Page 97 of Eyes Like Angel

Her plea, her voice—last drop of patience begged.

I begged for discovery, anything from her to appease my appetite.

“I’m…fine,” her voice was shaking.

I hated how she tried to act tough. A weary look on her face was screaming for someone to aid her or to handleRomano’s craving distraction. She could flee, but Romano might not back down regardless of what Eva resolve on.

My brows knitted in concern, still perplexed of the whole ordeal. “Are you sure? I can talk to him, if you—”

“Hey, I’ve been looking all over for you!” a high-pitched feminine voice intruded. Waved her hand up in the air, Amelia—Emily—approached me, without greeting Eva as if she doesn’t exist. “I was actually having a hard time carrying something. Would you mind helping me?”

Rotated my focus on Eva, she’s already gone in a speed of light, and left no trace.

“What are you looking at, Adrian Rivers? I hope you’re not seeing a ghost or an angel,” Emily teased, still in a high-pitched, nice girl tone, her hand reached for my bicep, slithering it light on her fingertips. “I need help with something heavy. My shoulders might break if I carry it longer.”

Eva’s tormented face flashed in my vision.

“I couldn’t. I have to—”

“Come on. Please help me,” she whined, like a newborn puppy, except grating for my sensitive eardrums.

Avoiding her touch, I marched ahead, not minding her calling out my name, wishing I could light up the cigarette, but my mom laid the rules in advance for smokers.

“Sorry, I have other stuff to do,” I told her, monotone. “Get some stuff done. Maybe you should ask Micah. He’s better at carrying heavier boxes.”

“Please!” she begged with puppy mode eyes on.

My thin brow flicked, eyeing her in suspicion.

What the fuck is wrong with her? One minute she’s cheery, the next she acted like she got killed into an accident—boo-boo getting bruised up badly.

Are girls like her really this…fragile? Or was she feigning that? It’s obvious she was. Everywhere I go or step Itake, she kept an eye on me intensely, like how a predator kept an eye on a prize—a vicious wolf eyeing on a harmless lamb. Now it felt like I’m being hunted and gutted to pieces.

Ugh, girls, knowing which spot to hit, their egos are easily getting scratched as a tool to benefit them as they please.

The minute a girl’s cries go off, it blared like an alarm system.

And they used it good as they play along.

Mom watched by the great distance, shaking her head, the tiring posture reflected from her sunglasses. And my dad, well, his unreadable expression in his gaze darted towards me, his only son, heightened the anticipation in its grasp. I couldn’t breathe; trapped and readied myself from an extension in backlash behind closed doors. Who knows what they might do next. They can be unpredictable when it benefits them, and toss them like no problem. Their conflict resolute briskly, if done right.

“Fine, after that, I have to go,” I told her in a flat tone.

“Wonderful!” Emily clapped her hands as she hopped in place, currently wearing heels.

Grunting, I paced ahead. “Where’s the stuff you want me to carry?”

Emily paced faster and shoved the box to me. In my arms, the box was lighter than a feather.

“I can’t do it in my heels. It was, uh, a spur in a moment,” she clarified, stuttering. “I-I mean, you know, cause, I’m a girl. And girls can’t carry heavy stuff. I might break my ankle.”

My eyes averted elsewhere, uninterested.

Fucking ridiculous.

Are girls like Emily this dramatic, portraying as a damsel in distress? At least Eva could carry heavier trays in a total of thirty, despite her scrawny appearance.

If only Eva was under my watch, she wouldn’t be cleaning or following my mother’s orders in order to get a source of income.