CHAPTER 18

Kiki

Before I even open my eyes, I can smell the cold, sterile smell of the room. I try to move my fingers, but they don't respond immediately. I open my eyes slowly. The white light from the ceiling is annoying, blurring my vision. I try to recognize the place, but nothing seems familiar. Next to the bed, a machine beeps at regular intervals, breaking the silence. The sheets covering my body are soft and comfortable.

I notice the oxygen mask on my face and instinctively reach up to remove it, noticing my bandaged hand. My body is heavy, aching. My head throbs and pulses. I turn my face slowly, but I can't see any windows. I can't tell if it's day or night. The machine's beeping starts to become more irregular, reflecting my nervousness. I try to sit down, but the pain is cutting through my body and I give up.

Where am I?

“You woke up…”, a female voice sounds next to me, soft in its French accent.

“What happened?”

I ask, feeling the nervousness grow. Vague memories begin to invade my mind: James, the house, the torture, the stairs... my heart is racing. I gather all my strength and try to stand up at once, ripping the wires off my body in a hurry.

“I need to get out of here!”

“You're not in any condition yet”, the woman tries to stop me, “I ask you to calm down, the doctor will examine you.”

“I don't want to!”, I rebel, pushing away the hands that are trying to restrain me, “Don't touch me!”

A knock on the glass catches my eye. I look in the direction of the sound and see Blanca on the other side, waving her hand. Confused, I stop struggling as I see her enter the room, wearing a sweatshirt and pants. Her haggard look makes her look ill.

“Miss de la Rosa, you should be in your room”, the nurse complains.

Blanca pats the air in her usual impatient way.

“Of course not. I'm fine. Can you provide chocolate pudding? It's not on my diet.”

“I don't know the reason for the restriction, but it's certainly for health reasons”, the nurse replies, clearly irritated.

Blanca rolls her eyes.

“I can't stand this place any longer!”, crossing her arms. She approaches me, sits on the bed and holds my face with her hands, “Oh my God, Kiki, I was so worried!”

“What happened? Why am I here?”, my voice comes out weak, but full of urgency

Blanca looks at the nurse, who is still standing there, watching us seriously.

“Can you give us a minute?”, Blanca asks, forcing a sweet smile.

The woman snorts and leaves the room.

“I thought I'd lost you!”, Blanca exclaims, her eyes shining.

Just seeing her here calms me down. My body relaxes, although the confusion continues.

“What are you doing here? Was it a liver complication? It took a while to get here, didn't it?”, I ask, worried.

“He's not on his best days, but that has nothing to do with it. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Can we talk about this later? Right now you need to rest.”

“No. I need to go back and put an end to all that.”

“Kiki, you can't leave! You almost died!”

“Where's Dom? Is he all right?”

“He's fine. Better than both of us put together. I mean, apart from the bruises and the nervousness about what happened to you. It was tough, poor guy. You were beaten up like a bastard, then they said you'd died... at least that part was a mistake, right?”

“What?”, I get even more confused.

“You were presumed dead in the United States. Maurice told me in the worst possible way. He came into my room, opened the door and said that Dom hadn't been able to help you. I shrugged, so far nothing new, given all his history... I asked where you were and he said: ‘it depends on whether she's being judged from above or below’. I asked if you were in prison and he, without a shred of sensitivity, said: ‘she's dead. Pull yourself together’”, she imitates Maurice's posture as she says it. Blanca sighs, annoyed, “I took the lunch tray and threw it at him. No remorse!”

“Is Maurice alive?”, I ask, surprised.

“Yes. And he's having coffee with Dom now, because he won't leave your side and he only went because Maurice gave him a hard time.”

I let out a sigh of relief.

“He was discharged the day before yesterday. And I'm still here, I'm pissed!”

“Why are you here, Blanca?”, I change the tone of the conversation, trying to understand.

She looks up at the ceiling, exasperated.

“Maurice is my lawyer.”

