Costantino

33 - I'm Here

A loud thud had me flinching in the bed, immediately sitting up. Somewhere in the room, Lula released a sharp, startled meow.

The door creaked open slowly and a tall figure entered in the dark, causing my heart rate to spike.

I grew up in the mafia which explains why my first thought will always be the worst case scenario. I've had this particular nightmare before, where someone comes into my room during the night. We have a lot of enemies - it's not uncommon for this kind of thing to happen.

But that initial fear after I was jolted awake didn't last very long.

As soon as he released a strained cough, I knew who it was.

"Costa?" I scrambled off the bed when he groaned, using the wall to support himself. Crossing the room, I made it just in time to catch him when he fell forward, coughing again.

"What happened?" I struggled under his weight, but thankfully, he still kept one hand on the wall.

He didn't answer me, but the pained groan was enough for me to know it was bad.

Very bad.

Somehow, I managed to keep a hold on him while reaching out to flick the light switch on.

The sudden light caused Lula to mewl and she scampered away, hiding somewhere in the room.

My eyes took a second to adjust to the bright lights that flooded the room, revealing the true extent of what happened.

My breath caught in my throat when I saw the extent of the injuries covering his battered face - bruises darkening his skin, blood trickling from a cut above his eyebrow.

His lip was busted pretty badly and his eye was turning black.

His shirt was torn, revealing more injuries and bruises to his upper body.

"Costa..." My voice cracked, tears springing to my eyes at the horrific, unexpected sight of how broken he was.

"I'm okay." He could barely get the words out, his breath coming out in ragged gasps.

"You're not." Maybe it wasn't the right time to cry considering he could barely stand, but I couldn't help it.

He was hurting and it hurt me.

It hurt me so much.

"Let me help you." With the intention of taking him over to the bed, I let him put all his weight on me.

I tried to wrap an arm around his waist to support him, but he flinched at my touch and let out a pained groan. Unable to keep him up on my own, he buckled, and we both ended up on the floor as I struggled to hold him up.

"Costa, you need a hospital." My voice came out tearful, laced with desperation. He needed to see a doctor - he needed proper treatment.

"No." He coughed, trying to push himself to his feet again. He could barely manage to move, let alone stand up again and he gave up pretty quickly.

"Your ribs, they might be broken." I spoke through the occasional tears that slipped out.

His response was mostly incoherent but I got the gist of it - they're just bruised, not broken.

We stayed kneeling on the floor for another few moments while he caught his breath, resting his head on my shoulder. The only thing I could do was stroke the skin of his arm, not daring to touch him anywhere else after what happen with his ribs.

"Are you ready to try again?" I sniffled, wiping the moisture from my cheeks.

He gave me a weak nod, so I got up first, and then slowly helped him up. Once he was stable on his feet, I helped him over to the bed.

He winced as he lowered himself onto the mattress, every movement causing him pain. I hurried to the bathroom to grab a first aid kit, trying to gain back some control over my emotions.

I needed to be strong - even if this whole thing was a huge shock in the middle of the night.

When I returned, Costa was sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes closed, as if he was trying to block out the pain.

I sat down next to him, opening the kit up on the bed next to me. Once I prepared all the wipes, I gently turned his face towards me.

"I'm sorry if this hurts." I whispered, switching on the lamp next to us so I could see his cuts more clearly.

He didn't reply, so I dabbed the antiseptic wipe on the first of his cuts - and there were lots of them. The contact caused him to flinch, but otherwise he remained quiet.

During those few minutes of quiet, Lula came out of her hiding place. She trotted back over to her bed, completely oblivious to our reality and the pain Costa was going through while I cleaned his wounds.

Costantino Accardi had the world's best poker face. The last time I cleaned his wound after he got hurt when Giovanni was shot, he didn't react at all. He just stared at me with a blank expression, like a psycho.

But this time, he didn't have the energy to hide how bad every dab of the antiseptic hurt him. He wasn't hiding anything from me.

For the first time, he was just completely and utterly vulnerable. And I hated every second.

Because it wasn't him.

It wasn't my Costa.

"What happened, Costa?" I only spoke to him once I was done cleaning the cuts on his face and I was now carefully putting butterfly stitches on some of them.

