Fatal Alliances [✓]

35

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

MATEO

HER EYES HAD SUNKEN IN and she was as still as she had been, when I had first pulled her into the ensuite and seated her delicately onto the edge of the bath-tub.

Wordless, as she allowed me to undress her, until the material was pooled at her feet and she was left in nothing but lacy undergarments, and one of my shirts was wrapped around her shoulders like a cloak.

"Talk to me." I demanded in a hushed tone, nervous that she would randomly combust if I pressed any further and left her to wallow alone in her thoughts.

With a bowl of hot water by my side and damp towels, I was on my knees, tieless, shirt smothered in grime a little, sleeves rolled to my elbow —attempting to clean her up.

"Can you hear the sound my stomach is making?" She huffed out a moment later. "I haven't eaten in hours and I know that should be the least of my concerns, but I can't help it. I'm so hungry."

I let out a slight chuckle, relieved and startled, and tried not to look down from her upper body, where I knew her jagged stretch marks and womanly cellulite were proudly paraded across her long splayed legs and olive-toned stomach and thighs.

A part of me wanted to trace patterns across every inch of her body with just my lips, yet I shoved the thought away at once.

"Pizza's on the way already, Mr Hibashi's on it." I told her. "I assume you need comfort food."

"What if I wanted pasta instead?" Malia murmured, yet her eyes lit up.

"Do you?" I raised my brow.

"No." She managed a smile.

"Good." I said.

"Pizza tends to upset my stomach." She chewed her lip. "I'm surprised that it is still intact."

"Non dairy." I said calmly. "Since the beginning."

"You noticed?" She backtracked.

"Yes."

After a brief pause, I resumed my task, rubbing the towel along her collarbones until the blood was entirely removed. With the exception of a stubborn lipstick stain, she was almost clean.

Her face was devoid of colour once the makeup was lifted, hue that would have been present had the previous events not transpired. I couldn't get over the notion that she'd been almost been barricaded inside, clothes soaked in blood, when I found her —Weisman on the ground.

Given that he was a pitiful piece of shit who was known to stick to Dahlia like glue, as he was her slave —just thinking about the bastard on the floor made me puff out aloud. Things shouldn't have gotten to that point.