This information took me by surprise.

“Since when? He was your last option.”

“But he's the best. I was at his house sorting out Maria Alba's hearing. Then Lohan walked in and shot him. He was going to do the same to the brat, but I did what anyone would do: I threw myself in front of her.”

“I'm proud of you. You put your tantrums aside and did something sensible.”

Blanca laughs wryly.

“Do you know what's worse? After everything, she came into my room, looked me in the eye and said: ‘thank you, but you only did your adult duties. If I were you, I wouldn't do the same. Think again’. And she left.”

I can't help laughing, but the movement makes my ribs hurt too much. I stop instantly, breathing hard.

The door opens with a bang, and Dom's gray eyes meet mine, filled with a worry that he has never made so evident. Maurice stands to the side, his posture unwavering, as if nothing bad has happened. Dom moves towards me and I try to get out of bed, but my body sags to the side, I don't have the strength to complete the movement. He holds me, pulling me into a firm embrace. Then he pulls me away a little, staring at me, as if recording every detail of this moment. His gray eyes are attentive to any reaction from me. I return the embrace, feeling protected and relieved to know that he's okay. His fingers press against my skin, with no intention of letting go. His perfume envelops me, bringing a delicious familiarity.

“Oh, not again…”, I hear Blanca say.

I glance over and see her getting out of bed. Her feet touch the floor and she walks towards the door. Before she can get out, as Maurice is still at the door, I hear her vomiting, followed by his voice:

“That's the second time you've thrown up on me today. I'm beginning to think it's no coincidence.”

“It's because your face makes me sick”, Blanca retorts, leaving the room, with Maurice following behind her.

“Dom, I need to see Blanca”, I whisper, my voice still weak.

“No. Shhh. You're staying here, dolly.”

I agree, knowing that Blanca is in hospital, right?

“What about James? What happened?”, I ask.

Dom seems to stiffen. His arms squeeze me even tighter, and his breathing becomes heavy.

“I killed him”, he says, with disturbing calm.

I move away just enough to be able to face him. A mixture of relief and chills run through my body as I remember everything I went through with James.

“He was my husband.”

Dom holds my face, stroking my cheek with his thumb.

“You said it well. He was.”

“Dom... Clara…”, I say, slowly.

“She no longer exists.”

“She does. And I need to sort it out…”

He promptly denies it.

“No. It's already done.”

I hold his face with my uninjured hand.

“I need you to understand me. Now more than ever.”

“What do you mean?”

“I need to know who I was. And I needed to do it alone.”

“No. After everything, I don't want you to go back there, Kiki.”

“I must resolve the issues with the company. You can't just leave without them coming after you.”

“I've sorted it out for you. I'm the new owner of Dominus. In fact, part of James' shares are now yours.”

My gaze searches his, trying to absorb what he has just said. How far has he gone for me?

“I don't want to live with Clara's ghost. I'm going back to the United States.”

He walks away, running his hand through his hair, looking at everything around him except me.

“It looks like you've already made your choice. But this time, I'm not going to do anything.”

It's as if I don't even believe the words he says. His incredulous countenance cuts my heart.

“I've been through a lot of shit, but these days, Kiara... — He emphasizes, using my name”, because I'm not going to call you Clara. Was it fucking insanity for you to wake up and tell me you're leaving?

“It's not like that, Dom…”, I try to argue, feeling my heart heavy. The monitor next to me shows the accelerated rhythm of my beats.

“I don't want to know. I can imagine everything you've been through with that bastard, from the state you're in. But you have no reason to put yourself through that. I killed everyone who stood in your way. I protected you!”

“You knew who I was and didn't even bother to tell me. In fact, how long did you hide it?”

“Does it make a difference now?”

“It does. Because you lie, manipulate and…”

My voice breaks. I open my eyes wide, feeling the chaos inside. He makes me feel things I can't explain. It's as if my heart is going to burst out of my chest just by being near him. It's as if I don't need a place, because he is my place. These sensations, which used to scare me, are now all I want.

