Chapter Twenty-one
Vida
T he rain pounds against the windows, creating a chaotic rhythm that backtracked the turmoil inside me. My mind is racing and my heart feels like it’s almost pounding out of my chest. I pause for a moment, trying to calm my breathing as my mind struggles to process the sight of Ciro and his best friend mercilessly interrogating that man. The brutality of Ciro, how he mercilessly landed each blow . . . how does the event still leave me both terrified and inexplicably captivated?
As I move further into the house, seeking some kind of peace, the silence in here does the opposite of help, it only amplifies my thoughts. I look out the window, my eyes fixed on the shed, hoping that just maybe, everything was a figment of my imagination, just a stupid thing my mind must’ve conjured up. Instead, my soaking wet clothes and hair, the pouring rain, and that damn light still on in the shed, are all reminders that in fact it was all real.
My body trembles, not just from the cold of my soaking wet clothes, but from the rollercoaster of emotions raging within me.
“Nothing a warm bath can’t fix,” I say out loud, trying to convince myself and get my composure back.
I strip out of my drenched jacket and boots, shaking off the droplets that cling to my skin. I take my book and drink from the living room where I’d been earlier and head upstairs, hoping that my warm bath will work.
My thoughts spiral as I make my way to the room. I need that bath, because it seems like it’s the only way I can possibly escape from the reality of what I’d just witnessed. As I step into the room, I take a look at my reflection in the mirror. My hair is plastered against my face, and my clothes cling uncomfortably to my body. Why did I wear a light silk dress out in the rain? I can’t help but wonder what I was really thinking when I stormed out there like that.
My naked body peers through the wet see-through gown, making me grateful that I’d taken a jacket with me. I would’ve died if he saw me like this, half naked while watching him beat a man to death.
I walk over to the bedroom window, watching the rain slow. I get lost in my thoughts, thinking about only one thing, about just one person. The images of Ciro, brutal in composure, leaves me breathless. There is a part of me that had felt drawn to his strength and the way he owned who he was and what he was doing. He didn’t have to hide or pretend, he owned it and didn’t second guess every punch.
“What is wrong with you?” I ask myself the question I don’t have an answer to.
Am I truly horrified by what I witnessed, or is there an unsettling thrill spreading through my veins? I press my forehead against the cool glass, the rain blurring my reflection.
“What will you even say to him when he comes back? How can you pretend that you didn’t see anything?” I ask myself as I stare at my blurry reflection, hoping an answer will find me.
As the rain begins to slow more, I pray these raging feelings will slow with it.
“Did you like what you saw?” Ciro asks, startling me and causing my breath to hitch as I spin around and find him standing behind me. How had I not heard him come in? Was I so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t hear a thing?
Ciro steps into the room, shaking off the rain from his hair, his eyes scanning the room before settling on me. His hands are still bloody, as are his white shirt and neck that caught some of the blood splatter as well. Watching him stand in front of me only brings all of the emotions I’ve begged to leave, every memory I’ve tried to forget, flooding back to the surface. I stand still, watching him, unable to speak or move, almost unable to even breathe.
“Earth to chaos,” he says, his voice low and teasing, sending a rush of warmth through me, defiling every cool breeze in the room.
“What did you say?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper and my brain caught off guard by the intensity of his gaze.
“The show I put on. Did you enjoy it?” he asks again, a smirk on his lips, almost like he is teasing me.
Denial is my best option now. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Deep down I knew, I knew so well that I could feel the heat creeping up my neck.
Ciro steps closer, his eyes darkening with intensity. “I know you were watching. I saw you peek in at me.”
My heart races as he admits it, a mix of embarrassment and thrill flowing through my veins. What is he playing at and why?
“You sound like you didn’t want me to leave,” I shoot back, trying to maintain my composure.
“The only reason I didn’t stop you, little chaos, is because I will not stand another man’s blood on your skin,” he replies, showing me his bloodied palms and knuckles. His words hang in the air, a chilling promise and a threat that sends shivers down my spine. I can feel the goosebumps on my skin, confused, yet satisfied with his statement as it sinks in. There is something about the way he said it that almost makes my skin crawl, yet my lips want to stretch into a satisfied smile.
We stand here, eyes locked in a moment that feels electric. I can’t help but notice the way his eyes travel over me, lingering on my soaked gown that hides absolutely nothing. That realization makes me want to run and cover myself, yet I watch his eyes and how they stay glued on my body, and don’t move to hide myself from him. This surge of vulnerability is common since the moment I met him, but this time, this time there is some power to it and God, it feels intoxicating. This is the first time I’m getting to make the decision to show myself to him instead of him just taking that choice away from me, and damn, does it feel good.
As I open my mouth to speak, he stops me.
“I’m going to get a shower,” he says, his eyes tearing away from me.
“Okay,” I reply, watching him walk away.
Ciro walks toward the bathroom, working at unbuttoning his wet shirt as he goes. I don’t want to watch, yet I can’t tear my eyes away from him. The way he moves, and the thought of him revealing more of his painted skin to me has my own heating, and me breathless.
With his shirt open now and him standing in the bathroom with his back to me, I watch him, my eyes barely blinking so I don’t miss anything. As he removes his pants and slowly his briefs, my eyes drink him in from the waist down as he stands bare and naked. I’m certain that it won’t take much more of this man for me to pass out, yet I stay rooted in place, staring at his perfect ass and his tattooed thighs and calves.
I’ve stopped breathing and it feels like my life source is this man’s ass, the one that feels like it’s glaring into my soul. God forgive me, but at this very moment, everything primal in me is worshipping his bare ass.
As he turns to face me, my breath hitches again. Our eyes lock and I feel as though the world has narrowed to just the two of us. In this moment, the air thickens, filled with a mix of confusion and something else; shame? Desire? It can’t be, can it? All the barriers we have built around ourselves shake for the first time, yet I hardly even notice.
My heart races, a whirlwind of emotions moving inside me. I’m both terrified and exhilarated, caught in the moment of what we’re sharing. The lines between right and wrong blur, and for the first time, I question everything I thought I knew about myself.
As Ciro closes the door between us, I promise myself that these feelings are just for tonight and will never happen again.