Chapter 53
Chapter Fifty-Three
A Time To Live And A Time To Die
Chiara
The dull pounding in my head is unbearable. It’s so heavy I feel like it’s reverberating through my entire body. I can sense the weight of my arms and legs, but they feel like they’re stuck in cement, and no matter how hard I try I can’t get them to move.
Everything is black, and I wonder if I’m blindfolded.
I slowly open my eyes to test my theory, to see I’m in a warehouse-type room, my back propped upright against something, the surface under me firm yet soft.
Feels like I’m on a bed, but it’s not ours; the familiarity of Raf’s signature woodsy cologne with hints of citrus and vanilla are missing.
The linen is not silky and expensive like his.
It’s thin and scratchy. That’s when I realize I’m wearing far less clothes than I should be.
The light coming through the high windows is blinding and sends an odd wincing pain through my body, forcing me to shut them again.
My heart is racing, but my breaths are shallow and ragged.
I go to move my hand once more to put it to my chest, to no avail.
I concentrate harder and try with all my might again, only to just manage a twitch of my fingers.
What’s happening to me? I’m obviously alive, but my entire body seems to have shut down.
My memory is foggy as I try to recall how I wound up here.
The last thing I remember is getting home and trying to find Nina, then everything turned black.
Home. Raf. Oh my God. I keep my eyes closed and try to swallow only to be met with a mouth that feels like it’s stuffed with cotton balls.
I try again, this time noticing a rancid taste like burnt caramel and rusted metal.
It causes me to retch, only to be assaulted by the stinging pain in my raw throat that feels like it’s got third degree burns.
Realization finally dawns. This is it. I’m really going to die.
All those times I wished for the swift relief of death, only to find it slow and torturous now that I finally have so much to live for.
But why the fuck would I expect anything different?
I got complacent. I finally felt like my life was on track—an amazing job, friends that feel like family, and Raf.
My husband. My heart. My home. Then BAM!
I’m the butt of the universe’s fucking joke again—now that it’s the last thing I want, I’m finally getting my wish to meet my maker.
I try to laugh at the irony of it all only to be hit with a wave of nausea that causes me to retch violently, propelling my body forward like it’s being dragged through wet cement.
Everything feels like it’s happening in slow-motion.
I don’t have anything in my stomach, so all that I manage to bring up is a small amount of bile that dribbles from the side of my mouth.
I can feel it hanging off my chin and desperately want to wipe it away, but my body is rejecting my brain’s commands.
I feel a cooling sensation on my flaming hot face and realize it’s my tears.
“Shhh, shhhhh, Bella Mia. You don’t need to cry.” The voice booms in my sensitive ears causing me to wince. Existing feels painful, like the alternative is beckoning me back into her arms. I can’t do that to him. I need to make it through this, whatever the fuck this is.
“It’s okay, I won’t hurt you. I love you. Remember, it was always going to be me and you.”
There’s someone sitting on the edge of whatever it is I’m on.
He brushes my hair from my face, and I let my head loll towards the sound of his voice, the last one I heard before everything faded to black.
I muster all the strength to open my eyes fully, pushing through the nauseating exertion of doing so and focusing on the bluest of blue eyes that no longer bring me the butterflies they once did.
Heat and chills spread through me all at once, and my body starts to tremble with the ferocity of the opposing temperatures.
“No. No. No,” I manage to say. “Alessandro, please. I can’t. Raf.”
He grabs me roughly by my hair. “Don’t you dare say his fucking name,” he hisses. “You can forget about him. You are mine, and we have lots of lost time to make up for.”
I stay silent and finally manage to look down to discover that I am indeed only dressed in my underwear. My tears come faster now. I knew he had a ruthless side, but he’d never projected it towards me in this way before. His hair is a bit longer now, and it’s his natural shade of a light brown.
“Baby, you’ve had me going around the bend,” he says, bringing his face so close we’re nose to nose.
“I was so excited when I finally found you in L.A., but imagine my disappointment to discover you had forgotten all about me.” His pupils are dilated, and he sniffs.
Sampling the product was always his vice.
“At first, I thought you were fucking the one I almost killed at that swanky law gala. Fucking Arty told me it was a clean hit,” he mutters, confirming Raf suspicions of Arty’s involvement.