"My father." He spoke through gritted teeth, flinching again when I laid down a stitch over one of the worst cuts above his eye.

"Your father did this?" Costa already told me how hard his father was on him, but I didn't know he went so far as to beat his own son black and blue.

My heart sank at the thought of Costa going through this alone for all of these years.

If I wasn't here tonight, he would have been taking care of his own wounds himself.

I saw Edoardo slap Costa when he found out he was the one behind ruining my potential marriage alliance with Viktor Kozlov. That slap was horrific - but I never imagined this.

This was the first time I'd seen the full extent of Edoardo's punishments and I already knew I could never handle seeing it again.

"Ready for your chest?" I prepared more wipes to clean the huge gash across his chest and a couple of other smaller wounds.

Costa nodded, releasing a shaky breath as we worked together to get the ripped button up shirt off his body.

It was the first time I wasn't secretly happy to see him shirtless.

"Why did he do it?" I asked, my voice tight with anger and hatred towards his father.

"We met with an Italian drug manufacturer. He tried to hurt some girl at the club so Rocco defended her." He spoke through gritted teeth as I began cleaning his wounds on his chest. "It caused a fight. Ruined the deal."

"He was doing a good thing, no? Why would your father-"

"He doesn't care." Costa whispered, his voice coming out strained while I continued to dab at his wounds. "Business comes first."

"So, Rocco is hurt too?" Costa nodded in response. He opened his mouth to reply, but a gasp escaped instead.

"Fuck." He quickly grabbed my hand when I dabbed at the worst cut across his chest.

"Sorry." I frowned, watching as he started violently coughing again from the sudden movement. "I really think we should go to a hospital."

"No."

"Costa-"

"No hospitals. Fuck, Millie just finish already." He groaned, throwing his head back with his eyes closed.

I reluctantly continued cleaning his wound, trying to be quick but also gentle. Not that it really helped - he was in agony.

I worked in silence, focused on cleaning and bandaging his injuries and his ribs. Costa watched me with cloudy eyes that made my heart ache. They were full of pain and there was a vulnerability in them that I hadn't seen before.

"All done." I finished applying the bandage around his midsection to protect his ribs, releasing a breath of relief.

"I'm going to get a cloth to clean some up some of the blood. Shall I bring you a fresh T-shirt?"

"No. Just help me take these off." He nodded towards his pants.

It's funny how certain scenarios will have you easily doing the things you would otherwise never do - or have never done.

"Sure." He was barely conscious at this point as I unbuckled his belt. I helped him out of his pants and then into the bed.

He winced with every movement, but he didn't complain. I gently guided him to lie down. I quickly cleaned up the first aid kit and then used a warm cloth to clean the blood off his face and chest. Once I was done, I helped him take the strongest painkillers I could find in his medicine cabinet.

He had a lot of them, so I'm guessing they were the ones he used in situations like this.

"I'll be back in a few minutes." I whispered, now in the dimly lit room.

The only light we had left on was the lamp by his bedside, just for comfort. I knew he'd be waking up constantly throughout the rest of the night, so the light would help keep him calm.

"Where are y..." It hurt me every time he wasn't able to get a sentence out.

"Rocco. I'm just going to check on him." He barely managed to nod before his eyes drooped closed and he succumbed to the sleep.

I quietly left our room with the first aid kit, padding barefoot down the hallway where I knew Rocco's room was.

I'd never been in there, but I knew it was his.

I hesitated outside the door, but something told me to go inside. If he was anything like Costa was just now, he'd need someone too.

I knocked twice, but received no answer. Then I gathered whatever was left of my courage, pushing the door open.

"Rocco?" I called out softly, stepping into the dimly lit bedroom. I looked around, noticing the bloody clothes that were strewn across the floor.

My eyes searched the room until they landed on the bathroom door which was ajar.

"Rocco?" Still no answer.

I kept going until I reached the door, taking one last breath before I pushed it open. He was stood in his boxers, gripping the marble counter as he dabbed at an open wound on his forehead.

"Rocco?" My voice caused his movements to freeze and his bloodshot eyes met mine in the mirror.

"Go."

"Let me help you."

"No." Just like Costa, his voice was strained when he spoke.

