My Surrogate, My Love... (Mafia Romance, 18+)

Chapter ten

Leandro's p.o.v

I finally walk into the house, fatigued and completely famished from all the travelling. But finally, finally, I've gotten that which I had been pursuing, and I am content. As soon as next month, my warehouses will be fully stocked with ammunition and weaponry of all kinds, from the black market weaponry manufacturing industries in America, courtesy of Lenia's father.

But why is the house so quiet, though?
"Lenia! Lenia, mîà rósà, where are you? Catherine!"
The house is unusual empty, desolate. Catherine never leaves at this time. But it's only six thirty, so maybe she's gone to get some groceries?

Making my way into the kitchen area, I spot a small note from Catherine pinned against the counter; the woman's left to go visit her family, since it is Easter. Fine by me. She works hard, works smart, definitely deserves a break, and an increase in salary. Not that she isn't paid handsomely for her services, but still.

I mount the sickening, spiral steps, and slide past the doors to my room. Pitch darkness, quiet emptiness. Peculiar. Lenia knew I'd be coming home today, so she couldn't possibly be asleep at such early hours. I flip the switch, and instantly, the chandelier floods the room with the harmonious, white lighting. Then, my gaze travels towards the four-poster bed, and what my eyes manage to make out, cause my heart palpitations to heighten.

"Lenia? Lenia, what have they done!"
There on the soft mattress, is lain the love of my life, lifeless, soul ripped from body, knife driven into her chest, right through her heart, I'm sure. But it can't be! She...she can't be dead. No!
My feet glide over to where her stationary body is rested, and I will myself to feel her pulse. Nothing! No pulse. Gradually, my chest begins to constrict, lumps beginning to knot in my throat. I can't breath, won't breath. Tears temporarily blind my vision, freely cascading down my cheeks.

Her silver, striking eyes stare into nothingness, beautiful blonde hair spread out against the bed, sheets and carpeted floors soaked in so much blood, drenched completely, her arms gently placed, one over the other, against her womb. Our child is gone, that's the painful reality, a harsh truth. My life is gone, flashed down the toilet. Fate just punched me right in the gut, told me to go fuck myself. The heavens must be punishing me for all the lives I've taken, for all my sins.

"Lenia, you can't leave me."
But she just did...
"Not yet, mîà rósà. Please come back," It is a soft plea, my forehead resting against her folded arms, as I kneel next to her and mourn her demise. The love of my life, no longer in existence.

"Tè sèî sîgnîfîcàntó pèr mè, mîà rósà. Come back to me, pèr fàvórè," I beg in between sobs.
"Who did this to you, mîà rósà! Who?"
In that moment, I lift my head and spot a note right above Lenia's head. How did I not see it before? I hastily snatch it, read it. On it is, the name 'Savage'.

Who the hell is this Savage fucker? Wiping stray tears, I phone Costello and Giovanni, briefly explain most of the details, trying with all my might, to keep it together. In no time, they are budging into my room.

When they spot Lenia's lifeless body on the bed, that becomes their undoing. Sure they have seen countless dead bodies before, grotesque sights, appalling scenes, but those were the bodies of our enemies, not the bodies of the ones we loved ones.
"Lenia, Leniaaaa!"

"Leandro, wake up. It's only a bad dream. Calm down, please," from a distance, Eva's voice calls out to me.
My eyes snap open, whole body trembling, beads of sweat trickling down my forehead and spine, wound now bleeding through the gauze, from all the aggressive movements I'd been making.

Eva combs her fingers gently through my hair, massaging, smoothing, feeling, whilst she embraces me, whispering lowly into my ear. Her palms smooth my back, before her body pulls away, her concerned eyes now clashing with mine.

Our foreheads press softly, as she works to rest one of her palms against my chest.
"Breath with me, okay? In, out. In, out. One last time. In, out. There we go, you're doing great. You'd just suffered an anxiety attack. Do you want to tell me what you saw?"

"I'm fine, Eva. Thank you."
She only nods her head in comprehension, and I appreciate that she doesn't nudge or pester for answers. I don't want to speak of my past, receive sympathy from another, no use wailing over spilt milk. I've already revealed enough vulnerability as it is.
"You need some water, Leo?"
"Yes, that would be great."

She pours me a glass of water, and I down the whole drink all at once. Unwrapping the injury, she takes time cleansing it, stitching the popped stitches, wrapping it up one more time.
"Thank you," my mouth speaks before my mind can register, while I hand her the glass.

It's only three in the morning, and Eva needs to rest because of her condition. She's been up and running for most part of the night, and I detest that I am somewhat a baggage to her. Yawning, she pads towards the bed, and lays down next to me, her back pressing against my chest. I wrap an arm around her narrow waist, drawing her closer, thankful that she doesn't protest.

I let my body take comfort, find solace in hers. Maybe it's wrong, maybe I'm wrong for pulling her to me, but in this moment, to me, it feels right. I know she is fighting sleep, battling to stay awake, but why?
"Sleep, àmórè."
"I sleep when I'm sure you are asleep, Leandro."

Ah, what can I say. The girl's stubborn, a feisty little thing, and that, to me, is sexy. She is not scared to stand up for herself, stand up for her beliefs, is ready to put up a spirited fight, even though she's fully aware that she'll lose, she's not one to reveal weakness. She's gone through hell, that I can tell, and that's what makes her stronger than most females I've encountered, key word being 'most'.

"I'm sorry, àmórè."
"About what?"
"For strangling you the way I did. I shouldn't have," I strain to confess, an unfamiliar pang settling deep within my chest, utterly combusting me.
Guilt? I never feel guilty about anything, so how come?

"Don't worry, Leo. I'd rather we forget about it if at all you do value your life. Now, sleep. Goodnight."
I am well aware that she's wished me a tormenting death, after our encounter, but I'm almost certain she'd never taint her hands with my blood.

She might have vowed to execute me, but she's nothing like me...like us, hence will not act on those vows. I let out a long breathe, shutting my eyes momentarily and soon, I'm actually drifting into slumber.

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