Chapter 39 - Bambalina
Bambalina
I wake up from the deepest, most delicious night’s sleep to a delectable pain between my legs. My body feels loose, like the human equivalent of a sigh, and I can smell Nicolò all over me. My eyes narrow wickedly. I’m going to skip a shower so I can hold onto him all day.
Pushing my fingers between my legs to where I’m sore and still damp, I recall everything.
His words, his caress, the feel of him filling me, of me pulling him in.
I don’t want to think about the fact it can’t ever happen again.
It was a one-time thing—so I could give him that part of me before I have to say goodbye to my old life and hello to a new one.
In four days, I will be married and Nicolò will leave.
The sooner I get used to the idea, the more bearable it will be.
A sharp spasm in my chest steals my breath. I have a persistent feeling I’ll never get used to the idea. It will never be bearable. But I have to behave like it is. I love Nicolò, so I have to let him go.
Nicolò said he loves me too, but this will be the true test. Can he really let me go?
I stand and look down at the sheets. There’s so much blood.
After Nicolò pulled out of me, we didn’t move from that spot in the bed.
I was shivering from the aftershocks and he held me for hours afterward.
Then I fell asleep, completely exhausted.
But it was perfect. I wouldn’t have wanted to lose my virginity any other way, or to anyone else.
The now-familiar clattering starts up outside the bedroom so I hastily pull on the pair of pajamas I’d left neatly folded on the chair.
I’m about to pull the sheet off the bed when the bedroom door bursts open.
Ria stands in the doorway and an unmistakable glimmer of hatred glistens in her eyes before they fall to the bed.
“Get out,” I splutter, without thinking. My untempered rudeness doesn’t deter her from rushing to the bed and peering at the red stain.
“I’m s-sorry,” I stammer. “I was about to change the sheets.”
“What is this?” she spits.
I’m not prepared for this—to have my bodily fluids inspected and questioned before I’ve had time to process the fact they’re even here.
“I-I got my period.”
Her glare darts to my pajamas which are obviously clean.
“This is not all blood,” she says in a low, vicious tone.
My heart pounds in my ears. “What else would it be? Now, if you don’t mind—”
“This is semen.”
“No it isn’t. How can it be? No one else has been in my room. You can ask the guard on the door.”
I fold my arms in a show of defiance to cover up how terrified I am that she’s discovered my sin.
“And do you really think I’m that stupid? To sleep with someone in my fiancé’s house? I’m a virgin, and I intend to keep it that way until Alessio decides otherwise. Now, if you don’t mind, this intrusion has given me a headache. Please leave.”
She lifts a sharp, accusatory gaze to me for a few slow, painful seconds then she whips the comforter off the bed and yanks the sheet, bundling it into her arms.
“No! I will—”
But, before I can stop her, she’s stomping out of the room with the proof I just lost my virginity balled up in her clenched and bitter fists.
My body vibrates with alarm. What is she going to do with my sheet? Why is she so pissed? Why does she care so much? Her behavior is beyond baffling.
I will need to speak to Alessio about this as soon as there’s an appropriate time. I can’t live under the same roof as this despicable woman who goes rifling through my closet and my bedclothes, ignoring my wishes.
And I know she took a pair of scissors to my gold dress.
Why would she take such an immediate dislike to me before getting to know me or even glancing in my direction?
Is she in love with Alessio? If she is, why should she care that I might have had sex?
I don’t buy that she thinks I’m plain disrespectful when she’s been acting disrespectful toward me since the day I arrived.
Just because she’s served this family for years does not mean it’s one rule for her and one rule for me.
I push off the bed post and go to the bathroom, careful to clean myself of everything except Nicolò.
When Nicolò comes to collect me from my room for dinner, I wait until we’re halfway down the stairs before whispering under my breath.
“The housekeeper suspects I had sex last night.”
He wraps his fingers around my wrist, halting me mid-step. “What? How?”
“She came into my room before I could stop her and saw the blood on the sheets.”
“Wait, she came into your room without announcing herself?”
“She always does. She doesn’t listen to me and she’s rude. As soon as I’m married I will ask Alessio to fire her.”
“Lina…” His grip tightens. “You’re not getting married.”
I almost roll my eyes but he tugs at my arm to drive home the point. When I glance up, his eyes are sharp slate and unyielding. It makes a shiver skitter down my spine.
His gaze softens suddenly. “How do you feel? After, you know—”
I lean in and drop my voice to a whisper. “Like a woman, Nicolò.”
His dark lashes blink, slow and sexy. “Does it still hurt?”
My heart swells. “Yes.” Then I rest my hand on his arm. “In the best way.”
He curls a strand of hair around my ear giving a slight shake of his head. “You are so beautiful and so brave. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”
A movement at the bottom of the stairs makes me flinch backward.
I jerk my head in that direction. “Let’s go. They’ll be waiting for us.”
We head down the stairs into the dining room. No one looks up as we enter, so I guess, with some relief, I’ve already become old news.
