Capitolo I

I didn't know who the man was standing in the far corner of the room, looking as dazed as I am. Tears stained on his cheeks, blue pair of eyes like the Mediterranean ocean locked into my heterochromic ones. His gray shirt was wrinkled and his five o'clock shadow was proof of how he hasn't had time to look after himself for days.

"Caterina?" I heard the doctor call, as he dragged something bright into my eyes. Snapping from my confusion, I looked at the doctor who put away his medical light and grabbed the stethoscope that hung from his neck. "Deep breaths, please." I complied, taking deep breaths as he put the end of the instrument on my chest. He pressed it a few inches around the area before removing the other end from his ears. My eyes returned to the stranger's dazed ones. "How are you feeling, Ms. Santelli?"

I opened my mouth to answer but as I pushed my voice out, my throat throbbed and I grimaced in pain. My eyes snapped at the doctor, panicking, trying to reach for my throat. Have I gone mute? "Does your throat hurt?" The doctor asked like I was an open book. I nodded. "It's likely to hurt. You'll feel sore for at least a day from the intubation. How about we take this slow?"

I dared a glance from the man, who hadn't moved from where he was standing but now had his arms crossed over his chest, waiting and gawking at us—at me. Like he would pounce at the doctor if he so much as breathed wrong.

"Are you in any kind of pain?" The doctor asked, checking something on his clipboard. He glanced up at me and I nodded. Hell fucking yes I'm in pain. My head was throbbing like I had drunk the entire Scotland and inhaled the longest line of coke, my back was killing me and my mind was in turmoil. The pain was making me numb that I don't exactly know where it's coming from. "We'll add dosage to your pain relievers." He scribbled something on the paper then called a nurse and instructed her about the meds. "Do you feel this?" he asked, pinching my forearm. I nodded again. He walked back from the bed towards my feet under the covers. He pinched it again, but he touched something sore. I yelped.

"Sigmund," barked the stranger, whom I realized was wearing a gray tee, as he took a few steps towards us. Who are you? I've wanted to ask him but I can't find the strength to do so.

"I'm sorry," the doctor—Sigmund—murmured. "The fact that your senses are working is great. Now I'll have to ask whether or not you remember anything."

Then it hit me. Yes, I do not remember the man in gray, whom I consider to be someone important especially when he got access to be in my room despite my status and situation. But when Sigmund asked that, I felt the whole world stop. I stared at nothing for a moment and tried to think of what happened. Why was I in the hospital? Why does it hurt everywhere? Why can't I remember shit? But there was just a huge, dark gap. Fear was creeping in, exhaustion from something I don't exactly know is making me feel weaker than I already am. And I didn't like feeling weak. My lips started to tremble and before I knew it, I was crying while hysterically shaking my head. No! No, I do not remember anything.

"It's oka—"

"It's not fucking okay, Sigmund," Gray Shirt interrupted, finally stepping in between me and the doctor. Sigmund tightened his jaw as he signaled for his colleagues to leave. When they obeyed and it was only the three of us in the room, Gray Shirt added, "There must be something wrong if she can't remember shit." My thoughts exactly.

"Son," the doctor started. Surely, these men aren't biologically connected. While Sigmund has toned and olive skin, the man in gray is paler. The doctor looked Latino while the man looked somewhat European. His slight accent revealed that much. "What she cannot remember is temporary. It's her brain coping up with the stress her body endured and is currently experiencing. We have no control over that."

I stared at them, digesting Sigmund's words. Relief swept over me when I heard him say it was temporary. But still, the frustration of not knowing what I've forgotten was still there. The fact that I am at a disadvantage, scared the fuck out of me. What if the man in gray is not to be trusted and the only thing stopping him from killing me is this doctor?

The doctor did a few last checkups. "Press the button if you need anything," he said before he left, pointing at the button on the bed, by my hand. The door closed and I was alone with the man.

"Mari," he said, taking a chair from the corner and putting it beside me, taking a seat. His eyes were cool, relief was in them but still there was worry and tiredness. "Do you know who I am?"

I shook my head and I saw his jaw tightened.

"My name is Lucas," he said and I prayed that the name would ring a bell. It didn't. The name sounds so familiar though, but it didn't carry any flashes of memory as to how and why I know the name nor why I am associated with this man. "I'm your fiancé." I have a fiancé? I'm getting married? I frowned and my eyes grew in horror with the fact that I do not know the person I am to wed. What if this amnesia isn’t temporary, and I marry someone I don't remember? Do I love him? Does he love me? What's his job? Does he know that my family is in the...drug business?

My father...

Chase...

Why aren't they here?

I wanted to ask him but I couldn't find my voice. Fucking intubation. My mind raced again when I realized that I was intubated. Was it that serious? He just stared at me, maybe hoping for a slight hope that I would recognize him. I pitied him although I know nothing of him.

"Chase," he pinged and that caught my attention like a kid in a candy store. "Do you remember Chase?" I nodded without hesitation. "Good. Good."

Where is he? I wanted to ask. Where the fuck was my assistant? He should be here. Where is here anyway? At least I remembered why I was paying him big money despite him not doing his job. But he answered anyway like he read my mind. "Chase is in his hotel. But he'll be back tomorrow. For now it's just you and me."

It's just me and him.

"You really don't remember anything?" he whispered. I shook my head, blinking away the tears that are fighting to roll down my cheeks. If it's just me and him, I might as well pretend I can handle a little amnesia. "Do you remember the contract?" I shook my head once more, surprised that I'm only learning about a contract. Then again, I was having memory loss. Might as well take a trip down memory lane. A lane I don't fucking remember. I really, really wanted to know. Why can't I remember him?

He said something about a deal both of our fathers made. Our marriage in exchange for my family's freedom. Once we're married, Lucas will be head of both clans. At least he knows about our business and I assumed that he's into it as well. He also said something about our marriage due in a few days and told me that we can postpone it until I am stable enough to do it. Works for me. At least I'll have time to think things through and hope that by then, I'll have my memories back. I suddenly had the chance to feel my finger and just as I thought, a gorgeous ring was there. 

He finally answered the question I've been dying to ask about what happened to me and why I was here. Turns out I was the hero. I saved his sister from Freddy Gonzales. The Freddy Gonzales? How did I win against Freddy fucking Gonzales? But then when he said I took eight bullets in, I figured that although I won, I had to take the victory with several bullet wounds and several days of pain. Never thought I’d be stupid enough to prioritize someone aside from myself.

—————

Lucas

~*~

My entire body shattered into bits when Mari shook her head after Sigmund asked her the question. The feeling that's been drowning me the past few hours was making me exhausted and to see her fucking shake her head no didn't help. It just made me want to shoot someone between their eyebrows.

I knew it would only be temporary. But the feeling of disappointment that she doesn't remember me bugged me. I fucking needed her to remember because I have my sister to worry about and I didn't want to worry about Mari. Especially when Mari never needed someone to look out for her. She was always the tough one.

"You should rest," I told her as I reached to hold her hand. But she fisted them into a ball, not wanting me to touch her. My jaw twitched. I knew I needed to leave before I do something stupid like punch the fucking wall, and traumatize her some more.

Relax, Lucas, I told myself, remembering my therapy sessions.

One...

Breathe.

Two...

Breathe.

Three...

Breathe.

"I know you're confused, Mari," I cooed, eyeing her fisted hand. "But there's no need to be afraid. You're going to be fine." She stared at me for a moment and nodded. And slowly, she opened her hand and let me hold her.

At least we got something right today.