Dark Romance: A Cruel Obsession

“You previously called him a monster,” Vivian couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

“Don’t roll your eyes, it’s not ladylike,” Vilem apologized to Alajos, “I am sorry for my earlier rashness.”

Alajos looked at him indifferently, “Should I say it’s okay?”

Vilem smiled and turned to Vivian, “Vivian, good girl, you will be fine, at least Alajos won’t bully you.”

Vivian bit the corner of her mouth, tears threatening to fall again, but Vilem wiped them away in time, “Just listen to me, go home and get some good sleep, dress up beautifully tomorrow, and embrace your new life.”

“I’m worried about you, I want to stay with you.”

Vilem felt a bit troubled, he looked at Alajos, who did not object.

“Alright then,” Vilem moved over to make room on his half of the bed, “Will this do?”

In fact, Vivian was very tired. Tonight’s raid by the Bratva had been a huge shock to her; nerves that had been tightly wound in danger and tension now relaxed in the safety of the hospital ward, nestled beside her brother. Once her nerves relaxed, fatigue swept over her.

Vivian obediently climbed into bed, lying on her side next to Vilem, her eyelids heavy with sleepiness.

“Go to sleep,” Alajos turned off the light, plunging the ward into darkness, with only the faint light from the window allowing for the outlines of objects to be discerned.

Vilem patted his sister and whispered softly, “Sleep, I’m right here.”

Vivian nodded in the dark, perhaps unseen by Alajos and Vilem, but she felt reassured in the rhythmic beating of Vilem’s heart and gradually fell asleep.

Alajos lay on the long sofa in the ward, which was a bit too short for him, but he didn’t need sleep. In such an unfamiliar environment, and after a fierce battle, he was doomed to a sleepless night.

Alajos’s vision was excellent; he and Vilem locked eyes in the dark.

As Vivian’s breathing became steady, Alajos made sure she was asleep, then closed his eyes, his hand alertly resting on his gun.

“Alajos,” Vilem suddenly spoke up.

“Thank you for today.” He kept his voice very low, probably to avoid waking Vivian, “Vivian is not just a sister to me, she is the most important person in my life. She has always relied on me, I’ve been with her for nineteen years, but I won’t be able to accompany her anymore. She will become your wife.”

Alajos opened his eyes in the dark, his brown eyes shaded with the color of the night, the moonlight filtering through the window curtains and reflecting in his eyes like the cold light on the back of a blade.

Vilem seemed not to notice Alajos’s dangerous gaze and continued, “Please be kind to her, do not hurt her.”

“You should teach your sister to grow up, not to be filled with childish notions of love,” Alajos replied coldly, “as long as she becomes mature, she will not be hurt by me.”

Vilem frowned, “A little softness in your attitude, and she won’t be hurt.”Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

“Enough,” Alajos growled, “I brought her to visit you, not to get lectured on how to handle things. Vilem, you should be thankful that the wedding is tomorrow, I don’t want the bride’s brother to die on the eve of the wedding, otherwise you would be a dead man right now.”

Vilem clenched his teeth in anger, glaring at him. Vivian stirred in his arms, and he suddenly came to his senses, gently patting her back and swallowing all his anger.

Alajos touched his gun and closed his eyes indifferently.

…

Vivian woke up groggily; it was already light outside. She started, “What time is it?”

Alajos sat on the sofa, lifted his wrist to check his watch, “Nine o’clock.”

Vivian moaned in distress, “We should go back.” Although this wedding was not what she had hoped for, she did not wish to be late in front of so many people.

Vivian climbed out of bed; Vilem was still deep in sleep, undisturbed by her movement.

“Indeed, we should go,” Alajos stood up waiting for her, “No need for goodbyes, we’ll see each other again soon. Let’s go, I’ll take you back to the apartment.”

That made sense. Vivian bent down and kissed Vilem’s face, “Have a good dream.”

Vivian put on her shoes, grabbed her coat, “I wonder if Luzia is awake yet, she’ll definitely worry if she sees I’m not there.”

Alajos followed Vivian out of the ward, closing the door behind them. He placed his hand on Vivian’s shoulder and nudged her forward, signaling her to walk faster.

Vivian looked back at him; he seemed to be in decent spirits, but it couldn’t hide the dark circles under his eyes.

Had he not slept at all?

This guess made Vivian feel a flutter of excitement. The wedding process was complicated, and with a sleepless night, Alajos might be so tired that he would be dizzy, maybe too exhausted to make love to her.

Alajos escorted Vivian back to his apartment, where her mother Tasneem, Luzia, the makeup artist, and the stylist were already waiting in her room.

As soon as Vivian appeared, she was pulled to a chair to sit down. The makeup artist began to work on her, and the stylist fussed with her hair behind her. She was to sit in this chair for two to three hours which would make her back sore, tired, and in pain. But beauty demanded its price, and she had to endure.

Alajos only stopped to glance at her before he was hurriedly whisked away by Simpson, who had stayed up all night.

Simpson still wore the black shirt from the previous night, his tie loosened and hanging around his neck, “Hey, Alajos, I waited for you all night.”

Simpson complained slightly about his disheveled state, “You said you’d come.”

Alajos didn’t explain, just patted his solid shoulder, “How did things go?”

“I pulled their nails, shattered their kneecaps, and those who still wouldn’t talk got their tongues pulled out,” Simpson spread his hands casually, “There’s always someone who will confess out of fear of death.”

Alajos had confidence in Simpson’s interrogation methods and knowing this, he nodded, unbuttoned his suit jacket, took it off, and his arm wound started bleeding again, soaking half his sleeve.

Simpson frowned, not understanding, “You went to the hospital, why didn’t you get it treated?”

“It can still be treated now.”

Simpson followed Alajos downstairs; they had to rush to the ceremony hall.

In the room, Vivian tried to engage her mother in conversation.

“Mom, where’s Emily? I haven’t seen her.” Emily was her classmate from the private girls’ high school, her best friend at school, and they hadn’t seen each other for a long time.

“She couldn’t make it,” her mother answered briefly, then turned to discuss Vivian’s hairstyle with the stylist, “I think an updo would be prettier, or maybe curl her hair? No, no, her curls look good…”

“Mom,” Vivian resented her mother’s emphasis on the wedding, her mother should be the most aware of the pain this marriage would bring her, but she seemed so happy today.

Vivian was upset. Perhaps for her mother, today would be one of the happiest moments of her life, but for Vivian, it only brought pain and anxiety.

“What do you mean she couldn’t make it?” Vivian persisted.