Their injuries were extremely similar - cuts and bruises across their face and upper bodies. Bruised ribs, black eyes and busted lips.

Somehow, Rocco was holding himself up against the counter long enough to treat his wounds, but I could tell it was tough.

"Please?" I tentatively stepped into the bathroom.

The only sign that he'd relented was the way he dropped the bloody antiseptic wipe in the sink, now using both hands to hold onto the counter for support.

"You want to lie down? I can do it for you in your room."

The last bit of his stubborn wall began to crumble as he let out a defeated sigh. He pushed himself off the counter, wavering slightly. I quickly stepped forward to support him, but he shot me a warning glance.

"I can manage." He muttered, though his steps were unsteady.

We made our way to his bed, and he gingerly lowered himself onto the edge, wincing with each movement.

I opened the first aid kit I had brought with me, kneeling in front of him. His body tensed as I opened the kit and took out an antiseptic wipe.

I lifted my hand to his cheek and he immediately pulled back causing me to frown.

"Rocco, you need to let me do this." I said softly, reaching for a cut on his cheek.

He remained silent, his jaw clenched, but this time he didn't stop me. As I dabbed at the cuts on his face, I could see him fighting to maintain his composure.

Just like Costa, he didn't have the energy to hide his pain. Except, he had more of a reason to do it - his pride around me.

We didn't have the best relationship - I think everyone knew that. The room was heavy with the tension of our previous arguments and the animosity between us.

The antiseptic stung on a particularly deep cut, causing him to flinch slightly.

"Sorry." I murmured, trying to be as gentle as possible.

"Why do you even care?" He snapped, his voice barely above a whisper.

I paused, looking up to meet his gaze. "I'm not going to leave you alone to deal with this."

He didn't respond, but I could see the conflict in his eyes. I continued to clean and bandage his wounds, working as gently as possible.

"Hold still." I reached for a bandage wrapping it around his bruised ribs, making sure it was snug but not too tight. He winced but didn't pull away.

"You're good at this." He spoke with a mild irritation, almost like complimenting me annoyed him.

"I've had practice." I replied, thinking of all the times I'd patched up Damian and Julius over the years. "But it's not something I ever wanted to be good at."

Once I was done, I gave him some painkillers - he had the exact same ones stored in his bathroom as Costa did.

"You should rest. Your body needs time to heal. I'll be back in a minute with an ice pack." Rocco nodded slightly, his eyes closing as he leaned back against the pillows. I turned to leave, but his voice stopped me.

"Thank you." He murmured, so softly I almost missed it.

I nodded, even though he couldn't see me. Now that both of them were resting, I headed downstairs for the ice packs.

The house was dead silent, which was a little unusual at 1am - especially after the party which only just finished.

What I also didn't expect was to come face to face with Edoardo Accardi in his kitchen.

I came to a sudden stop in the doorway of the kitchen when I saw him over by the liquor cabinet.

He looked up, his eyes cold and calculating as they locked onto mine. For a moment, neither of us spoke. The tension in the room was palpable, and I felt a shiver run down my spine.

"Millicent." His voice was deceptively calm in the eerily silent kitchen. "What are you doing up this late?"

I swallowed hard, building up all the courage I could muster.

"I was just getting some ice packs for Costa and Rocco." I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. "They need them for their injuries."

I knew what I was doing by mentioning their injuries, but this bitch also knew why I was awake.

Edoardo's eyes narrowed and he lifted his glass to his lips, allowing me to see his busted knuckles.

"Injuries." He repeated, his tone laced with disdain. "Is that what you call their weakness?"

My heart pounded in my chest as I crossed the kitchen, heading for the freezer.

"They're not weak. They're strong, stronger than you realise." I pulled out a bunch of ice packs, hurrying my movements so I could get out of there as quickly as possible.

He laughed, a harsh, bitter sound that echoed through the silent house. "Strong? You think enduring a little pain makes them strong? They're nothing but disappointments - both of them."

His words were slightly slurred, an indication of how much alcohol he'd consumed. I turned to face him, clutching the ice packs tightly.

"They're your sons." My voice trembled with a mix of anger and fear. This man had been drinking, there's no telling how unhinged he was. "How can you say that about them? After everything they've done for you?"

