31

[REBECCA]
Disorientation gripped me as I slowly regained consciousness, my head throbbing relentlessly. I struggled to open my eyes, only to be blinded by the harsh sunlight filtering through the window. Reflexively, I shut them again, seeking solace from the brightness.
Confusion gnawed at me, and a sense of unease jolted me awake. With a sudden surge of alarm, I sat up in bed, realizing that this wasn’t my familiar room. I glanced down and noticed the soft black comforter, a sight that struck panic into my heart. Everything around me seemed strangely familiar yet foreign at the same time.
In a rush of adrenaline, I turned my head to the left, and a startled cry escaped my lips. Beside me sat Artemy, his back resting against the headboard, silently observing my frantic state. It dawned on me that I was in his room, a revelation that sent shivers down my spine.
The last thing I remembered was succumbing to exhaustion, collapsing onto my own bed, surrendering to the sweet embrace of sleep. But beyond that, my memory was a blank slate, devoid of any recollection.
“How did I end up here?” I asked, clutching the comforter and pulling it closer to my trembling frame. Artemy raised an eyebrow, surprise etched across his face.
“You don’t remember?” he queried, his voice husky from sleep.
I shook my head, my anxiety mounting. He scrutinized me for a moment, an air of tension enveloping us. An awkward pause hung between us before he finally spoke again.
“You came to me last night,” he revealed, his words hanging heavy in the air.
Confusion wracked my mind. “What do you… mean?”
Exasperation laced his voice as he sighed. “You had a panic attack. You came to my room, knocked on my door, and pleaded with me to help you. I did, and then you fell asleep on my bed,” Artemy explained, his gaze fixed on me. Once he finished, he awaited my response with a hint of expectation.
I brought my hand to my forehead, massaging my temples in an attempt to alleviate the pounding headache. As I closed my eyes, fragmented images of the previous night flashed through my mind in rapid succession.
The nightmare that engulfed me, the hallucinations that tore at my sanity, the tears streaming down my face, and my desperate pleas to Artemy to make it all stop. I recalled his soothing voice, assuring me that there was no blood on my trembling arms.
Abruptly, my eyes flew open, and I gazed at Artemy in a state of shock. He arched an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes as he made a disapproving sound. “Ah, so you remember now.”
Embarrassment and shame washed over me, causing me to avert my gaze from his penetrating stare. My throat turned dry, and a chilling coldness enveloped my body.
The room fell into a heavy silence, both of us suspended in stillness, as the weight of the night’s events settled between us.
As the tense moments stretched on, I anxiously licked my lips, gathering the courage to make my move towards the edge of the bed. Artemy’s silence hung heavy in the air, and I kept my eyes downcast as I pushed the comforter aside and gingerly stepped off the bed.
“Just walk away, Rebecca. Walk away,” I silently urged myself, desperate to escape the situation. I locked my knees together, determined to keep my composure as I continued my retreat.
Reaching the door, I was startled by Artemy’s voice filling the room, causing me to tense up and freeze in place. “Are you seriously going to leave without saying anything?” he questioned, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.
That was my intention. I had hoped he wouldn’t say anything, but clearly, my naivety had led me astray. I had always regarded him as the good guy, but maybe I was mistaken.
“He is the good guy, though,” I argued with myself, torn between conflicting thoughts.
“Rebecca, turn around,” Artemy ordered, his voice cold and firm.
His tone sent a shiver down my spine, and with a hesitant swivel, I reluctantly faced him. My head remained bowed, refusing to meet his judgmental and inquisitive gaze.
The bed squeaked, drawing my attention to his movements from the corner of my eye. I noticed for the first time that he was dressed differently than usual, clad in gray sweatpants and a fitted, long black shirt that accentuated his chest.
Confidently and with fluid strides, he closed the distance between us. When he stopped in front of me, my heart skipped a beat, anxiety flooding my senses and tension coiling in my stomach. I knew what he was going to ask, and I lacked the answers he sought. They were answers he wouldn’t want to hear.
He firmly gripped my chin between his fingers, tilting my head up so our eyes locked. Coldness emanated from his gaze, and I glimpsed anger simmering within.
A shiver coursed through me, and I clenched my hands into fists, my nails digging into my palms. The faint pain served as a grounding reminder amidst the turmoil.
“Explain,” he demanded, his eyes narrowing into slits.
But I couldn’t. The truth was beyond my reach, and the words caught in my throat, struggling to escape.
“There is nothing to… explain,” I stammered, the weight of his fingers on my chin intensifying as anger flared in his eyes.
