Page 11 of Destined for the Devil
"Oh. I sometimes talk in my sleep. So I've been told anyway. Sorry."
"Who told you that?" I surprised myself with my playful tone,enjoying her amused expression.
“Boyfriends."
"Mm. You have one now?" But I already knew the answer. No, she didn’t. She was single.
"Oh yeah, a loving boyfriend. That's why I'm here, in a complete stranger's home, letting him wash me and feed me and take care of me." She responded with full sarcasm. I couldn’t stop my smile, her tone giving me genuine joy.
I looked down, not wanting to show how affected I was by everything she did and said. "Not a complete stranger. You know my name."
"Uh huh. And nothing else."
I contemplated telling her some things about myself. I knew a lot about her after tonight, having received a report from my men about her sad and awful past life.
I was royally fucked.
7
Tell Me Anything
Isla
WhothehellwasRoman?I kept asking myself that question.
When he left me to shower, I closed my eyes and thought back to last night. I vividly remembered someone standing at the side of the house, definitely a man. And then it kind of all went blurry in my mind. Ithadto have been him. Why the hell was he standing there before I almost died climbing out?
Roman was a man of few words, clearly just taking pity on me. Obviously rich as fuck, he led a very different lifestyle than me. Although he was also very gentle and wanted to make sure I was okay. Ugh. He said I wasn’t his type, but why would a random stranger take care of a lonely and abandoned girl in such a kind way?
And Iwaslonely and abandoned.
Roman was rough around the edges, but when he grabbed my jaw like that and forced me to take the pain meds, I almost put his thumb in my mouth. Hmm...was I into that kinda stuff? I didn't know what kind of stuff I was into. The last two years of my life had been a monumental disaster, and carnal desires were the last thing on my mind.
And yet, when I first saw him, I was lightly reminded of how good sex felt.How a man feels.My last boyfriend, actually myonlyboyfriend, broke up with me two years ago. Or maybe I broke up with him; it was hard to tell. It was all too painful; I tried to block it out. We were deeply in love, but it wasn’t working out between us; we both knew it had toend. That didn't make the breakup any less painful, though.
But then my life turned upside down after that breakup. I didn't even get a chance to move on when my older brother was diagnosed with an aggressive cancer a few weeks later. My parents and I spent all our free time and attention on him. I was finishing my second year of med school and literally drowning with studies, and my brother was in the ICU while my parents and I took turns to be with him.
Slowly, everything became worse. My brother was fading as the months dragged on, and there was nothing the doctors could do. It was just too invasive, too all-consuming. We saw him transform in his hospital bed until he became unconscious.
I was in year three of med school, and it was March. I had been studying in the library when I got the call. My parents were driving over to the hospital when their car was involved in a forty-car pile-up on the highway. Many people died that day, including them. I saw their car after, and there was nothing left of it; it just looked like a pancake.
I buried my parents, alone. They were both only children, and my grandparents had all passed away before I reached the age of fourteen.
I wondered if it was possible to die of heartbreak. My family was warm, kind, and loving, and inonesecond, it all shattered. We were inseparable. We loved and supported one another. But at their funeral, I stared at the fresh mounds of earth and knew that it was all broken.
Two weeks later, my brother took his last breath in his hospital bed. At the cemetery once more, I buried him with our parents, their graves still fresh. I was left alone.Completelyalone, I had no one to rely on. I stood at the graves of the three people closest to me and wondered what on earth I did to deserve this? Did I do something awful to someone to get this kind of punishment?
I had always been a good person. A good girl. I was honest, kind, and respectful—there was no way to justify this fate. And there was also noway to stay in university after everything that happened. So I dropped out. Dropped out of med school—a program that I worked incredibly hard to get into. Not only was I left with no money and almost a two-year probate, but I physically couldn't get out of bed.
School, house bills, staying alive—it all became too overwhelming. I was kicked out of our house when I found out that it was under one of my father’s companies’ names—the sale was forced by the bank. All the other company assets were repossessed and sold off.
No house, no money, I stayed with a friend and found a job at a medical office. I deferred my spot at university until I could come back. That was a pipe dream, but I didn’t want to let it go.
Almost a year and a half later, probate was almost done, but I decided to just leave it all behind and move literally across the country. And how did Los Angeles welcome me? By burning down my apartment and the little possessions I had into raging flames.
To be honest, I was desensitized to it all at this point. It took me a long time to land that apartment. It was cheap as hell, and I pleaded with the landlord, explaining my circumstances. No one wanted to rent to me without a local job.
And now, literally four days after I arrived in L.A., I was half alive, living in a stranger's home. I could only try to take this situation at face value. What else could go wrong? He was a mafia boss or a serial killer? Neither one would have surprised me at this point.
