[ D O M I N I C O ] Something's pounding my head. From the inside. And it won't fucking stop. The sheets feel unfamiliar. I groan and swat the blanket away. I'm cold, and the silence pressing in around me only seems to double the pain. “Cazzo.” My mouth feels like a sponge, rough and a bit numb. Shit. Of course I'm freezing my balls off. I'm buttnaked. The pain in my skull is spreading. The fuck did I drink? I rub my eyes until the glue in them becomes a stinging pain. The other side of the bed's empty. Where's Sephie? I haul my ass out of bed and wince. “Fuck.” The incessant throbs behind my eyes only deepen. All my fault. I took the "grieving son" act too far. About four glasses of wine. No breather between the last three. More or less five hours of sleep. Now my body aches in ways that remind me I'm no wine connoisseur. Rubbing my temples, I try fixing the bed without tripping over myself. Not sure why I feel the need to piece together everything that happened
[ S E R A P H I N E ]The guy sitting next to me looks like he wants to punch a hole in his computer screen. Then light it on fire before tossing the entire thing out the window. It's not something new, though. My pretend husband is a corporate executive and the CFO of a top-performing financial services firm. 'Stressful' doesn't even describe half of the work he's doing. This guy works day and night just to keep their company running. Making sure all their employees are paid on time. Making sure his staff are fed while he keeps a roof over our heads.It's not really a problem. I can deal with Daytime Dominico. I'm just worried he's working himself to the bone to pay the bills and to keep me in school. Me, on the other hand... I'm just sitting right here beside him, unapologetically picturing a future without him. Busy thinking of reasons I can use to convince him that we can't make this permanent. That we can't push things forward. That he's better off without me — another liabili
[ D O M I N I C O ] I owe her an apology. This talk can't wait another day. I can't just sleep this off. Neither can she, from the looks of it. We're out here in the backyard, the wind tugging at our clothes and rustling the leaves of the trees lining the property fence. It's quiet tonight. A bit too cold, but peaceful. Yet it doesn't tame the chaos inside my head. Guilt's been gnawing at me from the moment I saw Mamma walk out of the precinct. She barely talked or looked at me during the drive, which says enough about how she feels about this conversation we're about to have. Mamma sits on one of the chairs in the patio, alone and tight-lipped, her slender arms crossed. She looks like she's contemplating her entire existence. Or she's just convincing herself that I'm the biggest disappointment in her life. Yeah. Probably. I get it, though. It's nothing new in our family. I've gotten so used to it that I don't even feel that affected.Her expression shows a mix of anger and disapp
[ S E R A P H I N E ] It's midnight. I should be sleeping. Or studying. The latter seems impossible, though, given my current state of mind. I can't focus every time Dominico's stepmom is staying over. Even worse: some nosey reporters have found out where Dominico lives. A couple of them have been camping around his property since yesterday, despite knowing he's got security staff and hates any media attention. So far it doesn't look like they've found out that I moved out of his house. But I do think they're planning to harass me next for any information about Dom, his father, and Leandro. Which is partly why I decided to move out temporarily. I don't want my family to see my face on the tabloids anytime soon, but it might happen one of these days. Sitting on the edge of my small bed, I rub my eyes as the wind howls outside. The soft glow of my desk lamp casts a warm light across my dorm room. My roommate isn't here yet. I don't think she'll be here until Wednesday. As the
[ S E R A P H I N E ] “Don't burn. Please. I need you to be perfect tonight. Absolutely perfect.” I let out a shaky breath and stir the pasta one more time as the white sauce I just made simmers in the pan. It's his favorite pasta. Homemade and fresh. The pot on the other burner is still cooking the spicy sinigang — the pork and veggie stew Dominico made me swear I'll cook for him every week. The house is quiet like most evenings, but it's not eerie. I prefer this. It's the complete opposite of the noisy campus dorms where I've spent the last couple of days. And nights. Because I thought some time apart will be good for us both. “Yeah. Right.” I scoff at myself. Well, sure. Being away from him gave me enough "me time" to focus on my schoolwork this week, and it gave Dominico some space. A bit of privacy while dealing with the grief and stress. But now I'm seriously doubting it's the long-term solution most of our relationship problems need. I already miss him. Badly. Way m
[ S E R A P H I N E ] “What?” I glare at the guy in handcuffs. My chest doesn't stop aching despite the calm, soothing voice he's faking in front of all these people. These inconsiderate pieces of... The heck am I supposed to do now? I'm not supposed to go after him. Or anywhere. I'll just stay here until I lose my mind worrying about him all night? “Per favore non fargli del male.” [Please don’t hurt him.] Before the cops reach the front door, Dominico gives me another reassuring smile. It's weaker, more forced than the first. “It's gonna be fine,” he says in a steady voice even as the men in uniform walk him out of the house. I dash to the end of the hall and try to block their way. But two lady cops grab my arms. “Don't touch me!” They drag me back to the living room, away from Dominico and the front door. They're saying something but my brain's not working. It doesn't even attempt to translate the words coming out of their mouth. I just want to bawl my eyes out. More
[ D O M I N I C O ] “What d'you want?” “Un semplice 'grazie' può bastare.” [A simple 'thank you' would suffice.] I don't respond and rush into the busy hallway. No longer handcuffed. Free to walk out of this shithole, at last. Despite the time, half of the precinct is still buzzing with activity. Where the fuck is my phone? No one mentioned how much longer I'm supposed to wait for it out here. I glance at my watch. If nothing else comes up, I'll be home before two. I'll be in my bed by four at the latest if Enzo and Mamma decide to show up. Clenching my jaw, I stifle a yawn and walk past another interrogation room, my head just about spinning. I'm still wrapping my mind around what just happened. After hours of waiting and skirting redundant, mostly half-baked questions, I narrowly escaped two criminal charges — thanks to this meddling prick showing up out of nowhere. But it's not the end of the animosity between us. The bitter taste in my mouth remains. And I don't plan
[ D O M I N I C O ] After we pass by a busy intersection, the drive turns agonizingly slow. No thanks to the rain pelting the windshield and blurring my driver's view. We're ten minutes away. If I were the one behind the wheel, I'll say five, even in this weather. I need to see her now. Talk to her. Ask her questions I need answers to. I'll try not to turn it into another stupid fight about her ex and their friendship. Merely thinking about them talking and being in the same room still sets my teeth on edge. I slap my phone on my thigh. It's quiet unlike most days. Enzo still won't return my calls, which can only mean three things: 1) he's behind bars and not allowed to use gadgets 2) he's busy entertaining and showing off his new girlfriend, or 3) someone working for Pappa and Leandro or the Falcos kidnapped him, and now Enzo's probably dying in a ditch somewhere “Merda.” [Shit.] It's not just paranoia. Or anxiety. This isn't just my pessimism talking. If Pappa and L