Even if he was drunk, it wouldn't stop me from giving him a piece of my mind. Edoardo's expression darkened, and he set his glass down on the counter with a loud clink. The Don of the Sicilian Mafia stepped closer to me, almost threateningly.

"Because it's the truth." His voice was low and dangerous, the kind he'd use on those he wanted to scare. "And you would do well to remember your place in this family, Millicent. Don't forget why you're here."

I met his gaze, refusing to back down despite the fear gnawing at me on the inside.

"It was a marriage of mutual benefit. That means you need to treat me with respect. My family won't take kindly to any harm coming to me."

Perhaps I was calling his bluff, especially since my own father didn't care much for me anymore. But I had to remind him that he didn't hold all the cards - most of them, but not all.

His eyes flashed with anger, and he took another step toward me, his voice a menacing whisper. "You think you're brave, don't you? But remember, I put you in this family. I can take you out just as easily. This marriage was a punishment for Costa, but it can become a punishment for you too."

"I know why I'm here, Edoardo. Don't forget, if I leave, the alliance leaves with me. You might want to rethink that considering your war with the Russians and the Serbs."

I crossed a line by reminding him of his war and threatening to break the alliance - and I knew it. But he needed to be reminded that he wasn't the only one with control here.

For a moment, we stared at each other, the air thick with hostility. Every ounce of hate and anger I felt towards that man was conveyed in my glare.

Then, without another word, I turned and walked out of the kitchen, my heart racing. As I climbed the stairs, I couldn't shake the image of Edoardo's cold eyes and the venom in his voice.

I didn't care that our marriage was fake and I definitely didn't care about what happened the other day in his penthouse office. No matter what he did, Costa didn't deserve this kind of treatment from his own father. Neither did Rocco.

Returning to Rocco's room, I placed an ice pack gently against his swollen ribs and one on his cheek, careful not to wake him.

Then I made my way back to our room to be with Costa.

I got into the bed next to him, shuffling closer so I could give him the ice packs. His olive toned skin was paler than usual. Covered in a light sheen of sweat, it was clammy and warm to the touch.

I gently placed one on his ribs which caused him to stir. But, it was the second ice pack on his bruised cheek which caused his right eye to fly open - the left remaining swollen shut.

He opened his mouth to speak but the sharp intake of breath caused him to start coughing - violently. He attempted to sit up but I quickly placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"Millie." He wheezed, his voice filled with a mixture of panic and pain as he coughed. "I can't breathe."

"Shh. It's okay. Don't worry." I murmured, gently running my fingers through his hair. "Take it slow. Breathe slowly."

His breathing was shallow and laboured, his face contorted with pain and exhaustion as he slowly caught his breath. I sat quietly beside him in the dimly lit room, hoping my presence would calm him.

"You're okay, it's okay. Just breathe. I'm here." I repeated words like that over and over to him.

Costa winced occasionally, his body tensing every time. I ran my fingers through his hair or I caressed his shoulder or his arm, trying to offer some comfort.

He didn't speak, and neither did I. Words felt unnecessary at that point.

During the next few hours, I dozed off occasionally, but some kind of internal alarm kept waking me up to tend to him - to not leave him alone for too long.

I adjusted the ice packs when needed, making sure they stayed in place to soothe his injuries.

Whenever he woke up, I was there to keep him calm so he didn't panic when he struggled to breathe through the pain. Or, sometimes he was just confused like he didn't know what was going on or why his body was in so much pain.

A few times, I moistened a cloth with cool water and dabbed gently at his forehead, relieving the sweat that had gathered there from the stress his body was under.

Costa's breathing gradually became more even as the night wore on, the pain easing slightly with the help of medication and rest.

Unless I was away checking on Rocco, I stayed by his side throughout the night.

Neither of us wanted to get married, yet somehow after three months of ignoring each other, we started to have a breakthrough. We were getting on better and better until I overheard what he was saying with his brothers.

Yet, this protective urge to take care of him and support him was stronger than I ever expected. It also showed me how deep my feelings really ran for him.

It wasn't just a crush like I initially thought when I told Damian.

It was way more than that.

So, because of that, I pretty much stayed awake with him all night. It was just us, in the safety of our room.

