Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Pensive Gentleman: Kabanata 91 - Kabanata 100

Marciano “Nicolas.” Her voice breaks in a way I’ve never heard before, with only one emotion pouring out of her—stark fear. She’s not just afraid, she’s terrified. And that rubs me off the wrong fucking way to the point where I almost regret bringing her here. Hearst opens his eyes, and when he sees her, a sly smile spreads across his lips. “Angelica.” She reacts to him instantly, taking a step back, unintentionally walking into my chest. A small gasp escapes her lips, and I place my hands on both sides of her waist to keep her steady, but all I feel is the quivering of her entire body. “He can’t hurt you,” I mutter in her ear, and her body stills. Just how much has she had to suffer at his hands, that just the sight of him is making her act this way? I hate it. “Finally! Someone worth seeing,” Hearst has the nerve to say. “This isn’t an ideal situation to see your father in, Angelica, but your husband is quite brutal, isn’t he?” She’s quiet and I understand it. Even

Angelica It feels like déjà vu waking up in Marciano’s room even though I’m a little confused about how I got here. The last thing I remember is that Marciano and I were talking in the living room, and that’s it. Spreading my arm out, I touch the empty side of the bed. It’s cold and without wrinkles, like no one slept on that side throughout the night. My brows furrow deeply. But how? Did he not sleep in here? Or did he not stay the night? I tell myself it doesn’t matter, but I deliberately stroll into the kitchen for a glass of water to check if he’s there. He’s not. Marching back to my room now feels like a humiliation ritual even though no one’s watching me. I head into the bathroom first for a hot shower. I didn’t have one yesterday, and I feel a certain prickling in my body, which is funny because when Marina offered to let me shower at hers, I declined. The hot water cascades down my body, leaving a burning trail everywhere it touches, but I don’t mind it. It hurts

Angelica “I think I’ll just go how I came,” I tell Marciano as we get to where the cars are parked outside. I can feel Bella and a few others staring at us from behind—no surprises there when I was practically dragged out of the mansion, following behind Marciano like a lost puppy.“With Gypsy and Ky,” I add, and watch how Marciano’s face morphs into a deep frown. He can’t possibly think I’ll ride with him after what just happened inside, after he tried to kiss me, and I almost let him do it.“No. You’re coming with me, and I won’t repeat myself.” I swallow hard, staring up at him. He doesn’t seem affected in the slightest bit, while my heart is beating in my stomach. Loud and hard.I hate it. But what I hate even more is that I only stand and watch him with my lips slightly parted, with nothing to say.“Come this way.” He starts moving towards a black Lamborghini parked at an angle that suggested patience wasn’t one of Marciano’s virtues coming here today.“But.” He stops, looki

Marciano Soft snores escape her lips. She’s deep in her sleep, her legs intertwined with mine, her fingers on my chest. The scent of vanilla filters through my nose, and I unconsciously squeeze her tight in my arms. She’s so small, but she’s somehow consumed me. I exhale and unwrap my arms from around her. She instantly lets out a sound of discomfort, most likely from the lack of warmth. I lift the cover to her chest and gently tuck her in, even going so far as to adjust her pink bonnet, which had shifted in the process.“Che diavolo sto facendo?” (What the hell am I doing?) I whisper to myself, shaking my head as I grab my phone and move away from the bed to my closet. The call from earlier this afternoon was Pietro. I’d canceled the call because not only has the bastard not earned the privilege to call me directly, but I didn’t want to take my eyes off Angelica for one second.He sent a text shortly after saying he has some goodies to deliver, which is slang for prisoners. It’s

Angelica “Is this really necessary?” I ask with a huff, my arms crossed against my chest, my eyes narrowed at the cause of my stress this morning.As expected, he doesn’t respond. He’s sitting cross-legged on the two-seater couch, taking a sip from the mug in his hand and staring down at his iPad with a squint.“Ah, excuse me Signora,” the old maid says in a voice I’ve never heard before. So calm, respectful, and very different from how I remember she sounds. She’s holding a bunch of my clothes still attached to their hangers in her hands. I move out of the way, letting her pass through into Marciano’s closet despite myself.This is my problem.I’d woken up to hushed noises, mostly from Marciano urging someone to work silently. I tried to sleep through it but when the movements became too much, I couldn’t help but open my eyes.Marciano’s room was in shambles with clothes and other accessories everywhere. When I’d asked him what was going on, he’d answered simply, in a tone that su