03| Saviour

1847 Words
03| Saviour. ~~~~ If anyone had told me a few hours ago that my life would come to this, I would have thought the person was crazy. Well, this is crazy. I creep away from the broken wall, the wind rushing into my apartment as bullets rain down on it, breaking the already broken wall more. My scream is drowned out by the sound of breaking vases and glasses. I manage to find cover behind the kitchen island. My pulse pounds in my ear, drowning out all thought except the need to hide. I pull my knees to my chin, hugging them as tight as possible, holding my breath until it is over. Soon, silence descends over the room, I slowly push myself out, trembling as I scramble for the door, ignoring the stinging pain on my ankle, the moment I push the door open, my body knocked into a hard chest, I shriek, rushing back, forgetting my sprained ankle, my leg twists to the side. I slipped and stumbled back, almost falling to the floor, but warm arms catch me before I do. “Calm down, it's me?” The moment I look into his cold ocean blue orbs, relief wash through me. Valentino's glances at my ruined apartment, he doesn't seem the least surprised, instead, he scans me. “Did you get shot?” I shake my head, Valentino nods. “You are coming with me.” His voice leaves no room for argument. “No, I want to return to America.” Valentino pauses. “You should have done that last night, it's too late now.” “No.” I shake my head. “You don't get it, I will die if I stay here.” “I can keep you safe.” I eye him, showing my distrust. “You are one of them, how can I be sure you won't hand me over?” “You are my nephew's wife.” “You killed your own father.” the word boldly comes out of my mouth, maybe it's the adrenaline or what I have just been through, but I don't seem to care. Valentino glances into the room once again. ” Little Purple.” My breath hitches at the nickname, he is the only one who calls me that. Valentino moves forward, his thumb caresses my cheek. “The moment I leave here, you will be shot dead.” I gulp, eyeing my scattered living room. “I will survive.” The word sounds like a lie in my own ears.“I can leave… I…I can return to America.” “You are an easy target in Sicily, why would America be any different?” “My family can protect me, the Orsini family can…” “Do you also believe that?” I gulp. “The moment the Orsini family finds out about this, you will either be locked up in your house, killed or be handed over by them.” “No, I…I” he was right, but I don't want to go with him, why does he care? “You can take your time to think about it. For now, you will come with me.” He leaves no room for agreement, I eye the room once again, then I nod. Just as he is about to pick me up, I stop him. “I can walk by myself.” I insist, gritting my teeth. “Don't argue with me Purple.” he warns, then he picks me up and carries me to his car. After placing me in the car, Valentino closes the car door, I rest my head against the seat, noticing how shaky my body is, I hug myself, curling up. I can hear Valentino's voice from outside the car, though a part of me trusts him, there's still a part of me that reminds me of the possibility that he might be part of those who want me dead. But he is different, he wouldn't hurt me… right? The door opens again and Valentino sits in the driver seat, I notice his chauffeur is missing today. The car instantly roars to life, I keep my gaze out the window, not saying a word, if only I had just stayed home like Mom wanted, maybe I wouldn't be going through this. Mom believes I am here because I want to cheat on my husband, I remember how long it took me to persuade her. If anyone finds out about any of this, especially about me staying close to or speaking to Valentino, I might be forced to quit painting, just like I quit writing back then. My eyes close at the thought. It is either I handle this myself or end up being forced to stay home and be a house wife to a man I have never even spoken to. Valentino is right, if my family finds out about this, I will be locked up. And if the Orsini family does, I might end up dead. I knew I was stupid for coming to Italy, but America wasn't any better either, at least I had some freedom here. Until the masked man came in and whisked it away. It's too late for regret now. Soon, we are slowing down in front of a medium sized, insanely beautiful house surrounded by a thick layer of trees. A large building is right behind the house and it opens as the car draws closer, almost fifty cars are parked inside, lit up with dimmed white lights. He parks, I stay still, heart thundering in my chest, fear and nervousness bubbling inside me, I don't want to get out of the car. He gets out and opens my door, I stare at the headboard as he picks me up again. “You will sleep in the guest room.” I don't reply to him, he places me on the bed, then he sits at the foot of it, looking at me. Even though I don't trust him, I know that he has no reason to lie to me. “The man trying to kill me, do you know who he is?” "Yes." "Can't you tell him to stop?" "If I could control every single underboss in Sicily, you wouldn't have seen anything in that parking lot, nor would you be sitting on my bed like a frightened kitten." "You know?" I question, referring to what I had seen at the parking lot. "The man who died is one of my men." "What happens now? I still have four months of my Air programme left." "Leave that to me, for now.” He eyes my ankle. “Focus on recuperating.” “What do you gain from this?” I decide to ask the question stuck in my throat. “You.” he replies without hesitation. “Me?” my brows pinch. “You in my house.” “I am your niece in-law.” I remind him, disbelief edged in my voice. “I know you feel it too.” His eyes are locked on mine. “ The same attraction I do. You always did” “No, I don't and I never felt attracted to you.” I insist, staring at his inked hand. “ I will not sell myself in exchange for protection, I am no longer a teenage girl who needs your protection anymore.” His jaw clenches. “I don't need to buy you, Purple, I would rather have you begging to be mine.” I shiver at his word, my thighs pressed together. Why am I feeling like this? “I am not yours and I will never be.” I snap my gaze back to his. “Then stop eyeing me like you want me to bend you over and f**k you untill you remember who you belong to.” I gulp. “I… I am not.” His lip curls. “Is this amusing to you?” “No Amber, but you are alive, I gain satisfaction from knowing you are alive and under my protection.” “You are delusional if you think I will cheat on my husband, he might be in a coma, but I am still his wife and there is no way I am doing anything that will ruin my marriage.” “I am not asking you to do any of that.” “Are you seriously comfortable with stealing your nephew's wife?” My voice rises. “I don't care whose wife you are, you belonged to me the moment I set my eyes on you.” “Then why didn't you marry me then? You could have easily demanded that I marry you instead of my husband, why didn't you?” I clutch the bedsheet. “Why didn't you come back as you promised?” I hiss. “You didn't want me to.” he replies. “And I did come back, but you refused to come with me.” My mouth snaps shut, realizing I had indeed declined his offer to go with him. Without looking at him, I reply. “I am declining your offer once again, I am willing to forget that this conversation ever happened.” “I am unwilling.” He insists. “I have given you enough choices, now, it's my turn to call the shots.” Valentino stands up, and adjusts his cufflink. “ Get some rest, My men will bring your luggage in a few hours.” After saying this, Valentino leaves. It's just mid-day, but I already want to get the day over week. Why would Valentino suddenly want me? He doesn't seem to care about the consequences of his words, how does he think we would be looked upon If anyone finds out? “I should never have agreed to come here, it seems I will have to leave once it's morning.” I mutter softly. Since yesterday, I have not had a single moment of rest, not even a tiny bit. Even now, I want to just close my eyes and sleep but sleep evades me. After a while of sitting there and doing nothing, my stomach rumbles, reminding me of the fact that I haven't had breakfast. Unwilling to sit there and wait for someone to bring me my food, I push myself up the bed, gritting my teeth against the pain. With the wall as support, I manage to get to his living room. Every part of his house screams wealth, for some reason, I prefer the dark, oppressive interior of his house to the bright suffocating one back at my house. That house is the ideal existence of loneliness. Just me, my paintings, my maids, and Briana who only visits when needed. I open the refrigerator, ready to take some water to drink when footsteps rushes towards my direction. I turn back in time to be face to face with a woman, a frying pan clutched in her hand. “Who are you?” She demands. ~P-Lia~
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