Chapter Nineteen
Ciro
“P lease, please, please.” Her mumbles drag me from sleep for the second time tonight.
“Adam, please, let’s just go. Please,” she continues, tossing and turning.
Her nightmares have been a nightly torment and Carmela still won’t tell me what these nightmares are about. I don’t care enough to ask my wife, who of course has them every night and acts like she doesn’t keep me up with them.
I check my phone, finding it’s barely a few minutes past four in the morning. I haven’t gotten more than an hour’s sleep since the last time she had me up and it leaves me simmering with frustration.
“Adam,” she calls, her voice laced with frustration.
Whoever that bastard is, I have heard his name more times than I’ve cared to count. Who the hell was Adam? An old boyfriend? A best friend? A brother? Maybe her first husband even, the fuck do I care? I just need these nightmares to end so I can get some fucking sleep.
I drag myself out of bed, feeling helpless. The warm towel I use to clean her sweats when these happen doesn’t seem to work, and cold water only makes it worse. I walk toward the door and lean against the doorframe, arms folded, watching her with a growing sense of frustration. It’s a habit I’m not proud of, but it is the only thing keeping me from doing something rash, like picking her up and throwing her out of the window because of these damn nightmares.
“Please, please, stop,” she mumbles, distress clear in her voice as she fights in her sleep.
This woman has brought nothing but chaos since the moment Uncle Luca stepped back into our lives, and somehow I’m the one stuck with her forever.
“Fuck,” I mutter, rubbing my face, angry that the thought of being stuck with this woman doesn’t vex me like I expect it to.
“Adam, please, wake up,” she continues her plea.
I will fuck this dude up when I meet him, I swear, getting frustrated even more. My patience is wearing thin. I’m supposed to be sleeping, resting after the long day I had, not standing by the door and watching my wife battle with nightmares.
My attention is drawn to my phone as I see a text pop up. After a long sigh, I open it and read the text. It’s Lucia, informing me that she will be coming in early to check on Vida. After a sigh, I turn to look at her, finding her body has now settled, but the look on her face says otherwise.
I gently sit beside her, my eyes stuck on the sweat drops that dance across her face and the tears that roll down her cheeks. Whoever Adam is, whatever these nightmares are about, they hurt her and cause her so much pain. A pain I don’t even think she understands. A pain I’m familiar with.
Without any given permission, my hand finds its way to her face, gently wiping away the sweat and teardrops from her soft skin. What hurt her so much that she lets it hunt her down in her sleep? Why would she let anything cause her so much pain when she is a fucking force to be reckoned with? Doesn’t she know how insane she is? What power she holds.
Fuck her! I mentally curse, swiping a damp strand of hair off her face. It makes me so angry that she can be so bold, defiant, and unbearable around me, but lets something silly affect her this much.
I need something to drink, I think to myself, getting up and heading to the kitchen. After a quick check on her wound, I turn to head for the door.
“I love you, Adam. I will never love anyone but you.” I turn to her, watching her adjust into a better position.
I hate this woman. Hate that I am fucking stuck with her. Hate that she dares to say shit like that in her sleep when I am the fucking one having sleepless nights because of her nightmares and cleaning her tears off her fucking face!
Vida
I can’t decid e which is worse, the fact I’ve fainted more times in a month than I have my entire life, or that I always wake up to the sun shining right into my eyes. Every part of my body begs me to stay in bed, but I just can’t anymore. With my phone buzzing nonstop and the sound of female laughter coming from somewhere outside the room, both are making it impossible to stay in bed.
“Izzy!” I call with excitement, seeing my sister’s face on the other end of the video call.
“Hey, baby sis, it’s been a minute,” she smiles back, excitedly waving at me.
“Why are your tits showing that much?” I ask with a raised brow.
“They are? I didn’t notice,” she clearly lies, staring at her very much exposed tits.
“Are you trying to seduce your boss?” I tease.
“Ewww, that dude hates me. So, no! Someone told me I had great tits, so I’m trying to show them off more often,” she shrugs, though I don’t miss the hint of pink on her cheeks.
“Your boss hates you?”
“No, not like that,” she laughs. “He’s just super serious and doesn’t have time to be friends with his employees.”
“Oh, I see,” I smile at her, wondering who is laughing like a fool outside the room.
“Are you good? You look like shit,” Izzy says, getting my attention.