“Luckily he survived because, as I’m led to believe, he’s actually Gigioliotti blood,” he continues, loosening his grip and twirling my hair in his fingers instead.
“Imagine the witch-hunt that would have ensued if I finished the job properly. Oof!”
My shoulders shake and my stomach flips at his admission. He’s the one behind Marco’s shooting. How did I not notice him that night?
“Then I suspected the Clark Kent type. That fucker was stuck to you like glue, but then I realized he worked for the one I almost killed—your cousin—and his job was to keep you safe. I spared him, because it meant there was someone else watching over you and keeping you out of harm’s way until I could execute the perfect plan with Julian to get you back for myself. ”
I whimper and pray to a God I stopped believing in but hope exists.
“But Julian fucked up my plans by pissing off your cousin, who then took the arranged marriage deal off the table, so I had to take matters into my own hands once more.”
I’m confused what plans he has that he thinks I’d ever want to be part of, but I decide silence is my best survival tactic.
My eyes have finally settled enough for me to properly look around.
It looks as if this might be where he’s been living.
There’s a table with some chairs, a little kitchenette, and the bed we’re currently sitting on.
There appears to be one door, and I have no idea where it leads, along with no idea of our location.
I have to hang onto the hope that I’ll be found; that’s all I have to give me the strength not to give in to the noise of defeat.
He keeps playing with my hair with one hand and trails his free hand up my arm, skimming the curve of my breast, over my clavicle, across my chest and up to my throat, loosely collaring me.
I swallow hard, even though it’s torturous to do so.
He groans. “God, I can’t wait to have this mouth on me again,” he says.
There’s an ugliness to him that I didn’t see before. His mouth looks cruel, his face, while still handsome, hard and lined with bitterness. I need to figure out a way to escape.
“Anyway, because Americans are such big mouths, I saw the news of you and your lawyer boyfriend blasted all over the internet.” He shoots me a disappointed look.
“I was especially unimpressed to learn that you moved in with him.” He places a bit more pressure, and I stifle a little sob.
“Don’t cry when you’ve brought this on yourself,” he warns harshly.
“I wanted to do this the easy way. I came to you, but you rejected me. Twice. You know what that does to a man’s ego,” he says, his grip on my hair tightening once more.
“So I thought I’d give that stupid cleaner the note and SIM. All she had to do was give it to you so you would know the truth, and I would get back what has always been mine,” he growls angrily. His moods are completely erratic, and his unpredictability sends chills down my spine.
“But no, somehow the hero lawyer got to it, fucked up all my best-laid plans, and even pretended to be you, so I had to come up with a new one. Fucking brilliant if I do say so myself. Patience is a virtue, Bella Mia, because now I have you right where I want you, and just in case you’re getting any crazy ideas, now that I have you, the only way you’re going to leave, dead or alive, is with me. ”
“Alessandro, why are you doing this?” I sob.
“So we could be a Mafia power couple. Run the girls and sex trafficking ring together. I know we share the same darkness,” he says. “And so you would learn the truth.”
“Truth about what?”
“I’ll get to that, but I think I want to wait ’til your cousin and his entourage arrive.
It’s going to be sweet to take out my hit list in one fell swoop,” he whispers.
“You can’t see them, because I would never let them have their eyes on you like this,” he says, gesturing to me in my underwear, “but this whole place is surrounded by my soldiers.
No one except those I choose will leave alive.
“But before I watch the light bleed from his eyes, I want you to see him squirm when I tell you the truth about your parents’ deaths and the lies your cousin has fed you. He’s the one that fucked us up, Chiara. He will pay.
“And you know who else needs to pay, for keeping us apart then claiming you for himself? That fucking holier-than-thou lawyer.”
He tugs me to my knees, and holding myself upright feels like lugging a ten-ton lead weight.
“I know how much you used to love to perform, baby. What do you say? Let’s give the lawyer the best fucking show of his life.”
“Alessandro, I-I-I can’t…I love him.”
It’s the wrong thing to say.
“You love him, huh,” he taunts calmly.
As though a switch has been flicked, he stands and grabs me by my breast, squeezing and pulling at my nipple to the point of pain.