The Alpha's Chosen Bride

CHAPTER TWO: Bruises That Don't Heal

Sunset Fairchild hadn't noticed the man staring at her and had she not plowed into him by accident coming out of the locker room, they probably would have gone the rest of their lives without ever coming in contact. As it was, she was briefly jolted by the blue of his eyes and the sunlight glowing off his body, making his sweat glisten like tiny prisms of color. She was blinded momentarily by his brilliance and then it was gone. She felt foolish because of her momentary lapse and walked away as if nothing had happened because nothing had. Sometimes she could be so taken in by temporary beauty that she thought it was real, but no one knew how fast beauty died. It was only an instant and then it was gone, leaving only a shadow of what once was.

She tried to forget him and worked even harder than usual despite the pain of her legs. She put on the sweetest voice she knew to keep her legs moving. Tori Amos reminded her that there were no saviors, no real men gleaming in the afternoon light that would save her from her fate. No, those were fairy tales and she had given those up a long time ago.

Still, even as she closed her eyes to blot out the world around her, his blue eyes staring with shocked awareness were all she could see. There was no time of peaceful blankness when the world went away. Still, even if with his blue eyes staring at her, she didn't feel any disquiet. It was as if he gave her peace. She kept the pace of the stairs and imagined his body still glistening, holding her, cooling and heating her body at once. It was a nice fantasy and it harmed no one.

She could live a thousand lives in her mind. She'd learned the trick as a child when she escaped her father's shouts, her mother's screams and the blood that ran down her face and legs. She'd learned to hide bruises, the important ones anyway, the ones that led to questions. The ones she currently held were self-inflicted and didn't count for anything except annoyance. The ones from before though, those had been painful to receive, painful to see and what came afterwards was even worse than the bruises. She'd take all the bruises any day.

Still, dream men didn't leave bruises on you or anyone else, she reasoned silently. She could dream about him as much as she wanted. Her dream s***h real man had just taken her face in his hands when her phone buzzed on her hip and Tori quit singing about a light sneeze. Her eyes popped open and she pulled the emergency stop on the stepper. She pulled out her phone to see her sister's face on the screen. It could be nothing or it could be WWII. She hesitated while she stared at her sister's smile. It didn't matter which it was, she had no choice. She answered.

"Sollie?" Trish asked, as if she thought for a moment there was no one there. Sunset's stomach clenched in fear at the tone of her sister's voice and she climbed off the stepper. "What's happened?" There was silence on the other end until Trish finally answered, "Can you watch Giovani? There's something wrong with my blood sugar."

"On my way."

With that, the beautiful stranger left her mind, and the comfort of her day dream was gone, though she turned one last time to see him still staring at her like she was the last glass of water in a desert. There was longing in that gaze that she recognized. It was a man that wanted to follow her into the night, no matter what that meant. She'd seen that hunger; knew that hunger intimately. Few people ever had that kind of freedom, but Sunset was determined that one day she would. It was almost within her grasp, she only had to finish school. She needed her degree and then she could leave. She could walk away from this place and not feel guilty at all. She laughed at herself, knowing what a fiction that dream was. Patricia and Giovani would always be her responsibility, but she knew she would find a way to protect them. Then she would be free.

Trish looked pale and shaky by the time that Sunset arrived. Giovani was in his play pen crying to get out, but Trish didn't have the strength to lift her own child, she could barely make it to the door. She had developed gestational diabetes, which unfortunately turned into the real thing after Giovani's birth. Sunset went into action and took the supplies out of the refrigerator before Trish raised a hand and said between chattering teeth, "I tried. Nothing works. Hospital time."

Sunset checked the baby's bag for supplies; diapers, wipes, bottles, formula, toys and blankets. It was good enough. She ran to Trish's room and grabbed the bag that had always been kept packed ever since Trish's pregnancy. She snapped a still slightly upset Giovani into his car seat and then put an arm around Trish's waist, lifting them both up at one time. Trish slipped her arm around Sunset's shoulder and they made their way to the door where Trish held onto the door frame as Sunset maneuvered her into the seat of the Mustang.

Sunset had learned the perfect mix of speed and caution when it came to getting Trish to hospitals a long time ago. This time, however, she was fighting to keep her cool as she bit out, "Where's Sergio?"

Sergio Giambanco was Patricia's husband and the biggest, cheating, lying, gambling, w*****g creep to ever step foot into a casino. His family was rich, but not in a good, hard-working way. They were mafiosa, dangerous and unpredictable. He had swept beautiful Patricia off her feet and who could blame him? Trish had been a model, a good student and on her way to a business degree when Sergio had spotted her after a shoot in the Bahamas.

He married her, impregnated her and then left her to seek out newer models. However, getting rid of Trish would be expensive, so he did just enough to keep her in the marriage. Trish was also frightened of him, though she wouldn't say it. He never introduced her to his family, but she pretended that her life was perfect. She made excuses for his leaving, but the moment he walked out she was begging for him to come back. It was twisted, but it wasn't Sunset's marriage and so she mostly stayed silent. Mostly. It was days like this when she hated Sergio and his disgusting family.

Sunset knew something about the Giambanco family wasn't right, though. It wasn't something she could put her finger on or point out. It was something in the way people would suddenly stop talking when she entered a room or the fake smiles that were everywhere.

Once again, she said nothing, but when her sister called, she came. Why? Because when she was in trouble, Trish was there. For example, Trish kicked a girl's door in once for saying nasty lies about Sunset. Trish and Sunset were like soldiers that had been in the same trench their entire lives. They kept each other alive, had each other's backs and when things got ugly, they learned to adapt. Sergio was Trish's weakness and so that meant Sunset had to be the strength.

Sunset wasn't the ugly sister, nor was she stupid. She simply didn't like being on display the way Trish did. Trish wanted attention, needed it and things got ugly when she didn't get it. Since Giovanni's birth, Sergio had ignored his wife, whose health had been somewhat delicate because of her diabetes, and had become remarkably worse since giving birth to Giovanni. Her blood sugar sometimes refused to stabilize and often due to her own alcohol consumption. Food was her enemy, vodka had become her friend. Patricia was on a downward spiral and, somehow, Sunset had to stop it. Sergio was going to have to take care of his wife and she didn't care how she had to make it happen.