No Strings Attached

CHAPTER 37

"What's happening Vincenzo?" she asks, her voice tired.

"With what sweetheart?" I ask,

"This," she replies in a small voice, shutting her eyes as if it's all too much for her.

"I don't know sweetheart," I murmur, "I honestly don't know,"

Our conversation replays in my mind, over, and over again. Last night, imprinted on my mind, making no indication of leaving.

How small, and scared she looked when she came into my room. The way she begged me to make it stop, her voice breaking. The way she collapsed in my arms, cried in my arms. The way she trusted me enough to come to me, trusted me enough to calm her from yet another panic attack. And the way she touched me.

Fuck, the way she touched me. So light, so gentle. Her fingers tracing over my tattoos, sending waves of electricity through me as her fingers explored the ink on my body. The way she lay down on me, her arms around my neck. Fuck, what I wouldn't give to fall asleep like that every night.

I look down as she stirs beside me, her expression calm as she rolls over. I keep my arm firmly wrapped around her, smiling as she hums softly.

"Good morning sweetheart," I murmur, pulling her back to me as she laughs softly.

She rests her head on my shoulder and looks up at me, a lazy smile spreading across her lips. "What the fuck are we doing?" she laughs, shaking her head as I sigh.

"I don't fucking know," I chuckle, pinching the bridge of my nose. She lets out wry laugh as she covers her face with her hands, resting her head on my chest as I rest my hand on the curve of her waist.

"If this is going to become a regular thing, I really do think that you should see someone about it," I say quietly, biting the inside of my cheek as her body stiffens.

"I'm fine, they're just dreams, like you say," she whispers,

"Sweetheart you wake up having a panic attack every other night," I say gently, "That's not ok,"

"Why do you even care so much?" she lashes out, "Since when did men in the Mafia care so much about this shit?"

"Mom drilled it into us," I murmur, "She never wanted us to go through what she did,"

"That's good of her," is all Anastasia says,

"Consider it," I say, deep down knowing the small nod she gives me in meaningless. "Thank you sweetheart," I say softly, kissing her temple as I brush her hair away from her face.

"When's dinner with the Americans?" she asks, covering her mouth as she yawns.

"Tonight, then we leave to wherever Leonardo is," I say idly, suddenly sitting up. "I completely forgot about last night, what did you get from him?" I ask, cursing myself for not asking sooner.

"Simon said Leonardo's in the Vatican City, and said we could find an exact address at his home on his laptop," she explains, her head slipping to my thigh. "Gabriel went to make sure he was telling the truth, he said he'd call when he found out,"

"Has he called?" I ask,

"My phones in my room," she yawns, "I'll go get it," she rubs her eyes before sitting up, running a hand through her hair as she gives me an unimpressed look.

I lean forward and kiss her jawline, "Go on sweetheart," I coax her, smirking as her cheeks turn a light pink.

She scowls at me and gets off the bed, disappearing out into the hallway as I sit back on the bed. I keep my eyes fixed on the door until she returns, "Nothing," she says, phone in hand as she shuts the door behind her.