Cristiano's Craving

Twenty Three

Rose

A phone was ringing.

My eyebrows creased as I moaned tiredly, Cris moving underneath me.

I heard him shift a little by my side, the duvet moving as he moved around, groaning softly and picking up his phone, answering. I snuggled into my pillow, my eyes closed as I tried to sleep, through I knew I wouldn't sleep anytime soon.

"Do you know what fucking time it is?" I heard him ask, his voice huskily thick with sleep. On the other line, the person was male and loud. I couldn't decipher what he was saying as he spoke too fast however, he seemed to be explaining something important.

"I'll check it out," Cristiano replied sleepily as I heard him yawn quietly. "What? Are you serious?" He bursted, his voice so powerfully demanding that it scared me.

"Five minutes and bring a clean up crew."

He hung up before groaning loudly in frustration. I heard the smack of what seemed to be his phone slamming against the wall as he threw it.

My eyes opened at that point and I watched as he got out of bed harshly, throwing the duvet behind him.

"Cris," I groggily said, rubbing my eyes as I yawned softly, watching him pick up his phone. He rolled his eyes, placing on the dresser as he sighed.

"What's wrong?" I asked, in concern, raising an eyebrow. I held back from yawning and he took out some clothes, turning to face me.

"Nothing," Cristiano replied emotionlessly, putting on some sweat pants and a shirt. His eyes were darker and a cold, dangerous look that I didn't like was on his face. "Go to bed, Rose."

"W-"

"Rose," he seriously said, no humour in his tone. "Just leave it, please."

I looked away, feeling intimidated. He left the room and I sighed softly, rubbing my eyes. I groaned, flopping my body back down on the bed as I yawned, extremely tired.

I rested in bed for a while, wondering where Cristiano had gone and my thoughts were answered when I heard him in the boxing ring, yelling.

My eyebrows furrowed and I stood, pulling down Cris's shirt on me and swiftly going over to the window. I opened the curtains and looked down, my eyes expanding as I saw him.

He had a man against the wall, his large hand around this throat and a gun to his head. "So, you thought you could fucking steal 350k worth of drugs from me, Dave? Did you really fucking think that would work out well?"

"This entire time, you-" he punched the man roughly, breaking his nose that started to bleed. "-fucking lied! You're the snitch! And now it's gonna cost you."

My hand went against the window and I swallowed roughly, preparing for what was to come.

He punched him twice then he violently wrapped his hands around his neck, choking the man as he wheezed and begged for his life, crying. My face crumpled as he took out a knife. I shook my head, covering my mouth as I held back from screaming.

He was stabbing the man, over and over, blood splattering and gushing out of the unconscious body. I gasped loudly, a muffled scream leaving my mouth as the limp body dropped to the ground, a pool of blood forming around it.

My knees suddenly felt weak and I had to grip the bar to steady myself. I looked down, my stomach doing summersaults. I felt so sick.

Then he looked up and our eyes locked. The clean up men came in, beginning to do their work but his eyes never left mine.