Lege et Lacrima (Lost Hope Book 1) by Alina Comsa

Author:Alina Comsa [Comsa, Alina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Malum Canticus Books
Published: 2024-03-08T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter thirty

Cole

Her make-up is expertly done, full lips painted a deep red color tip in a predatory smile, her blue eyes framed by long fake eyelashes drink me in.

From where she sits directly across from me, her lower body is hidden under the table, leaving her half-exposed breasts on display. Clad in a form-fitting lacy crimson blouse, this woman seems completely out of place in the casual family-oriented bakery.

As are the flirty eyes she makes at me, considering my baby sisters are sitting right fucking here.

I’m not blind. Objectively she is a beautiful woman, but the desperation reeking off her is completely unappealing, even if I had eyes for anyone other than my hazel-eyed supernova.

“That seat is taken,” Eliza says flatly, not even bothering to lift her eyes from the book she’s reading.

“Ohh. Is your mommy coming?” the unknown woman asks in a saccharine tone, head slightly tilted toward Eliza, fake concern dripping out of her mouth.

I lean back in my seat and cross my arms over my chest. I’m ready to shoo her away. She overstayed her welcome the minute she decided to approach our table. When Eliza replies in an equally saccharine tone, it shocks the hell out of me.

“My mommy is dead. Do you want to be my mommy?” She now looks at the shell-shocked woman with round gray eyes, a shy smile, innocent face tipped to the side.

“Uh, I’m sorry to hear that. I’m sure your daddy here misses her very much,” the woman babbles, throwing me helpless looks.

I choke on a laugh because my little sister is sharpening her claws, and I’m more than happy to let her.

This woman is either oblivious or down-right blind. I haven’t said a word to her since she sat down, and instead of taking the hint and moving along, she’s now engaging my sister in conversation.

Most likely thinking Eliza’s the easiest way to reach me.

I’ve seen plenty of women like her, and never once have I been stupid enough to tangle myself in that hot mess. They appear classy, a faint air of superiority floating around their head, convinced there’s no man alive to ever refuse them.

Drop your guard for one second, they dig their claws deep into you, and before you know it, you’re at their beck and call. Or so she likes to think.

No man worth his salt would fall for the cheap charade she’s putting on.

“My daddy’s dead, too,” Eliza says. All pretenses of friendliness and innocence are gone, and I get a glimpse of what I’ll have on my hands in four short years when she becomes a teenager.

Confusion crosses the woman’s face; there and gone in a blink, the fake smile still etched on her lips. She’s at a loss for words but still unwilling to give up and move on, her eyes shifting from Eliza back to me, curiosity spilling out of them.

“The seat is still taken,” Eliza continues, unperturbed by the loss of her attention.

“Sorry it took so long, guys. It took me a while to figure out the cash register.

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