three weeks later...
Chase brought the perfect outfit for me to wear today, the day I get to leave this damn hospital—white high-waist sailor pants, a very low V-neck blouse with a matching white blazer, diamond studded heels and gold accessories to go. It screamed powerful, and was so fucking hot I was turned on just seeing myself in the mirror of my hospital room. I left my hair untouched which naturally waved along the small of my back like dark vines. I carried my Gucci square glasses as I took a long breath.
The door opened and I turned to see Lucas, wearing a black leather jacket and jeans. I'd say he was a little bit underdressed but it was a fine look I've never seen him in before.
Over the past three weeks, my memory went back, just like what Sigmund said. It all happened so fast. I'd eat my bre
Lucas~*~ Finally, we were leaving the suffocating air of the hospital. Almost a month, and I could finally go back to my version of a normal life without Sigmund breathing down my neck. I could get a real meal, a real shower, and get a real fucking sleep without watching and worrying about Mari. Yes, Mari. Tsk. Where do I start with this woman? Spending days with her changed things—changed me. I've watched her sleep sometimes, bought her meals she needed and wanted every damn fucking day, and snapped at the nurses whenever they made Mari squirm or groan. At first it was just me trying to be there for her in exchange for her putting her life in dan
The room was different when we got to the hospital to see my father. Unlike mine, the walls were mahogany, the room dim and the curtains blue. The bed was larger, looked comfier, and the beeping was more subtle and thin, and quiet. There were fresh flowers on top of the desk on the foot of the hospital bed—an arrangement of sunflowers and blood red roses. Although the room had been upgraded, it seemed that the person lying in it had worsened. He had gotten thinner, the wrinkles that were once barely there are now deep and refined. His cheekbones look higher and more hollow. The timely glow he used to have was replaced with paleness. I almost didn't recognize my own father. From what the doctor told me, he has yet to improve over the month he's been medically comatose. Doctor Cody, the doctor, told me that he stil
The following day, Lucas wasn't anywhere in the house which meant he's either out having a run or he's somewhere only God knows. I looked at the brightside. Alone and away from Lucas is what I needed after all those weeks spent with him. Theresa Wills, the British event planner I once liked, called me first thing in the morning before I had my coffee. Which means I was groggy and annoyed. "There aren't any changes, right?" she asked with her thick accent. "We're still going with the flowers and the lace?" "Yes, Theresa," I said nonchalantly as I made my way downstairs for breakfast. "Exactly what I told you." "Okay," she agreed, and although she could hear my irritation, she still kept it professional. "And the cake? Do you have any thoughts about it?"
Lucas ~*~ I paced on the mahogany floor of the study in my Milan penthouse. The television was buzzing in the corner of the room at how I 'assaulted' a press earlier today. My publicist has been ringing me since yesterday and telling me I should make a statement. But I was done with statements today. If it wasn't for Mari insisting on having a fucking statement released to the public, this wouldn't have happened. The woman was a pro at defying me and I was fucking steaming. My father called, asking why all of a sudden a mass of reporters were camping outside of Harriet's condo. So I had Jack brin
Lucas ~*~ By six in the evening the following day, I was already up in the air, the plane halfway through its journey. I was still fuming with anger at how Mari had ruined everything with one statement release. Now, all I wanted was to see her and put her in her place. Thankfully, everything was settled back in Italy. The scandal of how I attacked that journalist has died off thanks to my lawyers and publicist. But that didn't stop me from telling Harriet that she needed to get extra security. I knew that she wouldn't do it which was why I told Jack to stay back in Italy and keep tabs on her. Discreetly. When the plane landed, the rental car was waiting. So I didn't waste any time to go see Mari and give her a taste of her own medicine.
Lucas ~*~ Mari sobbed quietly on my shoulder. She hasn't stopped shaking and her grip hasn't loosen. We sat like this on the now-stained furry carpet of her room. Me cradling her trembling body as she weakly hangs on. And her state made me realize that she really needed to go see someone, and soon before she really lost her mind. "I'm sorry, Mari," I soothed, rubbing her shoulders and I did my best to calm her racing heart. Great fucking job, De Marchi. I lifted her up, knowing that her position was making her uncomfortable. I set her on the bed and she immediately curled into a ball, her eyes heavy and staring into nothing as tears rolled down her face. I sat beside her and watched her shaking figure, tucking a lock of her beh
I woke up like something was tearing my spirit apart from my body. I sat up from the now sweaty sheets, heart racing, perspiration dripping down my temples and back. Disoriented, I bring my hands to massage the growing pain in my eyes. "Are you okay?" I jumped from the sound of a hoarse voice in the corner of the room. I brought my hands down and I squinted at the direction of the voice. It was Lucas, in his white button down shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbows. His ankle was on his knees, lazily still in his shoes while sipping a glass of Bourbon. I stared at him wondering what to say or if I should say anything. I saw the guilt in his eyes, dark circles under them. "I'm thinking," he said, drinking the last of his drink before setting the glass on the table. He pushed himself up and refilled the glass. "You should see someone about your PTSD." "The o
I woke up with a wicked headache. Sunlight graced the room from the open balcony widow. That's weird. I remembered clearly closing it before passing out. I ignored it, thankful for the air that let out the stench of spilled wine and sweat. I threw aside the duvet, sitting up from the edge of the bed and examining the white room. The wine bottle was still there but it was placed neatly on the table by the door, the used glass still on the complementary table and the gun still discarded on the floor. For a moment I stared at it, angry at why I was afraid of it. Then came the memories of Freddy. The pain that never seemed to end invaded my thoughts, the smell of blood and the words that Freddy was saying. I wondered what would've happened if Lucas had really shot me.Air blew the balcony curtain and the sunlight reflected o