>>>>>>>

The rest of our morning went exactly the same - except we started sleeping for longer periods of time.

Then the worst thing happened.

We slept through breakfast.

It was Costa's groan that woke me up from my deep sleep, alerting me to the emptiness in my stomach for the first time.

I already knew it was going to be a shitty day from the way I woke up feeling hungrier than ever. Especially since I spent most of the night awake without any snacks.

"What's the matter?" I sat up next to Costa when he squeezed my hand in his. Our hands were intertwined, resting between us on the bed while we slept.

He wasn't due to take anymore painkillers yet since I already gave him some two hours ago when he woke up in pain.

"Fuck. I need to piss." He groaned, attempting to sit up. The action caused him to groan again - this time out of pain from his injuries.

"Oh." He needs to...oh dear.

"Help me then." He snapped, causing me to narrow my eyes at him.

"Say please." I absolutely used a patronising tone just to annoy him and I wasn't even ashamed.

"Please." He spat, although there was a sarcastic undertone to his voice.

Deciding to push my bad mood aside for the moment, I got out of the king sized bed, heading around to his side.

I helped him sit up first and then get up off the bed. In the end, I had support most of his weight as we headed into the bathroom as slowly as we could.

"You'll be okay from here, right?" I scrunched up my nose when we stopped in front of the toilet.

"You don't want to help me?" He whispered, his busted lips pulling into the smallest smile.

I rolled my eyes at his weak attempt at humor. "I think you can manage this part on your own."

"Just stay close." He murmured, leaning against the wall for support.

I nodded, lingering outside by the bathroom door to give him some privacy while still being close enough to help if he needed it. I heard him occasionally hiss as he moved around, the sound making me wince.

As I stood there, my mind drifted to the conversation with Edoardo in the kitchen. The hatred in his eyes, the cruel words he spat, and the way he belittled Costa and Rocco.

The way he threatened me.

Edoardo hated me already, but after last night, I'm sure that bitch was plotting my murder. And he's psychotic enough to try and pull off something extravagant to get his revenge on me for the way I spoke to him.

What if he tries to kill me with spiders?

My anxiety spiked at that thought.

And no, I don't mean a spider bite. I mean, just showing me a spider will kill me because of my arachnophobia and anxiety.

I shook my head at the thought of anyone ever going through the psychological torture of having to endure a phobia. I couldn't imagine it.

"Done." Costa's strained voice broke me out of my sickening thoughts.

I stepped back into the bathroom and helped him wash his hands before supporting him back to bed. He moved slowly, every step a painful reminder of his injuries.

Once he was settled, I grabbed a clean shirt from his closet and handed it to him. "Want to put this on now or later?"

"Later." I nodded, draping the shirt over a nearby chair

"Are you hungry? Shall I bring you-" He cut me off with a shake of his head. "Okay. You should try to rest a bit more. I'll give you some medicine in a couple of hours."

He nodded, his eyes already drifting closed. As I turned to leave, his hand reached out, grabbing mine. "Stay."

"Okay." I whispered, sitting back down next to him. His grip on my hand was weak but I couldn't bring myself to pull away.

We stayed like that for a while, his breathing gradually evening out as he drifted back to sleep. I watched him, my mind still racing with thoughts of what to do next.

Edoardo was a powerful man, and going against him was dangerous. But Costa was too out of it to be bothered with my drama. All I had to do was avoid Edoardo for the time being.

When Costa was finally in a deeper sleep, I quietly slipped out of bed and made my way down to the kitchen - taking Lula with me. My stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn't eaten since the previous night.

"Where is everyone?" I was midway through my breakfast when Tristano came into the kitchen. "I haven't seen anyone all morning."

"I wonder why." I muttered, my anger spiking again. I think Lula felt the same because she took a break from eating her breakfast to hiss at him

"What?" He frowned, not understanding my hostility towards him, or Lula's.

"Where did you go last night?" I questioned. I noticed his walls go up in the subtle way that his posture tensed and his expression became guarded.

"I went out after the party. After we took care of the twins."

Yes, Tristano and I spent an hour together last night taking care of Aidan and Giovanni after they got drunk playing a drinking game together.

