Black Widow | 18+

5 | Weakness

Leandro 

Sleep was precious to me when I managed to get it, and I had countless nights of not sleeping which never seemed to affect me, so when I found myself staring at the ceiling with irritation coursing through me I could only pin the feeling down to one reason. 

I could only see one thing in my mind, usually if I wasn't sleeping it was because of something like not knowing if a shipment was running smoothly, or a takeover going to plan, but this reason wasn't as valid as stress at work.

This reason was purely to do with Artemisia popping up in my head every time I shut my eyes. She was everywhere and it was becoming unmanageable. 

Two days ago I held her in my arms as she wrapped her own around me. I could still feel her touch. I allowed myself to engrain the feeling of her body against mine, the relaxation and relief that I felt for knowing that somewhere in her guarded fortress of a heart, she had the ability to be honest with me. 

Artemisia cried in front of me, and I couldn't stop thinking about it. Not because I was perturbed, but it made me feel, as pathetic and cringeworthy as it is, special. 

And then she'd told me that there was no point in trying to make things up to her, and that she would be out of my life when this job was done with; but I didn't fucking want that. 

I'd been thinking about her for thirteen years, just to have her vanish again?

You could say I was being selfish, and maybe I was, but Artemisia Pericelo's absence had haunted my existence for over a third of my life. I couldn't let her go now. Not after there had been other nights before I saw her at that dinner where I'd laid awake, thinking about what she would have been like after all the time apart, if she was still alive. 

On her birthdays I would stare at that fucking photo, the only trace of her left after my father and her's burnt through everything that was in her possession. I'd saved it. 

The paradox between me having to make sadistic comments and totally unbothered chuckles on those phone calls and then going to my room to stare at that photo, it made--

She had heard me on those phone calls.

-

A progress meeting was taking place at Anton's home where he was hosting a high-stakes poker game, I wasn't keen on the location, but could I complain after they had come to my own home? 

I didn't know how to feel, there were different elements involved. 

The first was that I felt unsettled, I had no read on how tonight was going to go. 

The second was a feeling of impatience, this meeting had only been called this morning by David but I'd been impatient for it to happen since the night of the gala. 

The third was a feeling of, well, confusion. I rarely cared for progress, I just wanted to know when things were taking place. Time periods never fazed me, but I knew why I had been so restless for this one to happen. 

Artemisia. 

It was frustrating me, I was supposed to be getting married in three months and here I was, obsessing over a woman who claimed she wanted nothing to do with me.

But I couldn't stop. 

There was nothing artificial or forced about my feelings for her, and I knew I had a long way to go before she started to even consider having a small amount of trust in me, but I wouldn't stop working for her acceptance until I did.