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SEVENTY-THREE.
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Don Valentinos Farfalla And Heiress SEVENTY-FOUR.
The doctor strides into the room as I lay next to my dad on his bed. His eyes had slowly opened, and he made eye contact with me a few minutes ago before his eyelids fluttered shut again. Ryan had left the room almost immediately, demanding that a doctor come and see us, to explain to me what was going on and where we proceed from this moment forward.“Miss Bishop, I am Doctor Cameron.” A deep, unknown voice sweeps through the room. "I have recently taken over your father’s care, and I hear he has woken up from his coma. My apologies, I would have been here sooner, but the hospital is short-staffed, and I needed to step in for the surgery department.” He continues with his chin touching his chest as he skims my father’s medical report. “With your permission. I'd like to remove him from the ventilators, which should have already been done,” he turns his head and looks at the nurse standing beside him. “You and I will be having a conversation about this afterwards,” he growls darkly,
Don Valentinos Farfalla And Heiress SEVENTY-FIVE.
Feeling like utter shit, I walk back to my father's room with a foul taste coating my mouth. It’s almost strong enough to choke on if I let it consume me.Since when did one’s neighbourhood become a health problem or give the medical team a reason to point out the obstacles in your life? 'Disrespectful, arrogant prick.' My inner goddess titters. “Umph!” I walk into a solid wall of muscle, stumbling back, and I lose my footing. Before I can register what's going on, a pair of firm hands, wrap themselves around my waist, preventing me from colliding with the cold hospital floor. Making a right dicking of myself.“Whoa, easy there, cupcake.” A husky voice says against my hair.I peel my eyes open, realising today isn't the day I'll be kissing the ground and I silently thank the heavens. My eyes meet this mystery man with his arms still holding onto my hips for dear life. As I gaze into his honey-brown eyes, a feeling of familiarity niggles at my consciousness. I offer him a faint
Don Valentinos Farfalla And Heiress SEVENTY-SIX.
“You!” My father cries out in a trembling voice, trying to move himself into an upright position against his pillows. Failing horribly. His eyes dart back and forth between Alessandro and me, and I hang my head in shame, hating that he has to find out this way. “Dad,” I whisper heavily. “I can explain.” Finally finding the courage to raise my gaze, I meet his scolding stare that's filled with disappointment and heartache. He snatches his hand out from under mine, wincing, and turns his head to look in the opposite direction. Refusing to acknowledge our presence in the room. My heart plummets into my stomach, causing my belly to ache, and I recall I've seen this same reaction when he disowned Rose after learning that she was pregnant with a Valentino.“Mr Bishop,” Alessandros’ firm but gentle voice hums in the air, demanding attention. “Your daughter has missed you. She has been through a great deal while you were in a coma, and dismissing her because of me will be your greatest
Don Valentinos Farfalla And Heiress SEVENTY-SEVEN.
I burst out laughing, clapping a hand over my mouth, shaking my head. “Yeah, okay.” Sarcasm drowns my words. "I'm serious, Farfalla.”I stare into his clear blue eyes that gleam with rejection and annoyance. My defiance is becoming his undoing, and he is willing to do anything to keep me at his side.But marrying him is just absurd. There is no real love connection between us and I refuse to enter a loveless marriage, trapping myself – binding myself to him for eternity.“So, am I. You cannot just spring a marriage proposal on me out of nowhere, Alessandro.” I shrug out of his hold, stepping around him, and I head for the door. “If you walk out that door, don't expect to see me or Savannah ever again.” He growls, meaning every word that is laced with poison. I spin around and face him with my nostrils flaring. "You wouldn’t!” My voice trembles, knowing full well that he would. Anger seeps deeply into my pores, building a wall around my heart made from ice. He stuffs his hands in
Don Valentinos Farfalla And Heiress SEVENTY-EIGHT.
One Week Later.Time seems to have slowed down in the last eight days. True to his word, Alessandro has forbidden me to enter through the villa’s iron gates, refusing to let me see Savannah. He ignores my calls, refuses to see me face to face or acknowledge my existence when he's driven past me standing outside the villa, deep in conversation with his henchmen. It hurts. I didn’t think it would hurt like this to go from sleeping in his bed to him acting like I don't exist.And it doesn't help that the memory of our last kiss haunts me through the night, leaving me breathless when I wake up in a pool of sweat and shivering limbs. ---“Miss Bishop, these are the documents for your father's discharge records, his medication, and his timetable for when he will need to return for checkups or physiotherapy .”I'm pulled out of my current state of self-pity when a nurse enters my father's room, blubbering away. I turn away from the window, meeting her gaze, “thank you.” I say politely
Don Valentinos Farfalla And Heiress SEVENTY-NINE.
I take my father's favourite meal out of the oven. The cheese is bubbling, and it has charred nicely on top of the cottage pie.Because my father cannot eat red meat, and he's not a massive fan of chicken. I had to use lentils. He is also very critical when it comes to balancing the gravy ingredients correctly, so it has to be homemade rather than store-bought. I tilt my nose upwards and take a long deep breath through my nose, breathing in the fresh aromas wafting through the house. My mouth waters, causing my belly to rumble, and I try to think back to when my last proper meal was. Snacking on dried fruit or drinking multiple cups of coffee isn't highly classified as eating healthy, is it?I placed the baking dish on top of the wooden breadboard next to the Greek salad I had prepared earlier as I waited for the pie to bake. Settling into my chair across from my father, I look at him through eyes that are consumed by grief and exhaustion. He hasn't spoken more than three words to
Don Valentinos Farfalla And Heiress EIGHTY.
“Come on, Miss Bishop, open the door.” He yells, banging on the door again, and I watch as it rattles on the fragile hinges. I yank it open.The last thing I need right now is for my father to wake up or the women in the neighbourhood to see him and start gossiping. I poke my head out the door and look up and down the street, until I am confident he has not been seen, at which point I bring him inside and close the door behind him.I turn around, leaning my back against the door, and I glare at him with my arms folded across my chest. “What do you want and why are you here?” I hiss with annoyance as he goes about the living room, taking in his surroundings and most certainly passing judgement on our shabby way of life.“You called, I got worried and decided to come and check on Mr Bishop myself.” He stops walking and stares at me. “It's late.” I cast a glimpse at the clock on the wall. “It's after ten o'clock, he's asleep, I'm tired, and you should leave.” He chuckles, settling u
Don Valentinos Farfalla And Heiress EIGHTY-ONE.
I stand in front of the full-length mirror, my reflection gazing back at me with uncertainty. In one hand, I delicately hold a black dress, its fabric flowing through my fingers like a dark river. In my other hand, I clutch a white dress, its pristine hue contrasting against my fingertips. A moment of indecision hangs in the air, as I ponder which garment to wear.About an hour ago, I had put my father to bed. I believe that today's events were too much for him to handle, and true to my word, I took him to the hospital with Jax where he accompanied my father to his appointment with Dr. Cameron for a checkup. I wasn't in the mood for his smart-arse personality, and I'm still pretty salty about his undesirable opinion about us being poor like it's a choice. Besides, I didn't get much sleep last night. I tossed and turned as I tried to make sense of what had happened with Alessandro in the middle of the street. I think it's safe to say he is like my human-form kryptonite. He makes me
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