“And?”, he asks, leaning towards me, his gaze fixed on mine. The monitor goes off, giving away my tension, “I lie, I control, I manipulate, I'm an asshole, I'm selfish and whatever else you want to put on your little shit list”, he says, his voice laden with intensity, “But you can never say that I don't love you. Because I'd fight the whole world if I had to in order to protect you. So, if you want to go, go.”

I blink several times, trying to process what he's saying, organizing my thoughts. He turns, heading for the door.

“Dom!”, I call him.

He stops, looking back.

“I love you too.”

The words escape my lips as if they had been trapped for a long time. His gaze softens, taken aback. He doesn't answer, just leaves the room, slamming the door as he goes, making me jump with a thud.

I've been in hospital for over a week now, but I'm recovering well, one day better than the next. Today is my third day in the room and the doctors are already considering a possible discharge. My body doesn't hurt so much anymore, and I feel better. I've had the necessary tests to check that everything is in order, and most of it is, except for the two ribs that are still bothering me. But just the fact that I can regain a bit of dignity, like taking a long bath and moisturizing my hair, makes me happy. Not to mention the fact that I can do things on my own, without the nurses on top of me all the time.

Dominique hasn't left my side, he's been here with me all night. But today he had to go to the casino, since he's been away for so long. We don't talk about my move to Malibu anymore, but the mood is still unstable. It's as if he's preparing for my departure. I don't know how long I'll be there, but I understand how Dom feels. If I were him, I'd be the same. Imagining my life without him isn't the best scenario, nor what I want, but I feel that if I don't do it now, I'll never feel good about myself. So much has happened, you can't pretend it hasn't.

Berta came to visit and brought me some clothes. She took the opportunity to tell me that she was looking after the animals and apologized for not having done anything at the time of the attack. But what could she have done? James would have killed her without thinking. If she had tried something, she might not even be here now.

I'm sitting still, reading, finally finishing the saga of the hottie from the academy. Arthur is getting married. I've been juggling one reading with another, since there's not much to do here and I'm not going to walk down the corridors looking like I've just come out of a horror movie. I look like Frankenstein on his worst days, patched up in every way. I can't wait to get my neck done and get rid of the bruises. I look awful. The door to the anteroom opens and Blanca comes in with a paper bag in her hands. She walks into the room, wearing a navy blue sweatshirt, her blonde hair up in a bun and her face still haggard, but with a mischievous smile. She waves the package at me.

“I stopped by the cafeteria downstairs. I ordered a salad for you and a medium-rare hamburger for me.”

I close the book and put it on my lap. Blanca approaches, handing me the bowl of salad along with a soft drink.

“Thank you.”

I've been trying to eat alone. Sometimes I succeed, sometimes I don't. There are times when I panic and throw everything out... I'd like to understand what happened to me. That's one of the answers I need to know about Clara.

“I miss eating something good. The next one will be a huge plate of paella with lots of seafood and no one will stop me.”

“Blan, take it easy. I've learned that your liver is more complicated than you're letting on.”

Blanca pats the air.

“Kiki, don't worry. It's just a cold. They don't know what's wrong with me. They've even done a pregnancy test.”

I roll my eyes.

“And you're pregnant?”

She laughs.

“If I ever take a pregnancy test this calmly and tell you about it while I'm eating a hamburger, you can say goodbye to me, because the next day you won't see me.”

“Jesus, Blan!”

I say, opening the pot of salad and smelling it. I fiddle with my fork, fighting an internal battle about whether or not to eat. Worst case scenario, I'm already in hospital, right? The door to the anteroom opens again and I look away.

“Shit!”, Blanca curses quietly as she chews.

I see Maurice coming in, followed by Dom. Blanca gets up in a hurry, takes the salad from my hand and hands me the hamburger.

“Eat!”, he orders.

I look at her, confused. Blanca chews her lettuce with a hateful expression.