I don't even know which of the two idiots decided to do it. They just started causing chaos until Tristano and I ushered them upstairs before Edoardo saw them. It was just the two of them playing and they both ended up completely intoxicated.

It was a painful hour of cleaning up their vomit in the bathroom and helping them into bed to sleep off the sheer amount of alcohol they consumed.

Afterwards, I retired to my room, stripping off the beautiful dress Costa got for me which was now covered in Aidan's vomit. I took a shower and got into bed, ready to sleep off the memories.

It was during that time that Tristano must have left the villa and then Rocco and Costa returned to face the wrath of their father without him.

"Well, the twins are probably still sleeping off their hangover. Costa and Rocco are sleeping too."

"Why? It's really late for them."

"Ask your father." I muttered, pushing my chair back to stand up.

"Stop talking in riddles and just fucking tell me." He snapped, following me over to the sink where I put my empty plate down.

"Something happened during the meeting they went to last night. They came back and your father punished them."

Tristano's face immediately went pale. He knew exactly what I meant, I just don't think he expected me to know much about his father's punishments. Maybe he didn't think Costa would ever tell me.

"Punished them how?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

"You know how. They're in pretty bad shape. Rocco's barely conscious, and Costa... he's hurt, Tristano. Badly."

He looked stricken, guilt flashing across his features. "I should have been here." He spoke quietly, more to himself than to me.

"Yes, you should have. I shouldn't have had to take care of both of them alone." I replied harshly. "But you weren't here. So now, you can help me make it right."

His eyes met mine, and for a moment, the guarded expression softened. "What do you need me to do?"

"Help me move Rocco to my bed where Costa is sleeping. I need to keep an eye on both of them."

He nodded without hesitation, not even questioning if my decision was a smart one. "Alright. Let's go."

We made our way to Rocco's room in silence, the air awkward and thick with tension. When we entered, Rocco was still leaning against the pillows, asleep in the same position I last left him in.

"Rocco." I called softly, approaching the bed. He stirred, his eyes fluttering open. Pain and exhaustion were clear in his expression, but he still managed a weak scowl when he saw me.

"What?" He rasped. It's safe to say he hasn't been happy to have me coming to check on him throughout the night.

It was his pride. It always comes down to pride with these mafioso.

"We're going to move you to my room so I can keep an eye on both you and Costa. Can you manage that?"

"No." he replied stubbornly. "I'm fine here."

See? Pride.

I clenched my jaw, trying to keep my patience. It was easier said than done considering how little sleep I was running on. "You're not fine, Rocco. You need to be with Costa. It's easier for me to take care of both of you in one place."

Tristano stepped forward, his expression conflicted. "Rocco, just do it. It's better for everyone."

Rocco's gaze shifted between us, seeing the determination on our faces. Finally, he sighed in resignation. "Fine. But don't think this changes anything."

"Trust me, I know." I scoffed, still pissed about everything that happened recently. "But it's not about that. It's about getting you both better."

With Tristano's help, we carefully lifted Rocco from the bed. He groaned in pain, leaning heavily on us as we made our way to my room.

Costa was still asleep, his bruises and cuts looking so much worse in the daylight. It hurt me to see him so broken. His face was swollen, a frown etched on his forehead as he slept.

We gently settled Rocco onto the bed beside him. He let out a sigh of relief, closing his eyes once he was comfortable.

Tristano fixed the duvet over his brother before he straightened up, turning to face me. "What now?"

"I'll stay with them. They need someone to look after them, and I need to make sure they're okay."

Tristano hesitated, then he nodded. "Alright. I'll handle anything that comes up business wise. Just... let me know if you need anything."

"Thanks." I replied, a bit more softly, my anger towards him simmering down for the moment.

I turned back to Costa and Rocco, their labored breathing filling the silence. Once I was sure they were okay, I settled down at the desk, opening up my laptop to do some work.

It was the only thing I could do to pass the time and stop my mind racing with unwanted thoughts.

But every time my gaze shifted over to Costa, a strange pain filled my chest. But also, a sense of protectiveness, something I didn't expect.

I was suddenly ready to fight anyone who ever tried to hurt him like this again - regardless of who it was.

My husband may be a lot of things, but he didn't deserve this. At least, that's how I felt.