“Anything?”
The more the man repeats that word, the more sinful it sounds.
But I can give ‘anything’ and everything to keep my organs intact; I have no qualms about donating, but can't it be to someone I can wish well for? Can't it be by my will? Can't I have more of a say than this?
So, I guess in this case, ‘anything’ fits.
I nod slowly to the man’s repetition, and his chuckle echoes as he bends over to collect me from the ground.
"Boss, I can carry her."
One of the men in black around him offers, but he shakes his head.
"She is my dog now."
My arms surround his shoulders, accepting his demeaning term of me because if I can survive the night, then I will clutch on to the devil himself.
The man smells good, like aftershave and a subtle hint of expensive cologne.
His deep chuckle follows when I bury my nose against his chest.
“She even smells me like a dog.”
He utters, making me jerk my face away from him.
Shit. This is embarrassing.
“Well, don't stop now, doggy. I'm your new owner; you should know how I smell.”
Were I in my usual state, I would have pushed him off and reprimanded his cocky attitude, but I need him. Worse, the adrenaline in my veins seems to slow to a simmer because, for some reason, I feel safe.
"Mr D’Amico.”
My body freezes at the familiar voice.
" I am so sorry; I do not know how my patient slipped from her room. I will take her from your hands-”
“Doctor…”
The man holding me drawls in question.
“Doctor Harison.”
The doctor introduces himself.
“Yes, Doctor Harison, do you intend to steal my dog from me?”
I can sense the doctor’s hesitation; the man holding me must have enough power for everyone to treat his words as if they were real. If he says I am a dog, the doctor, no, everyone must refer to me as a dog.
"Uhm…forgive me Mr. D’Amico. The…um dog has an owner. Miss Olivia’s husband is looking for her."
My hands squeeze his shoulders when I feel his hands loosen against me.
"I-I asked for a divorce.”
The words were supposed to be a yell; I uttered them with all the energy in my being, but they sounded like a trembling whisper: Christ, why am I still shaking?
Am I truly not safe?
"Ma'am, you are bothering Mr-"
“Did you not hear me, or are you playing deaf for my amusement? The dog in my arms is mine. I own every inch of it, including its right to speak. If you speak to my pet, I will assume you are speaking to me rudely.”
"But...she is- I mean, your pet is due for surgery, Mr. D’Amico.”
“At one a.m.? Where is Professor Green? He approves of all procedures first.”
“Professor Green is... engaged, and this is an emergency."
Shaking my head from side to side in disagreement with the words of the doctor causes ‘Mr D’Amico’s’ hand to stroke my hair and press my head firmly against his chest.
"Speak to my men. John, get his name, ID and medical licence number. My dog is getting tense. I want to tuck it in."
I hate the way he calls me his dog but if he were to ask me to bark so that I stay with him, I would.
I cannot believe the lengths Vincent is pushing me to.
"Miss James, your husband is waiting for you at the lobby; you are a married woman; what you are doing is very disgraceful."
The doctor yells as the man holding me walks away.
I want to yell something at his words, but nothing leaves me when a slapping sound fills the air.
Wait? Who slapped who?
“Shh…sleep now, cagna.”
Cagna? What is that?
I barely get the chance to ask as my body follows his command as if I were hypnotised.
**
My eyes feel heavy, and my body as well, but the sterile scent forces me to jolt upright from the bed.
"No! I didn’t sign the papers!"
I scream on impulse before taking in the expensive-looking hospital room.
The pounding of my head brings my hand to the bandage on my forehead.
Right...the fall, Natasha and…I let a stranger take me to safety.
I am safe.
"Feeling better?”
A deep voice asks all too suddenly before my heart has the chance to settle its beating.
"Christ, you..."
My breath catches in my throat as I take in the man who looked blurry yesterday.
Isn't he too handsome?
"…You scared me."
I finish as I clear my throat.
His scoff is light before he takes off his coat and uncuffs his shirt in such a sexy way that I cannot help but follow his movements.
“It is too early to drool; besides, you have guests, cagnolina."
Cagnolina?
He doesn't await my response merely walks to the door and opens it. The two people seated outside stand and rush inside the room.
How cold! I have barely stretched to dismiss the fatigue hounding my body, and he let them in?
"Livy? What is the meaning of this!"
Vincent asks loudly.
"Do you have any idea how much we looked for you? How can you be this inconsiderate? You know Vincent’s mum is in the ICU."
Natasha joins in before I raise my hand to silence them.
