t mask the sorrow beneath them.
"What do you an?" he asked, confused. "I already ordered the drinks you wanted. You said you wanted to get drunk tonight."
Ivy let out a dry chuckle, shaking her head. "But my mind won’t stop thinking about him," she admitted, her voice laced with sadness.
Roderick felt a pang of sothing unfamiliar—was it sympathy? Frustration? He wasn’t sure. He had always known Ivy as a composed and independent woman, but tonight, she looked fragile, and so lost.
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling. "Alcohol doesn’t erase mories, Ivy," he said quietly. "It just numbs them for a while."
"Then numb ," she whispered, turning to him. Her gaze was heavy, searching. "Make forget, even if it’s just for tonight."
Roderick stiffened. He wasn’t sure if she was asking for comfort or an escape, but either way, sothing told him that this mont would change everything.
"What do you want to do?" Roderick asked.
Ivy shifted closer to him, her breath fanned against his chin and she placed her hand on his cheek. As her eyes darted on his lips, she said, "What about a kiss?"
"It’s a terrible idea. You are going to hate in the morning," Roderick stated.
"Since when a Playboy started thinking like that?" Ivy questioned him and t his gaze.
"I was a playboy," Roderick corrected her.
"It’s sa for . Just kiss once," Ivy said.
Reviews
All reviews (0)