since damian was a child his parents have directed his every move. they’ve picked the nannies and tutors, selected the best schools, pushed him hard into following in the footsteps of all the men in his family by joining the family business. sometimes he feels there’s no way he’s truly his father’s son, if he’s the only one who struggles with how deep and dark the underbelly of the kiryakov family is. he feels guilt and shame, he berates himself for the excess he participates in. even now he wants to tear his eight hundred dollar dress shirt to shreds in his hands. exhaling sharply, he watches the way her arms uncross and he sees potential, as if lizzie is opening herself to this concept, this idea he’s put out in the open. “yes, if they found out, it’d be a scandal. we’d be the fucking talk of the town, but i think we assume their reach has no bounds, but i’ve hid things from my parents. haven’t you?” he points out, following the line of logic he’s been guiding himself through to even get to this point. there’s a step closer to him and he tenses just a little bit, but it quickly melts in his body as she offers him a smile. he wants to take a snapshot of it, to savour it, because sometimes he wonders between the smiles she gives him if it’ll be his last for a while. his own smile spreads across his features and he nods slowly. “you have no fucking idea.” he replies, taking a step closer to her and another as she continues. they’re dreaming big here, imagining not only escaping this endless war they’ve been forced to be part of but imagining changing the rules all together. “how do you propose we turn the tables, elizabeth?” he questions, his voice lower now because in all his haste to get close, now he’s close enough that he could reach out and touch. it’s a slow decision, the way his hand reaches out slowly, fingers practically aching until he manages to brush his over hers, electricity running through him. “because at the moment i have a bit of a one track mind and you are… the only thing i can see.”
lizzie didn’t bother to entertain fantasies. not the kind that she and damian were talking about anyways. in reality, she knew she’d stay in this life forever. she’d be forced to mold into the image her mother’s crafted out for her. she’ll probably marry a man just like her father - rich, dull, controlling. it’ll be another bitter cycle, unless she stops it. as cliche as it sounded, the rich girl who had the whole world in the palm of her hand hated her life. she hates the expensive secrets she’s had to shoulder on her back, secrets that aren’t even her own. the lovelace family is certainly far from innocent, hands dirtied in an attempt to keep maintaining their comfortably luxurious lifestyle. more than anything, lizzie’s tired. and just a little bit bored. but definitely tired. “of course,” she grins, “if they knew every single thing i did behind their backs, every thought that ran through my wicked little mind, i don’t even think we’d be having this conversation right now.” she’s not sure what’s more shocking at this moment - the fact that she’s smiling at him or that he’s smiling at her. nonetheless, she enjoys the sight more than she ought to. her smile only grows at his words and an unfamiliar feeling blossoms within her chest. lizzie isn’t sure what it is ( she’s used to trying to feel little to nothing, numbing the slightest emotion with whatever booze she can get her hands on ). “we prove ‘em wrong. we stop being their little puppets and control our own fate.” could they really do that or is this just merely part of the fantasy? it feels all too real, however, when she feels his fingers brush against hers. just like that, the feeling seems to grow more and she doesn’t even realize that she’s beginning to intertwine their fingers together. instantly, her heart flutters within her chest at his words. “really?” she asks, glancing up at him. they’re much too close now and lizzie suddenly desires to close the gap in between them. she knew that the right thing to do was stop this before it escalated. but lizzie liked doing the opposite of what she was told, testing the boundaries further and further. “is it bad to admit that i’ve been feeling the same about you?” it’s undoubtedly bad. terrible even. still, she edges closer now - the space between the two becoming minimal. “would it be even worse if we kissed right now?”