"I want a divorce, Vincent."
“Get..."
Vincent begins in anger before he turns his gaze to my handsome but condescending saviour and lowers his tone.
"Let's discuss that later; first, let's get you back to your bed."
"You were planning on going ahead with the surgery without my consent?"
"My mother is in a bad way, Olivia; I-I didn’t have a choice!"
“I am in a bad way, Vincent, and you put me here!"
My hands push off my sheets to further explain my point without interruption.
"My knees are scraped because I had to physically crawl away from the rooms so that you wouldn’t harvest my-"
An irritated sound leaves his throat before he cuts me off completely.
"Think about this, Olivia, before you spout any more shit about a divorce. You are in a room alone with another man, and there are several witnesses. I am seconds away from granting your ridiculous divorce request, and with this kind of proof of an affair, I can guarantee you will walk away without a cent from me. So, let's go back to your room and talk like adults before-"
"I don't need your money. I have never needed your money."
I respond, and all too quickly, his face sours into a sneer before he turns to face Natasha.
“Livy, you don't understand what you are doing or how tough this economy is. I mean, you didn't even finish school; what will an almost thirty-year-old divorcee do on her own? Vincent gave you everything, and you can't even-”
"I'll bring the divorce documents next week, Vincent. Let's meet by the Café fountain near your office.”
I say, interrupting Natasha—she isn’t saying much anyway.
"You know what, Olivia? Fine.”
Vincent says.
"You won't last without me.”
With that, he turns out the door, leaving me with a smiling, handsome devil who looks more entertained by my misery than I am.
“You broke, cagnolina?"
He asks.
“I will pay you back, I promise."
I utter quickly, trying my best to keep my tears at bay and my legs still because God help me, I still want to run to Vincent and ‘talk’ until I ‘understand’ him—maybe listen until his sob story makes me yield to his reasoning, and I wind up on that cold operating table.
"Give me your contacts; I will reach out as soon as I finalise the divorce."
**
"You seriously think you can last a day without me or the funds-"
"I never needed your money.”
I answer Vincent with ease as I play with the coffee cup on the table. I ordered one, but I can't bring myself to drink it. ‘Next week’ reached too soon.
"Did you even love me, or were you only waiting to break me, Olivia? I gave you everything I had; all I asked for was for you to help my mother. All I-”
"You need to sign before I can leave, Vincent."
I remind, cutting him off.
If we start talking, we will never stop, and the longer I stay seated next to him, the more I want to ask, ‘Where did we go wrong?’.
"Cold-hearted bitch."
I still at his cold words and watch as his hands move swiftly to stain the white paper.
Three years. Three years of ‘us’ have been reduced to a blue stain on a dotted line.
"Try not to crawl back to me, and in case you are wondering, Natasha turned out to be a match. She will be donating a piece of her liver to my mother tomorrow. She is working but took some time off. Imagine that my friend did what my wife couldn’t."
“Looks like you should have married her, instead of keeping her as your mistress.”
He scoffs coldly.
"I guess so. I will never forgive you for this, Olivia."
The words ‘me too’ do not leave my lips because ‘my’ Vincent was threatening me.
‘My Vincent’.
The same ‘Vincent’ who cried when he saw me walk down the Aisle.
How quickly he has become a stranger.
His stand from the table is quick leaving me alone in the crowded place.
He said I was waiting to break him.
Is he-
My phone rings loudly in my pocket, so rather than let my loud thoughts consume me, I answer it.
“Yes?”
"Livy, Mum heard about your divorce. Sorry, siz, she is mad-mad. She called us all home for a mandatory meeting."
The call ends, leaving me staring at my device.
'Love does not exist for billionaires.'
Mother's words find me before a black Bentley, which seems to attract everyone's attention, pulls up from across the street.
The driver walks out to open the door while staring openly at me.
I never thought I'd be going back; then again, I never thought mother would be right.
Love doesn't exist, period.
“Miss Lawson, it’s good to have you back.”
The driver says with a slight bow when I near the car.
