EVE

Chapter Forty-three

(Falling in love...)

●Eve●

The next morning broke with a strange silence, the kind that suggested someone was not there. I blinked awake and saw that the other side of the bed had not warmed up from the previous night. The message left on his pillow caused a flutter of growing discomfort in my gut.

Mio piccolo Luna,

An unexpected complication with last night's deal demands my attention. I must address this matter immediately. Marco and Adriano will look after you. Tell them if you need anything.

A

The words were scrawled in an elegant cursive that I had come to recognize as his. His words, though brief, left a hollow echo in the quiet room.

"He's gone. Just like that," Subby murmured, echoing my thoughts with a tinge of scepticism. She was in a silk white robe, white fluffy slippers, and a face mask sipping on water in a Stanley cup. Her hair was in a black bonnet. The bedroom she was in was grey. it had a fluffy grey carpet, grey walls, grey silk sheets and grey blinds.

"How are you up and about already? Where are you?" I asked.

"That is classified information" She teased disappearing into the bathroom.

The day stretched endlessly without him, the mansion feeling more like a gilded cage. To distract myself, I ventured into realms of the house I seldom visited, engaging in housework that seemed both familiar and oddly comforting. In the kitchen, I found solace in the rhythm of mundane tasks, the simple act of preparing a meal calmed me. I had made breakfast and lunch for the guards. The least I could do was cook for them after making them unwilling participants in my quest for distraction.

"Bet you've never seen someone ruin pasta as spectacularly as I can," I teased Marco, one of the guards, as he passed by the kitchen.

His response was a poorly concealed chuckle, a reminder that beneath the stoicism, there were glimpses of humanity.

"I believe even pasta has a survival instinct. It might just surprise you," he shot back, with a fleeting but genuine smile.

The day passed in a blur of chores and light-hearted banter with the guards, their presence a constant reminder of the complexity of my situation. Subby kept me company, her voice a mix of comfort and caution.

When the Don finally returned, the atmosphere shifted palpably. The air seemed to thicken, charged with an unspoken tension that neither of us could navigate. He was distant, a storm brewing beneath the calm surface.

"Dinner's ready," I offered, attempting to bridge the gap with a semblance of normalcy.

He barely nodded, his mind elsewhere, lost in thoughts he wasn't ready to share. We sat at the table, and the distance between us was more than just physical. The meal passed in silence, each of us ensnared in our thoughts.

Subby whispered,

"Ask him. You need to know."

Gathering my courage, I broke the silence,

"Did it go well?" He paused, his fork midway to his plate, and sighed.

"It's nothing you need to worry about," he said, but the weight of his words suggested otherwise.

The dismissiveness of his tone irked me, fueling my frustration.

"What happened?" I pressed, unable to mask the irritation in my voice.

He met my gaze, a storm of emotions swirling in his eyes.

"Since when does that concern you?" he replied, a defensive edge to his voice that only served to heighten my worry.

"Since I've been... involved, in whatever this is between us," I retorted, struggling to keep my voice steady.

The fear I felt towards him was there, a nagging sensation at the back of my mind. But my desire for honesty, for some semblance of inclusion in his life, pushed me to challenge him.

"You think you're involved?" he questioned, scepticism lacing his words.

"Maybe not," I admitted.

"But I'm not a porcelain doll. I'm stronger than you think. And whatever this is... undefined or not, I'm not just a spectator in your life."

"This life, my world, it can be consuming, destructive. I can't... I won't let it take you too."

He looked at me then, really looked at me, as if seeing me for the first time. The storm in his eyes didn't abate, but there was a shift, a crack in the armour he wore so well. The silence that followed seemed to stretch endlessly, each second ticking by adding weight to the uncertainty hanging in the air. 

I watched him closely, searching his face for any sign of what he might be thinking, or feeling. It was as if I was seeing him anew, the complexities of the man before me both daunting and endearing.

"I'm not asking to be pulled into the darkness," I found myself saying, the words coming out softer, more vulnerable than I intended.

"But I can't be left in the shadows either. Whatever this is between us, undefined or not, it's real to me. And I can't... I won't be pushed aside."

He sighed, a sound so heavy with weariness that it momentarily shattered the barrier he had built around himself.  He began, his voice laced with a quiet intensity, 

"It's not about pushing you aside."

I felt a stir of frustration at his words, the instinctive need to argue, to fight and have him tell me what he was hiding. But looking into his eyes, revealed nothing, I hesitated. Maybe it wasn't about me. It was about him, about the burdens he carried, the decisions he had to make. For a long moment, he just looked at me, as if weighing the words he was to say, measuring the resolve behind them. 

Then, slowly, the edges of his hard expression softened, revealing a glimpse of vulnerability I had seldom seen.

"It's about protecting you from realities you shouldn't have to face," he finally continued, his voice low, almost hesitant.

"The things I deal with, the decisions I have to make—they will not always benefit you."

His admission hung in the air between us, a stark reminder of who he was—and what his priorities were. I took a deep breath, letting his words sink in, feeling their weight settle around me. It was a moment of clarity, understanding the gravity of what he had to do.

Could I stand to look at him when he was distant in the long run? Could I honestly deal with this as often as it happens? 

[AN]

Yeahhhhhhhhh.

Guess what he was doing?