Chapter 4 #2
A few minutes later, I heard, “Do you like tea? Or hot cocoa?” Eve's voice floated from behind me.
Stefan sat back on the couch and pulled me beside him. “We'll start with the hot cocoa,” he spoke quietly, his arm behind me.
“She's shocky. You should put her on your lap. Warm her with your body heat,” Eve suggested, a cup in each hand.
Immediately after that, Stefan arranged me on his lap. I wanted to push back. To tell them I was fine. That I wasn't in shock.
Except when I went over the signs of shock in my mind, I realized she was probably right. I was in shock.
And I wanted Stefan to warm me.
And hot cocoa sounded really good. And I'd bet that Eve didn't make it with a crappy stolen package of powdered mix from the hospital like I did.
I bet Eve made it in some delicious, classy way.
I struggled to get my hands free so I could grab the cup from her.
She gave me a small, sad—yet worried—smile as she handed the cup over.
But my hands were still shaking too much. Before I had a chance to spill it, Stefan took it. “Shh, you're fine. I've got you,” he whispered into my ear. “You're safe, Chesca.”
When he called me that—his nickname for me—the tears that I'd been able to keep at bay began falling.
“Shh,” he said, his warm lips touching the cool skin on the side of my face. It felt wonderful, having him so close like this. Holding me.
Telling me everything was going to be okay. When deep down I knew it wasn't going to be. Mostly because it never was okay. Not once in my freaking life had it ever been—okay.
Stefan held the cup to my lips, and I took a quick sip. Oh, man. It was great. Just like I suspected. Eve could make a mean cup of hot cocoa. It was creamy and delicious. And so, so chocolatey.
“More?” Stefan asked, and I nodded. “Yes, please.” My voice sounded slightly stronger. He held the cup and helped me slowly drink it all. I could feel the warmth from it—and from Stefan—seep through me. It didn’t take long before I felt a whole lot better.
“Here, I warmed up some lasagna. Evie made it for supper. She makes the noodles from scratch and everything.” Giselle crouched down in front of us with a small grin on her face. “You'll love it. We all do.” Her hand settled on my knee, over the blanket. She looked at Stefan and then stood.
The lasagna smelled divine. I moved around on Stefan's lap, trying to free my hands.
But he stopped me. “No, I'll feed you,” he said, cutting into the steaming hot piece of lasagna.
He blew on it, cooling it for me. Which I thought was so nice.
And then when I guess he deemed it to be acceptable, he held it up to my lips.
I opened, allowing him entry. Once again, my lower belly clenched.
And it wasn't from hunger. It was from Stefan feeding me. I liked it.
A lot.
My feelings confused me. I didn't know what to make of them. Finally, I slipped my hands out of the blanket and tried to take the fork and plate from him. “It's okay. I can do it myself.” Even though part of me wanted him to continue feeding me like this.
He held the plate out of reach. “No, I'm doing this for you. Cover back up.”
But I left the blanket off. “I'm warm. I'm fine, Stefan. Really.”
He didn't say anything. All he did was glare.
Yikes.
So, I covered myself back up.
And he offered me more of Eve's fantastic lasagna.
Giselle was right. This was by far the best I'd ever tasted.
Not that I was much of a connoisseur. I rarely attempted homemade lasagna.
Mostly because cheese was so dang expensive.
So, mine usually ended up more like a pasta bake than anything else.
But Eve's lasagna was in a whole other atmosphere altogether. The meaty, cheesy, tomatoey goodness exploded in my mouth like a perfect symphony.
I ate the whole thing. And to be honest, I wanted to ask for more. But I knew I needed to get the heck out of here as soon as possible.
That was when I finally took a minute to look around.
And realized that Carlo, Nick, and their wives were still here.
Oh, gosh. How long had I been on Stefan's lap?
And they all stayed here while I had a major freak out.
And then watched as Stefan and fed me. Something about that made me feel odd—but it also made me feel something else that I didn't quite understand.
“I should go,” I said and tried to push away from Stefan. “Thank you for—” my breath caught in my throat, “saving me tonight.”
Stefan wouldn't let me go, though. His arms tightened around me. “You're not going anywhere.”
I let my head fall forward and sighed. “I need to go.” I looked over at Giselle.
“Can I borrow something to wear?” I opened the blanket and glanced down at myself.
I was still wearing the white bustier and stockings.
I shook my head. “I can't really walk around like,” I waved my hand in a downward motion, “this.”
Once again, I felt my eyes get teary. I really didn't want to cry again in front of these people. But the thought of them leaving me on the side of a road somewhere not only frightened me but also made me so, so sad.
Because I didn't want to leave here. I wanted to stay.
Which was all kinds of stupid. I didn't even know these people who surrounded me.
Even so, something tugged at my heart. Which was dumb.
They didn't care about me. They cared about Stefan.
And if I left, then he would be safe. They'd all be safe.
But the longer I stayed here—the more danger I put everyone in. They must know that. They weren't idiots. Not like my family.
My family who was more than willing to sell me off to the highest bidder. My father must be crapping himself right now. Probably wondering when Raul was going to show up.
“You're not going anywhere. You're staying here. Stop talking like that.” Stefan's voice had a sharper edge to it now.
“I have to warn my father about Raul. Even though I don't really care right now what he does to my father. I still need to warn him.”
Stefan's hands landed on my shoulders. “What are you talking about? Your father will be fine. I'll deal with Raul.”
I stared into his handsome eyes and wanted to fall right into them—to believe what he was saying.
Nick interrupted us, “He's right, Francesca. You're staying here. For now. There are a few things that need to happen tonight. I understand how tired you must be. But these things,” he cleared his throat, “can't wait.”
Stefan let go of my shoulders and spoke to Nick, “Whatever you have to say, it can wait. You saw how exhausted she is. I'm taking her upstairs. And we can talk in the morning.” Stefan stuck his arm under my legs like he was going to lift me.
“Sit down, asshole. Listen to Nick,” Carlo said in his forceful voice. “We have a plan.”
Stefan's eyes narrowed on his brother. “A plan?” he asked like he'd just bitten into a lemon. “Right now, the plan is for me to take Francesca upstairs and let her sleep. She's been through enough today. I'm not going to force her to sit around and discuss stupid shit.”
Nick cut in. “It's not stupid shit, Stefan. It's a matter of life and death. Or, should I say, lives and deaths?”
Stefan let go of my legs. “Fine. Say what you have to say. But make it quick, for fuck's sake.”
Nick looked at me and then back to Stefan. Then he turned around and spoke to Carlo, “Do you want to tell them? Or shall I?”
Carlo gazed down at his friend and pushed away from the couch. “Go ahead. He listens to you.” Carlo walked around the couch and sat back down with Giselle.
“Very well, then. Obviously, Raul will be looking for you. If he's not already doing so. And as I said before, we need to find a way to make Francesca less enticing.” His eyes drifted down my exposed body. “In a manner of speaking.”
Stefan sat back in the couch and settled me into him, covering me with the blanket. I wasn't sure if he did it to keep me warm or to keep Nick's eyes off me. “Hurry up. Quit stalling. Say what you're going to say.”
Nick stared at Stefan for a moment. “You, and,” he nodded at me, “Francesca. You two need to get married.”