“Rebecca, I can tell when you’re lying. And I fucking despise being lied to. It’ll be in your best interest to tell me the truth. Explain what happened last night.”
Artemy’s anger emanated from him like an ominous aura, his entire body tensed and his icy gaze pierced through me, revealing his true nature as the heartless mafia boss he was.
“I swear, it was just a nightmare,” I pleaded, knowing that sharing the complete truth would only make him see me as the daughter of his archenemy rather than a victim.
“Damn it,” he growled, releasing his grip on my chin. “You’re lying, Rebecca.” His intense glare forced me to shrink back and lower my gaze, fearful of his wrath.
But lying was my only defense, my only chance at survival, at least for the time being.
“No, I’m telling the truth,” I whispered, taking an unconscious step backward. He noticed and closed the distance with a step forward.
“You had a panic attack. You were hallucinating, seeing blood on yourself. You were crying, completely losing it. That wasn’t just a nightmare,” he asserted, each word dripping with fury.
“No.” I shook my head, desperately hoping he would believe my hastily crafted excuse. Even if he didn’t, I prayed he would let the matter rest.
However, being Artemy meant he never let things go so easily.
“Did you witness a murder?” he asked, his tone slightly softer but still laced with hardness.
At his question, my heart sank, and I felt an overwhelming urge to crumble and weep. Yes, I had witnessed murder- not just one, but multiple cold-blooded killings.
Raffaele had mercilessly ended lives before my eyes, indifferent to my terrified screams.
Avoiding Artemy’s piercing gaze, I shook my head. “No,” I whispered, the lie leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.
His rigid blue eyes narrowed, and his intense stare burned into me, causing tremors of unease and fear to course through my body.
“Damn it, did you kill someone? Are you on the run? Is that it?” His voice, loud and harsh, reverberated in the air around us.
My eyes widened, and I flinched at his assumption. Could he truly believe I was capable of taking a life?
“No. No,” I vehemently denied, my head shaking wildly. “I didn’t kill anyone.”
“Rebecca, you were hallucinating about blood on yourself. So, either you’re a killer or you witnessed a murder. Which is the truth?” His patience was wearing thin.
“I didn’t kill anyone, and I didn’t witness a murder. I’m telling the truth. It was just a nightmare-a terrible one that made me lose control. That’s all,” I insisted, staring into Artemy’s eyes, only to find disbelief reflected back at me.
In a final attempt, I pleaded, “Please, believe me. Please.”
He glared at me, frustration evident as he ran his fingers through his hair. “You may appear innocent, Rebecca, but you’re so stubborn.”
As he took a step closer, our bodies drew near until we were mere breaths apart. His words echoed in the air, promising protection if only I would reveal the truth. Oh, how desperately I wanted to believe him. My heart stumbled, and tears welled up in my eyes. I yearned for someone to shield me, to keep me safe.
But I knew deep down that Artemy wouldn’t protect me if he knew the truth. Instead, he would bring about my demise. It was as simple as that. Unable to meet his gaze any longer, a wave of shame and guilt washed over me. Shame for the things I had endured, for I was not the innocent person he believed me to be.
The guilt weighed heavily upon me as well, knowing that I had deceived him while living under his roof, benefiting from his kindness when I didn’t deserve it. Confusion enveloped my thoughts as I tried to comprehend why I sought solace in him during my darkest hour. Why did I turn to him?
Artemy’s frustration became evident as he took a step back, and my brow furrowed in confusion. Slowly, I lifted my head to meet his gaze. His eyes were devoid of any emotion, leaving me puzzled and uncertain.
With an air of strange calmness, he uttered, “Fine.”
What? This man enjoyed toying with my mind, never allowing me to truly understand him. “You believe me?” I asked, astonishment lacing my voice.
He let out a harsh laugh, dismissing any notion of belief. “Believe you? No, kitten. I don’t believe you. But I will accept what you’re saying for now.” Stepping forward, he leaned down, his lips hovering near my ear. “You will eventually tell me the truth. It’s only a matter of time.”
His words struck me like lashes against my skin, causing me to recoil in shock. Artemy stepped away, offering me a nod before turning his back and heading towards the bathroom. “I’ll see you at breakfast,” he declared, disregarding me with a single glance.
I stared at his retreating figure, my eyes wide with disbelief. As he closed the bathroom door, blocking my view of him, a sigh of relief escaped my lips. The tension in my muscles subsided, but his words continued to reverberate in my mind.
“It’s only a matter of time.”
Turning on my heel, I left his bedroom in a daze and retreated to my own room. He was right. The truth couldn’t remain hidden forever. How much longer could I conceal it? The weight of that question lingered heavily within me.