Well, I did get locked in here by my husband, jumped out a bathroom window, traumatized a taxi driver, slapped and hit said husband in front of people, got carried out like a lunatic, and also got turned on by his scent. But Izzy doesn’t need to know all that.
“Nightmares,” I reply.
“Still there? Any better? Would you consider seeing someone?” Izzy asks with concern.
“I’m fine, Izzy. I swear. And they’re actually getting better,” I lie, watching my sister give me a look.
“How are Ciro and Carmela?” Izzy asks, changing the topic.
“Cam is fine and my . . . Ciro is . . . I don’t even know,” I say, realizing Ciro hasn’t come to check on me since I’ve been awake.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes, I have to go,” I say, wondering who is laughing so hard and why Ciro hasn’t come in yet.
“Alright sis . . . I have to . . .”
“Miss Bella?” a deep voice says, interrupting the conversation.
“Yes sir . . . bye,” she whispers to me before hanging up.
Not weird that your boss sounds like Henry Cavill? I type out and send it to Izzy before putting my phone down and getting out of bed.
“Shit,” I wince, the pain in my thigh increasing immediately as I put weight on that leg.
Why am I so bothered about who is laughing in my honeymoon house and why my husband hasn’t come in to check on me? I have no idea why, but yet, when I hear that fucking laugh again, I move closer to the door, trying to forget the pain so I can find out what the hell is going on.
“Stop it, C, I should be at work,” the lady’s voice grabs my attention as I begin to climb down the stairs.
“I mean it,” I hear Ciro say. He sounds different, more relaxed, almost like a totally different person.
“We should hang out soon. You know I’d make time for you,” the lady says, placing her hand on Ciro’s.
I just stand here, watching the two talk like they’re lovers or something, and have no idea how to feel or what to do. Is this what was keeping him so busy?
“I know, and I’ll definitely make some time for that,” he smiles at her.
He’s smiling! Not in a mocking or mean manner, he’s actually smiling like a human being with genuine feelings.
“Excuse me,” I finally say, getting their attention. I watch as Ciro quickly pulls his hand away from the woman’s hand as he turns to look at me.
“You’re awake,” the lady says, smiling and getting up.
“I am,” I reply, trying my best to hide the fact that all I want to do is pull her by her hair and throw her out of my house.
“I’m Doctor Lucia, it’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you,” she says, introducing herself and extending her hand for me to shake.
“Vida. I haven’t heard a thing about you,” I reply, glancing at Ciro, who merely chuckles.
“Oh.” Lucia giggles awkwardly. “That’s okay. Glad, we’ve finally met, please sit.”
“I came to look at your wound, but Ciro suggested we let you sleep in a little bit,” she explains as she gestures for me to sit next to Ciro.
“So you two can catch up?” I ask, wondering why this is even bothering me.
“No, he said you didn’t sleep well last night,” she answers with a laugh, opening her kit and bending down to inspect my injury.
“I’ll be upstairs,” Ciro announces, getting up and leaving the two of us alone. Looks like he’s back to his brooding self.
“Looks like C did a good job with keeping it clean,” she comments after removing the bandages he’d put on.
“Yeah,” I mutter, my attention on Ciro’s footsteps until I hear the door close.
After a few minutes of silence and some pain, Doctor Lucia is finally done with me and starts to clean her things up.
“I’ll send some medications later and I suggest you rest a bit so you don’t strain it. It should be much better in a few days,” she instructs with a small smile.
“Thank you,” I say, taking a look at her handiwork on my thigh.
“Lucia . . . can I call you Lucia?” I ask, standing up.
“Yes, sure, of course.”
“I appreciate you coming in and treating me, but my husband’s hand is not a place to rest yours,” I say as calmly as I can, watching the smile fade off of her face.
“I didn’t mean . . .” she begins.
“I know,” I interrupt. “But I really do hate it when people touch him.”
“I understand.” She nods.
“I’ll go and let him know you’re leaving,” I say with a strained smile, heading toward the stairs. As I get to the bottom, I turn and glance at Lucia. “You are leaving, right?”
“Yes, yes I am. I have a lot of work waiting for me,” she replies with a forced giggle, picking up her bag and heading for the door.
“Thank you again. I hope we see you soon,” I say, smiling at her and making sure my words pass on the right message.
And just like when I was cleaning Ciro’s wound, I am certain again that I’ve gone completely mad, because why else would I do what I just did?