Chapter 14
Damian
Iknocked on her door for five minutes before giving up.
Was she not at home? If she wasn't, where the hell was she?
A dark haired woman came up the stairs and looked intently at me. She nodded. "What the fuck are you doing here?"
"Excuse me?"
"I'm Moana Christodoulopoulos."
This was the lawyer-escort friend. She was stunning. Sharp features. Dark eyes. A body made for sin.
"Hi, Moana. I'm looking for Emilia."
"No shit. Looks like I won the bet."
She walked to the door next to Emilia's.
"What bet?"
"We bet when you'd notice she'd left. She said two weeks, I said one. The thing is…she didn't want to win the bet."
I felt like a heel.
"She's not opening the door."
Moana raised an eyebrow. "Have you knocked?"
"For five minutes. I don't think she's home. Do you know where she could be?"
"Fuck." Moana went into her apartment and came back with a key. She opened Emilia's apartment.
I followed her in, and my legs shook when I saw Emilia curled up on the floor.
We both went down on our knees. "Emilia," Moana called out and touched her face. "She's cold."
I didn't know if she was hurt. But she wasn't responding to us calling her name or shaking her.
"She has a pulse," I managed to choke out.
"Call 911," Moana cried out, shaking her friend.
If I called 911, the media shitstorm would be unbearable. I called Doc and demanded he get to Emilia's lost asap. He said he'd be there in ten minutes max. While he drove, he asked me several questions.
"Is she breathing?"
I put a hand on her chest. "Yes."
"What's her pulse at?"
I held her wrist and then told him.
"Any blood anywhere?"
Moana, who had already looked shook her head.
"No, no blood."
"Okay. Color."
"Lips are…fuck, Doc, her lips are blue. It's cold here."
"Pick her up, get her into bed. Warm her up."
Moana pulled down the covers and Emilia groaned when I carried her. "Baby, Em."
"Hmm."
Her eyes were still closed, and her head lolled. I put her in bed and started to pack the comforter around her.
"Damian," Moana murmured, "grab another blanket from the closet."
I looked around and found a large cedar closet. There were clothes inside, sheets, towels, and blankets. I pulled out a thick blanket. We layered it over Emilia, tucking it tightly around her to trap in as much heat as possible.
"Doc's on his way." I trembled with worry. "He said to keep her warm and monitor her breathing."
Moana nodded, her face tense with concern. "Emilia, honey, can you hear me?"
Emilia's eyelids fluttered, but she didn't respond. I felt a knot of fear tighten in my chest. What happened to her?
Doc arrived a few minutes later, carrying his medical bag. He quickly assessed Emilia, checking her vitals, and asking us more questions.
"She's done this before," Moana told Doc, tears in her eyes.
"What?"
Moana nodded. "She…paints when she's upset, and she doesn't sleep or eat. She did that once a year ago…."
"Fucking hell." Doc pulled out things from his bag and set up a portable IV stand. "She's severely dehydrated and hypothermic. We need to get fluids into her and warm her up slowly. Damian, keep talking to her, keep her engaged."
"Emilia, baby, you gotta wake up, darlin," my voice didn't sound like mine, it was thick, clogged with emotion and fear.
Moana and I watched anxiously as Doc worked. The IV drip began to restore some color to Emilia's face, and her breathing became steadier.
"Why the fuck is it so cold here?" I demanded.
"The building has shit insulation and her heat is broken."
It was September, not too chilly yet, but with poor insulation, it made sense why the place was probably always freezing.
"Does she have any space heaters?" I looked around. This was the first time I'd been here. There was nothing here. Just bare bones furniture.
"I have one in my place." Moana patted me on my shoulder. "You came at the right time. So…I'll give you a brownie point."
I didn't deserve any points whatsoever. I'd ignored my new wife and didn't know that she moved out a week ago, that's how bad the situation was.
"What the fuck is going on with this poor kid?" Doc demanded as he checked her eyes again.
"I…don't know."
"Why is she here? I thought she was living with you."
"She…," I sighed, "it's complicated."
"No kidding."
I ran a hand through my hair. "She moved out, Doc. I didn't even know." Now that I said it, it sounded worse than when Liza reminded me.
Doc removed his gloves. "Why did you marry her?"
To hurt Bianca. But I hadn't just hurt Bianca who would be fine, she was still fucking Stanton according to my PI while she cried crocodile tears in front of my family and me. Emilia was the only one who had actually gotten hurt because of what I did.
"Well, can you get someone to stay with her? I don't want her alone," Doc muttered.
Moana was back with the heater. She plugged it into the socket. "I'll stay with her."
The heater made a hissing sound and Moana put a hand on Emilia's forehead. "Sweet Emilia."
"I'll stay," I said, feeling the need to do something right by this woman.
"No," Doc snapped. "I think you've done enough. I've seen this woman twice too many times now and both times it's you who are the problem."
"I didn't do anything the first—"
"You put her in harm's way and didn't protect her from Bianca, " Doc ground out. "And this time…," he looked at Moana.
"She was upset that you've been ignoring her, that her family cut her off, and your family pretends she doesn't exist," Moana pretty much summarized what Liza had said to me.
"What happened the last time?" I asked.
Moana kissed Emilia's forehead, right next to her stitches. "She's sleeping. I don't want to talk about this here where she may hear us."
We walked out from the bedroom area, which was cut off from the rest of the loft by a Japanese screen.
My eyes fell on the easel she'd been asleep in front of her. I hadn't noticed it until now.
The painting struck me like a punch to the gut. Beneath a stormy sky, a desolate landscape stretched out, with twisted, skeletal trees and a river of blood-red paint cutting through the barren ground. At the center, a heart lay broken and bleeding, its raw edges exposed as suffocating shadows crept around it.
"Fuck," Doc whispered.
"It hurts to even look at it," Moana said sadly.
There was such pain in that painting. Emilia had poured her soul onto the canvas, and it shattered me to see her anguish so vividly.
Doc's phone buzzed and he looked at his message. "I have to go. If anything changes, call me."
"Thanks, Doc." I held out my hand and he shook it. "She's gonna be okay, yeah?" I felt emotion hit my eyes and I knew Doc saw it. His face softened.
"Yes. But she needs rest and proper care."