I feel the need to mention that, no Etienne and Anthony were harmed during the time skip in the last chapter; they were just posted away from the main family to Italy. Jokes on Christopher, they liked it because they were paid to laze around without the tension of him grumbling all over the place.I'd also like to ask your vote on a setting, would you love to read a transmigration, body switch or rebirth story?Rebirth would be when the female lead dies and goes back in time for whatever reason and purpose.A body switch would be the female lead going into another person's body. Maybe they were rich and ungrateful, and now they have entered the body of another woman who works under an obsessive billionaire, and there are consequences when they refuse to work and instead resign.Finally, transmigration would be if the female lead enters a novel they have read, whether they loved it or not. You know I love villains, so of course it’s the villain’s body that they enter. So, an example wou
Hi guys!We are finally at the end of the story!! Thank you so so much for reading, thank you for voting and thank you for loving the work and leaving a review; if you haven’t, please do.This last chapter is especially dedicated to anyone dealing with anxiety or depressive symptoms; it is a season, and it will pass. If your best is opening a window, open it. If your best is just basic self-care, taking a shower, moisturising, and putting the pyjamas right back on, do that. One step at a time. You are more loved and valued than you believe, and medication doesn't make you 'weak' or a 'failure'. Don’t be afraid to reach out, but more than that, don’t be afraid when people reach out, say 'yes' to that trip to the beach or bowling gig, or hell, to a walk just around the corner. We are all one.For my next work, it will still be a billionaire romance, and the male lead will still be a walking red flag. Aren’t they just the best? Plusss..how could I forget to mention smut will be present? I
"But-""It's fine; I'll be back soon.”I say reassuringly to Henry.I wave off his innocent concern despite half my face being covered by his hand.If he were to slap me the same way I slapped him, I'd probably end up in the ICU. Despite knowing that, I leave Henry with Etienne in the living room and follow him like a prisoner escorted to their sentencing.**"You went to the hospital. What for?"This is not the beginning of the conversation I expect, nevertheless, Christopher’s gaze as he closes the door behind me doesn’t leave my face."The headaches, but I have the medicine, so it's fine; more than that, I haven't seen Anthony in days. Did you change my guard?""Anthony?"Christopher asks with a frown, his mouth twisting as if he has eaten something rotten."Who are you calling 'Anthony'?""My- my bodyguard, with brown hair, you assigned him to me."I explain as if he doesn’t already have that information.What is this? What is he playing at?"Did I? And he told you his name? He an
Christopher D’Amico "Spare me."It took three hours to track Alessio and four hours to corner him like this.Yet this was the nonsense he was spewing?"No."Christopher answered.The gun in his hand had no more bullets, so he hit the back of Alessio's head, causing him to fall to the ground. Of course, Alessio didn't come easily, so the blood he tasted from his lips was his.Hopefully, it wouldn’t leave a mark, but even if it did, the wound was inside his mouth, so Elizabeth would not see it.Still, it didn't matter.Everything would end today, and he could head back to Italy to find another man to take his position.Positions in the mafia could only be replaced through death; there was no such thing as a fair trial, only retirement, that was hard-earned.Alessio held his head at the point of impact as if he thought his skull had shattered. There was blood coming from his head, but Christopher heard nothing crack, at least not yet.Still, there was little he could do to guarantee the
Blood. He smells like blood. No, not just smells; he has blood on his clothes.Closing my eyes and opening them, I focus on the bouncing bunny on the screen while Henry bobs his head to the tune.Before long, his little head sways left and right before falling to my stomach as he was resting between my legs, and a soft snore follows.Aww... how precious.His little hands curl against the fabric of my clothes.I should take him to bed; I think Christopher has eaten by now or should be eating, so there should be an interruption.My hands move to scoop him up, but a voice stops me."Is there a reason you are both on the floor when there are perfectly suitable seats next to you?""Henry and I used to sit like this in the old house.”I explain without turning back to him."Are you thinking of the good old times?”His words seem pointed, so I lift Henry in my arms and turn to him with a frown."What is that supposed to mean?”I ask, noticing the curls in his poorly dried hair.Wait, wasn’t
My gaze lingers on the orange glow of the streetlights while my mind centres on the sounds of the cars whooshing past us.My sex is fine now. Other than mild tickling sensations that will go away after three or four rinses in the shower. I am fine.Well, I guess the dull ache choking my throat is something else entirely."You've been quiet for a while now."Christopher comments as he makes a turn to the estate.Of course, I have been quiet. Yesterday, I went to bed and woke up believing that he liked me, that I could have him wrapped around my finger if I tried, and that gave me the confidence to say no to him at the club, and now, I realise that I had gotten ahead of myself.I almost ruined the marriage.There is no divorce, but if perchance he changes his mind, I'll have nothing. I'll lose the one thing I came into the marriage with—Henry.He doesn't like or love me; he is curious about me. Is that even the best way to describe it?Maybe it's more he thinks he likes me.Fuck... if I