Chapter 002

Chapter 002

My head feels like someone’s taken an axe to it and split it open. My eyes flutter open and I wince at the sunlight streaming through the curtains. Biege curtains, arched glass windows. I sit up in alarm, the silky sheets slipping down my chest. Frantically, I gather them up. 

This isn’t my room. Where am I?

I glance around, taking in the spacious bedroom I am in. The biege and black decor reminds me of a hotel room. The furniture is modern, what looks like a walk in closet and a kingsized bed. It takes a slow second for me to realize that there’s someone sleeping beside me. A man.

Last night’s memories return in painful flashes; my friends leaving, me downing drink after drink, the mystery adonis watching me, the passionate kiss we shared. His offer to leave. That’s where it ends. I have no memory of what happened after that.

Did we have sex? The telltale soreness between my legs is my answer. I bite down on my lip, hard enough to draw blood. I can’t believe I slept with someone I met last night. I don’t even know his name. 

I can’t resist sneaking a glance at him now, his silky black hair is in disarray, as if someone ran their hands through it several times. Shit, did I do that?

His eyes are closed in sleep and I can’t help but notice how peaceful he looks, still handsome but softer somehow. His chest is naked but thankfully, the white bedsheets cover him waist down. On a closer look, I see thin scratches lining his back. They look recent. I don’t need anyone to tell me who caused them.

My cheeks heat up in embarrassment. The longer I stay here, the more details I uncover about last night. I don’t want to remember anything. That girl last night? The one who drank tequila like it was water? It wasn’t me. 

I have to leave before he wakes up. I try to move but I realize that one of his arms is resting across my legs. Panic wells up in me. How am I going to get that off? 

Breathe, Federica, breathe. Across the room, I spot my dress lying in a pile. I can’t find my shoes or underwear but that’s fine, I don’t need them. I just need my purse, I have some cash in there. My phone’s in there too.

I inhale a deep breath and gingerly lift the hairy arm. I watch him as I do so, sighing when he doesn’t stir. Once I’m free, I stand up from the bed, fighting a wave of pain. I’m never drinking again. 

I was so stupid last night, leaving a man who I didn’t know anything about. I was the responsible friend, the one who preached to my friends about stranger danger. Usually, I didn’t let my friends go home with a guy unless they had his name and other details. Rosalia would laugh at me if she could see me right now, or perhaps she was worried sick now.

I have a sudden vision of my best friend marching to the police station to report me missing. I dress quickly and leave the bedroom only to be gobsmacked by the rest of the house. 

A hallway stretches before me, pristine marbled floors and expensive artwork hang on the walls. Warily, I tiptoe towards the living room. It’s twice the size of my entire apartment. Plush white sofas circle a center table and a glass chandelier with pointed shards is suspended low. The white rug is soft underneath my feet. 

There’s also a small home bar. This is unreal. Who the heck is my one night stand? A billionaire? 

Before I can dwell further on the wealth surrounding me. I spot my red clutch underneath the coffee table. One quick rummage tells me that everything is intact. Without so much as a backward glance, I head for the door and leave. 

——

Lady Luck is on my side today, when I arrive back at the tiny apartment I share with Rosalia, I find her in our kitchen, nursing a glass of water and staring blankly ahead at nothing in particular. 

“Hi, Lia,” I greet in an overly chipper tone. I half expect her to see through my act but she doesnt. 

She winces. “Too loud.” She groans softly.

Somehow, she looks even worse than I do. Her hair's a tangled mess and there are prominent bags underneath her eyes. 

“Are you alright? You look like…” I trail off.

“Like a train ran me over?” She asks, a hint of amusement creeping into her voice. 

“I was going to say a hot mess but that works fine too. What happened last night? I didn’t think I’d find you home.” I tell her.

It’s Rosalia who has one night stands with gorgeous men, not me. With the chemistry sizzling between her and Roberto last night, I thought she wouldn’t come home. On the cab ride here, I was hoping to hell that she wouldn’t be home.

A scowl makes its way onto her pretty face. “I wasn’t going to.”

“What happened?” I repeat warily. Rosalia almost always has an outlandish story to tell after her nights out. 

My friend takes a sip of water. “That bastard,” she seethes. “He asked me to come back to his place, I abreed. Everything was going swell and we were making out on his couch when some girl burst inside the house. Turns out he had a girlfriend who was supposed to be out of town.”

Damn. I shake my head, regretting the action when pain shoots up my skull. I move to pour myself a glade of water too. 

“The poor thing was so hesrbroken, she started crying right there. I felt awful, I think I would have prefered it if she screamed and cussed me out but she didn’t.” Rosalia says.

Despite her tough exterior, my friend is as soft as butter. She seems rather hurt which means she must have liked that idiot.

“He’s a dick,” I mutter, rounding the kitchen island to rub her shoulders. Rosalia sighs.

“You’re right. I’ll be fine.” 

For the first time, she takes in my appearance and I wait with bated breath, expecting her to ask about my night out but she doesn’t.

“You look like hell,” she comments lightly and goes back to sipping her water.

Just like that I’m off the hook. I exhale a sigh of relief. Nobody knows what happened except me, I can even pretend that it was a regular night out. I can’t ever let myself get carried away like that again. 

——

A month passes by and I start to forget. The university gives us a brief break after exams. I spent it back at my adoptive parents’ house. 

It hasn’t felt like a home since I was a child. My parents aren’t awful but we don’t get along, primarily because of my younger sister, Gabriella. She was their miracle baby, they had her two years after I was adopted and their behaviour towards me switched. Suddenly, all the care and attention went to her.

As a ten year old, it was hard not to feel jealous of a new baby but I bore it then, thinking that things would change when she was older and we could be friends but that hasn’t happened and I don’t think it ever will. 

I mostly stay out of her way. Now that I’m in my final year, it’s only a matter of time before I graduate and leave this family behind. They won’t miss me. I tell myself that I feel the same way. It’s a lie.

They say that bad things come in threes. One week before the resumption of a new semester, a hidden water leak in the apartment I live in with Rosalia results in serious mold infestation, rendering the house unlivable until it’s fixed. 

Then my parents refuse to pay for a new place, they insist that I commute from home.

The third one is the worst. 

One evening after a long day of lectures, I walk inside the house, exhausted. There’s a note on the fridge from my parents, they’ve gone out to celebrate their anniversary with Gabriella. Their deliberate exclusion leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I blink back tears, feeling foolish.

I chalk it up to my upcoming period—I haven’t seen it yet but my periods are usually irregular. I’ve been feeling a little strange recently, the other day Gabriella called me a whale and I almost cried. 

At least I have the house to myself for the first time in a while. I eat takeout on the couch—something my mother usually scolds me for—and flick through the channels on television. 

I accidentally end up on the news. I’m about to change the channel when a familiar face appears on the screen. 

A violent shudder snakes through me. It’s the man from the club. The one that I slept with. The newscaster is discussing something but I can barely focus on her words. I’m staring at the photo on the screen. 

I would be lying if I said he didn’t cross my mind in the past month but I started to forget what he looked like. Now the memories flood back in. His face is unsmiling here but he still looks handsome. 

I read the news crawl. He’s Diego Santoro, millionaire businessman. I’ve heard that name before, wealthy beyond imagination and rumored to be part of the mafia. 

What the hell have I gotten myself into?