We take our usual places, make polite conversation and eat the food we’re served. Alessio ignores me for the most part, which I’m pleased about. I have nothing in common with him, nothing to say, and I feel like I’ve already used up my repertoire of small talk.
As the main course dishes are being cleared away by the servants, a commotion starts up outside the dining room.
I glance at Alessio whose face contorts into an expression of annoyance and then…
guilt? I follow his gaze to see Ria, the housekeeper, blustering into the room with my bedsheet bundled up in her fists.
I sit up and flash a terrified glance at Nicolò whose back straightens.
“Alessio…”
A collective gasp sounds across the table. The help is not supposed to address the head of the house by his first name.
“Sir,” she corrects, quickly. “I cannot keep this from you any longer.”
What? She’s had my bedsheet all day, yet she chooses to bring it to his attention now? To humiliate me?
She walks briskly to his side, standing right behind me, and holds up the sheet, my virginal bleed on display for the entire family to see. I clap a hand over my mouth in shock.
“What are you doing?” he grinds out between gritted teeth. Something about his tone makes me turn. He sounds desperate, exasperated almost. Certainly not angry with her. “What is this?”
She doesn’t face me. Instead, she points a finger about three inches from my face. “This is her first bleed. She’s no longer a virgin.”
I keep my voice as calm as I can. “That is not true. I got my period, and it is not fair that you are parading around with my sheet. It’s humiliating.”
Alessio looks sideways at me, then back to the housekeeper. “Ria,” he says, in a voice so soft my eyes widen. “Take the sheet away. We’re eating.”
Not doing as she’s been told, she simply holds the sheet out to him and starts prodding at the varying shades of red. “This. See this? It is not blood, sir. It’s semen. She has been sleeping with another man.”
A gasp cuts across the table from one of the women, and as if I’m not humiliated enough, Alessio peers at the marks on the sheet. Several seconds pass like an hour in the making, then he looks up at me with an expression of deep distrust.
“Is this true?”
The entire table has fallen silent, awaiting my response. I feel so completely cheap and alone and judged and embarrassed I want to run from the room, from the house, and throw myself off the nearest bridge.
In the corner of my eye, Nicolò shifts as if he’s about to stand. I dart a glare in his direction. I don’t want him to make this worse by drawing attention to himself too. There’s only one man here I would allow into my room, and I can’t bear the thought of these people working that out.
“No,” I say, solemnly. “It is not true. And as your future wife, I should be afforded the benefit of the doubt. I didn’t come here to be treated like an imposter, Alessio. I’m your fiancée, I am a virgin and I shouldn’t have to tolerate this behavior.”
“Bring Domenico in,” Ria rushes out. “He’s just outside. He was guarding her door. He’ll tell us the truth.”
Fear grips my heart as I hold Alessio’s gaze.
“Domenico!” she shouts. “Get in here.”
I look away from Alessio to pan my gaze across the table. I can’t believe these made men are accepting the housekeeper’s rude intrusions and bellowed orders. Unless…
Unless she’s not just a housekeeper.
The young man who’s been guarding my suite at night walks into the dining room, and he looks scared shitless. Immediately, his gaze finds Nicolò and I clench my jaw. Nicolò simply sits back in his chair and watches.
Alessio turns to Domenico and sighs. “Domenico, has anyone entered my fiancée’s rooms the last couple of nights?”
Domenico glances again at Nicolò. He may as well be pointing a finger at him. “No sir,” he answers. “No one at all.”
Alessio looks down the table at Nicolò, raising the hairs across my bare shoulders.
He doesn’t miss a thing. If he were to find out the truth, he would kill Nicolò.
That realization settles uneasily in my belly, making the food I've eaten turn sour. If Nicolò is at all bothered by this turn of events, he’s not showing it.
Then again, knowing him and his penchant for danger, he’s probably turned on right now.
I would roll my eyes if I weren’t so damn scared.
“If I find out you are lying, you’re a dead man,” Alessio grits out.
Domenico nods. “Of course, sir.” Then, he backs out of the room, far quicker than when he came in.
“Leave now, Ria. We’ll talk later,” Alessio says, dismissing her. No death threat for the housekeeper, I note.
As low chatter resumes, filling the room with a quiet hum, Alessio turns to me and my blood runs cold.
“I’ll deal with you later, Miss Castellano.”
I lower my dessert spoon so my trembling isn’t too obvious.
“I will not have you embarrass me. Do you understand?”
I blink. “But, I—”
He holds up a hand, dismissing my defense before it’s even out. “I’ve had enough for one night and a reputation to uphold. Don’t forget, I can still send you back and withdraw all my support for the Di Santos’. Don’t tempt me.”
Lovely. I always wanted to be spoken about like faulty merchandise. But that isn’t what’s got under my skin. My husband-to-be has just entertained the housekeeper’s account of something personal to me, in a room full of dangerous men and gossipy women.
Apparently, my word is worth less than that of a servant and a stain on a bedsheet.
But, as everyone else seems to know already, Ria is no servant. Ria is the ‘other woman.’