In Wounded Rhymes [Mafia Games X] のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 1 - チャプター 10

• A new record, a flourishing music career, new tours, bigger paychecks, enough savings for rent, a new car, and maybe a new house...Basically the things she looked forward to when she signed with the band under a bigger label. Not depression. Or a mental breakdown. Oh, right. A rather outdated term. "Now we generally call it a major depressive episode," was what her mom said the other night. Apparently it was the more clinically accurate term describing her condition. Good thing no one else knew about it. Yet."Not atypical for a 25-year-old after a traumatic breakup, hon. Stop being so hard on yourself," her mom had reminded. Dr. Michel even encouraged her to see a shrink last week. Yikes. Talking to a complete stranger who knew jackshit about her and her problems for an hour straight? Must be the most awkward thing ever. Veronica scowled and stepped out of the shower. Only the third time she bothered to bathe this week, but who cares...Lately she loved being alone and holing u

• Arcueil, Paris •"You good?""50 percent remaining." Enough for a 30-minute call. Théo stretched out on his daybed and sat up after checking his phone's battery bars. Growing impatient, he got on his feet and headed out the door.The rooftop would be ideal. Moonlit. Spacious. Private. He could talk to his girlfriend for as long as he wanted. His hand disheveled his clean-cut hair as he dashed across the hallway to get to the staircase. He glanced around the lonely apartment, then flipped the wall light on.The loft, unusually still since the all-nighters left, reeked of male musk and sweat. Théo grimaced. A tolerable noise of rock 'n roll music playing over a speaker in the next unit was the only thing keeping their apartment from being eerily quiet.Naturally, the place was a complete mess again. Dirty ashtrays, dirty shirts, and even filthier sneakers littered the living room. He would move out of this place in a heartbeat if only he had his own house and lot just waiting for his p

•Her sweaty palms went cold on her bare thighs as Veronica sat on the bed. Her back and legs felt like limp lettuce. She'd already stripped down to her nightdress, and the orange numbers her nightstand clock flashed told her it was going to be a long night. She waited for the sound of her faucet going off. The bathroom lights—because her boyfriend left the door ajar—kept her bedroom from being pitch-black. Veronica eyed his carry-on sports duffel near the windows. His hefty baggage then reminded her how he'd spent his entire day hopping on planes. Théo had just walked in a list of fashion shows in New York, Paris, and Milan consecutively. After fixing up a week-long vacation so he could spend time with her, he'd flown back to the US. Théo arrived an hour ago. She couldn't drive to pick him up at the airport at that point because Kyle was throwing another hissy fit back in the studio—something that

• "This bed's too cold." Veronica chuckled, not expecting his complaint. While Théo pretended to look annoyed, she switched off the lights, then snuggled to him under the covers. "Better?" she teased. "Perfect," Théo sighed. His arm circled her waist while he pretended to focus on the television screen. An impish grin put small slits beside his eyes. Veronica kept a side comment to herself. She was bra-less with nothing more than a thin sheath of sleeping gown over a small pair of scanties. He wore nothing but his boxers. No doubt he wanted to do something else later. They killed time watching TV, but she also kept her mind busy pondering things, committing to memory how addictively good it felt to be this intimate with him...to have him right next to her while he hugged her close. It had always been like this. Time apart always told her what they had was more than physical. He'd made clear of that himself from the beginning. "This isn't just a test run for me. Alright?" T

•   Théo straightened in the backseat and stared at the woman beside him about to start crying. What she just told him didn't quite sound right. He was still pretty jet lagged; maybe he'd misheard her.   "Honestly..." Veronica took the handkerchief he offered and wiped her eyes. "We both need it right now."   "No."    She must be sloshed. Or high?  Did smoking weed affect her judgment and emotional state this bad?    "It doesn't have anything to do with that. Okay?"   "Quoi?" He looked into her glinting eyes while his brain did a rewind. She probably thought he was still brooding over her refusal to his stupid proposal.   "I should've talked to you sooner. It's not fair; I know. And I feel awful. I'm not trying hard enough." Her voice wavered, and he could only watch as she tried to steady her breath. "It's just— You're doing so g