Hidden Bruises, hidden fears
1049 Words
Chapter 3: Hidden Bruises, Hidden Fears
Elena had never felt truly safe. The world had never offered her that luxury. From the orphanage to the café, she had always known she was on her own. No one would come to save her. No one would stand up for her.
That was just the way life was.
But tonight, as she scrubbed at a stubborn coffee stain on the counter, she could still feel Marco’s hands on her arms. The bruises hadn’t faded yet, dark smudges against her pale skin, each one a reminder of how close she had come to real danger.
She hadn’t told anyone. Who would listen? Who would care?
So she kept her head down, as she always had, and pretended everything was fine.
⸻
The café was nearly empty, the last customers filtering out into the cold night. Elena’s shift had stretched longer than usual, and exhaustion weighed heavy in her bones. Maria had already left, leaving her alone with Marco, something that normally wouldn’t bother her.
But after what had happened last night, she wished she could disappear.
“Elena,” Marco called from the back office, his voice dripping with fake sweetness. “Come here a second.”
Her stomach twisted. She hesitated, gripping the cloth in her hands. She could pretend she hadn’t heard him. She could leave right now and act as if she had misunderstood.
But she knew that wouldn’t end well.
Swallowing hard, she forced her feet to move, stepping cautiously into the back office. Marco leaned against his desk, arms crossed, eyes dark with something that made her skin crawl.
“You’ve been jumpy today,” he said, tilting his head. “Is there something wrong?”
Elena’s fingers dug into her apron. “No.”
He took a step closer. She resisted the urge to step back.
“You sure?” He reached out suddenly, his fingers brushing against the bruises on her arm. She flinched, and a slow, smug smile spread across his face. “You know, I don’t like it when my employees don’t show me gratitude.”
“I—I need to get back to cleaning,” she said quickly, trying to move past him.
But he blocked her path, gripping her wrist just tight enough to make her wince.
“I don’t think you appreciate how generous I’ve been with you,” he murmured. “Letting you stay here, giving you work when plenty of other girls would kill for this job.”
Elena’s pulse pounded in her ears. She yanked her arm away, stepping back until her back hit the wall. “I— I do appreciate it.”
Marco smirked. “Then show it.”
Fear wrapped around her throat, choking her words. She didn’t know what to do. Scream? Run? Would anyone even hear her?
Just as panic started to take hold, the front door chime rang. Someone had walked in.
Marco cursed under his breath and released her, stepping away like nothing had happened. “We’re closed!” he called, his voice laced with irritation.
“Elena,” a familiar voice rumbled from the front. “Come here.”
Relief flooded through her so quickly she almost collapsed. She knew that voice. Strong, deep, unyielding.
Domenico.
Elena practically ran out of the office, her heart still hammering against her ribs. When she stepped into the main café area, she found him standing near the counter, his sharp eyes scanning her with an intensity that made it impossible to hide anything from him.
He saw the bruises.
His entire demeanor shifted in an instant. His jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. The air around him grew thick with barely restrained fury.
“Elena,” he said again, softer this time. “Come here.”
She obeyed without thinking, moving toward him like he was the only safe place in the room. His eyes flicked down to her arms, where the faint outline of Marco’s grip was still visible.
“Elena, who did this?” His voice was calm, too calm, and that terrified her more than if he had shouted.
She shook her head quickly. “It’s nothing. I—”
Before she could finish, Marco stepped into the room, his usual smugness replaced by something closer to fear. He had clearly recognized Domenico.
“Sir,” Marco said, forcing a polite smile. “I didn’t realize you were here.”
Domenico didn’t even look at him. His focus remained on Elena, waiting.
Her throat tightened. She couldn’t say it. If she did, she knew what would happen.
But Domenico already knew.
Without another word, he turned away from her and stalked toward Marco, his movements slow, deliberate. The air crackled with tension.
Marco backed up instinctively, his bravado cracking. “Listen, there’s a misunderstanding here—”
Domenico moved fast. Too fast for Marco to react. One moment he was standing still, the next, his fist connected with Marco’s stomach, sending the man crashing into a nearby table.
The café went silent except for Marco’s pained gasps.
Elena’s hands flew to her mouth, shock freezing her in place.
Domenico crouched beside Marco, his voice so quiet it was almost a whisper. “You put your hands on her?”
Marco coughed, clutching his stomach. “It was a misunderstanding—”
Another punch. This time to the jaw. Marco crumpled to the floor.
Domenico stood up, straightening his jacket like nothing had happened. Then, he turned to Elena. “You’re not working here anymore.”
Her breath caught. “What?”
“I won’t let you stay in a place where someone like him can touch you.”
She shook her head. “I—I need this job.”
Domenico’s gaze softened just slightly. “I’ll take care of it.”
Her mind reeled. “But—”
“No more arguments.” He took a step closer, lowering his voice. “You’re mine to protect now, Elena.”
Something deep in her chest ached at his words. No one had ever claimed her before. No one had ever wanted to protect her.
She should be scared of him. He was dangerous. He was powerful.
But right now, all she felt was safe.
- Writer
