"Ciao," Martina's head popped through the bedroom door. She had a soft smile on her face. "You coming down now?"
"Yes," I stood up from the bed, straightening my dress in the process. "You go ahead, though." She looked at me hesitantly, and before she could protest, I added, "I am okay, Martina, don't worry."
"Va bene, donna." with a last hesitant smile, she closed the door and was on her way. [trans: okay, queen.]
Letting out a calming breath, I marched towards the mirror in the room and welled myself to take a grip. My hands unconsciously roamed over the area at the side of my torso, where Dominico shot me. Despite my having woken up more than two weeks now -I presume- the wound still slightly hurts whenever I moved. Underneath the clothes, it is wrapped professionally to not bled aga
