Sedated Donna, Awakened Heart of Stone

That nerve blocker. The one that knocked me out for six months.

It had one upside. It cured my insomnia.

Late at night, a cold body pressed against my back. A warm kiss landed on my shoulder.

I snapped awake. I grabbed the sheets and scrambled to the corner of the bed, sizing up the man in the dark.

Julian's hand hung in the air.

Then her smell hit me. Chloe's sickly-sweet perfume. It made my stomach turn.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you." He pulled his hand back, his voice low.

I looked at his face in the dim glow of the wall lamp.

The Don of the Marchetti family.

The uncrowned king of Chicago's underworld.

I used to be obsessed with him. The whole city knew how crazy I was for him.

But looking at him now? Nothing. Just ash.

His face did nothing to me anymore.

I scooted back, avoiding his touch.

Julian's expression changed instantly.

"Chloe's morning sickness was bad today." He sat up straight, a crease between his brows. "She was miserable, so I stayed in the guest wing a little longer."

My throat was tight and dry.

"You should go back," I said. My voice was hoarse, but my tone was considerate. "She's pregnant. She needs you. Go be with her."

Julian's face darkened in a second.

"Valeria, are you still holding this against me?" He moved closer, his shadow falling over me. "I had the doctor put you to sleep because I didn't want you to get hurt! If you had seen me exchange rings with her, you would have lost your mind!"

He stared at me. "Let it out. Don't bottle this up and make yourself sick."

I looked at him calmly and shook my head.

"I have no complaints."

"A life debt." A bitter smile touched my lips. "You pay it in blood."

A thought crossed my mind.

She has a late-stage brain tumor. A few months left, tops. And she's risking it all to carry a child for a scumbag like Julian. I almost feel sorry for her.

A vein pulsed on Julian's temple.

He lunged. One hand clamped around the back of my neck. He slammed me against the picture window.

The cold from the glass seeped through my nightgown.

His eyes were bloodshot. His heavy breath hit my collarbone.

"You really don't give a damn, do you?" he demanded, staring into my eyes.

The old me would have wrecked his study. Clawed his eyes out.

But the drugs had drained all my energy.

I leaned back against the glass, meeting his gaze.

Then, I slowly nodded.

Julian's pupils shrank.

He spun around, grabbing the bottle of red wine he'd brought for us.

CRASH!

The bottle shattered against the wall. Red wine sprayed everywhere.

He threw the door open, then slammed it shut behind him.

I rubbed my aching temples. This was ridiculous.

The nerve blocker cured my insomnia, but it didn't erase the memories.

At seven, someone at my private stable spooked my horse on purpose.

Julian grabbed a riding crop and whipped the man's left eye blind on the spot.

At fifteen, some idiot at a ball made a crude remark about me.

The next day, Julian and his men cut off the cash flow to every casino their family owned.

We watched the northern lights from a yacht in Alaska.

We had each other's initials tattooed over our hearts.

He once pressed a Glock to his own temple. Didn't even blink.

"I'm loyal to one person. Valeria. If I ever betray her, let the streets have me."

That vow. It sent a shiver through me.

He was right. He wasn't far from death.

Outside, rain poured down, hammering against the glass.

Later that night, I fell into a long nightmare.

Our wedding night. He brought Chloe to the estate, saying her bar was trashed by rivals and she had nowhere to go.

Later, I found Chloe in a nightgown, handing him a towel in the gym.

They whispered to each other in the dark of the private theater.

The estate bodyguards started a betting pool on when Chloe would take my place.

I took a golf club to the leg of the guard who started it, then went to Julian for an explanation.

He just looked at me, his eyes colder each day.

Then Chloe "accidentally" fell in the pool, came up choking, and cried that I pushed her.

Without a word, Julian had me locked in the pitch-black wine cellar for three whole days.

At the end of the dream, Chloe was crying over a cheap platinum necklace, claiming it was her mother's, and that I'd flushed it down the toilet.

Julian pointed a finger in my face, screaming that my jealousy was twisted.

In the middle of the fight, a sharp slap hit my face.

I woke up with a start, my face cold with tears.

The room was bright.

A maid opened the door, cautiously carrying a tray.

"Donna, the Boss just had this couture gown flown in from Paris for you. And this pink diamond bracelet, your old favorite..."

The box opened. The glare of the diamonds was blinding.

I didn't even look. I just leaned back against the headboard.

"Get it out of here," I said coldly. "I can't stand the sight of it."