“How delicious! Fresh salad is great, right?”

I frown, not understanding anything. Dominique enters the room, casting a glance in my direction.

“I was going to ask if you were okay, but from the size of the burger and the bites, you look great. Were you able to eat today without too much trouble?, he asks, his gray eyes full of expectation.

Suddenly, I don't know what to say. I just nod, staring at the burger. The meat is so rare that I can almost hear the mooing. I close my eyes, take a bite and chew, trying not to show my desperation, swallowing slowly. I promised myself that I would eat a little bit and try food, even if I feel sick or afraid. I need to get better... Dom gives me a proud smile. Maurice looks at us puzzled as we enter the room.

“What an evolution. One who never eats, eating, and another who only drinks, now of salad. Almost dying changes people.”

“Not all of them, right? You're still the same”, Blanca discounts.

“And since when do perfect people like me need to change?”, Maurice returns, with debauchery.

Dominique lets out a laugh, while I disguise mine.

“In the next life, I want to have your ego”, Dom says, sarcastically.

“You don't need another life. In this one, you're already neck and neck”, I complete.

Dom gives me an indignant look.

“If you keep joking, I'll take your discharge.”

“Are you kidding? For real?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

I let out a sigh of relief, throwing myself on the bed. I can't stay here any longer.

I walk through the hospital lobby alongside Dominique. The new driver is waiting outside, since I'm going straight from here to the United States. I refused to go out in a wheelchair, so I'm wearing heels, a blazer, sunglasses and comfortable jeans. My steps are slow because of my ribs and my nervousness grows as Dom guides me along, his hand resting on my back. As we pass through the automatic doors, I turn to him. Dom is wearing an impeccable black suit, but his countenance is heavy. There is something between anger and sadness in his gray eyes, which now seem cloudier than ever. His posture, however, remains as unwavering as ever. I stand in front of him, sliding my hands down his torso in a gentle back and forth, trying to soften the tension between us.

“Dom…”, I call, trying to get his attention.

He looks away, avoiding me for a moment, but eventually gives in. His eyes slowly drift down to mine, filled with restrained emotion.

“Won't you say anything?”, I ask in a string of voices.

“Will anything I say change your mind?”, his voice comes out low and hoarse, almost a whisper.

“No”, my refusal is firm.

“So I have nothing to say to you.”

I bite my lip, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to escape. He pulls away and opens the dark door of the parked BMW. I exchange one last look with him, the tension between us expanding, carrying all that remains unsaid.

“Thank you for always taking care of me…”

Dom raises his hand, signaling for me to stop, not wanting to hear any more.  He turns and starts walking in the opposite direction, without looking back.

My heart squeezes, a dull ache spreads through my chest and my eyes fill with tears. Every fiber of my body begs me to run to him, but I remain motionless. I get into the car and the driver closes the door. The feeling of loss consumes me. It's as if I've just made the worst decision of my life. I dig my nails into the upholstery, my hands shaking as I can't control my crying. I lean my head back against the seat, letting all the tears fall uncontrollably. My whole body is made up of chaos that I can't sort out and the confusion in my mind only gets worse with every sob that escapes.

Suddenly, I hear the door on the other side opening. My heart races in anticipation, a desperate hope that it's Dominique. I hold my breath, preparing myself to see him there. But instead, it's Blanca who walks in, closing the door with haste and a cynical smile on her face.

“Speed it up!”, she orders the driver, leaning firmly on the back of the seat. Then she turns to me, assessing my state with a serious look, “You can stop crying, because I'm going with you. We're going to find out who this Clara is.”

I face Blanca, my face still wet with tears. My voice comes out shaky, almost a whisper.

“Blanca... are you running away from the hospital?”

She lifts her chin with that confidence that only she has.

“Of course not! I just... discharged myself.”

For a moment, I remain silent, staring at my friend as if trying to process her words. But my chest remains heavy and a short, nervous laugh tries to escape.