Chapter Three: Period

“Anything?”

The more the man repeats that word, the more sinful it sounds.

But I can give ‘anything’ and everything to keep my organs intact; I have no qualms about donating, but can't it be to someone I can wish well for? Can't it be by my will? Can't I have more of a say than this?

So, I guess in this case, ‘anything’ fits.

I nod slowly to the man’s repetition, and his chuckle echoes as he bends over to collect me from the ground.

"Boss, I can carry her."

One of the men in black around him offers, but he shakes his head.

"She is my dog now."

My arms surround his shoulders, accepting his demeaning term of me because if I can survive the night, then I will clutch on to the devil himself.

The man smells good, like aftershave and a subtle hint of expensive cologne.

His deep chuckle follows when I bury my nose against his chest.

“She even smells me like a dog.”

He utters, making me jerk my face away from him.

Shit. This is embarrassing.

“Well, don't stop now, doggy. I'm your new owner; you should know how I smell.”

Were I in my usual state, I would have pushed him off and reprimanded his cocky attitude, but I need him. Worse, the adrenaline in my veins seems to slow to a simmer because, for some reason, I feel safe.

"Mr D’Amico.”

My body freezes at the familiar voice.

" I am so sorry; I do not know how my patient slipped from her room. I will take her from your hands-”

“Doctor…”

The man holding me drawls in question.

“Doctor Harison.”

The doctor introduces himself.

“Yes, Doctor Harison, do you intend to steal my dog from me?”

I can sense the doctor’s hesitation; the man holding me must have enough power for everyone to treat his words as if they were real. If he says I am a dog, the doctor, no, everyone must refer to me as a dog.

"Uhm…forgive me Mr. D’Amico. The…um dog has an owner. Miss Olivia’s husband is looking for her."

My hands squeeze his shoulders when I feel his hands loosen against me.

"I-I asked for a divorce.”

The words were supposed to be a yell; I uttered them with all the energy in my being, but they sounded like a trembling whisper: Christ, why am I still shaking?

Am I truly not safe?

"Ma'am, you are bothering Mr-"

“Did you not hear me, or are you playing deaf for my amusement? The dog in my arms is mine. I own every inch of it, including its right to speak. If you speak to my pet, I will assume you are speaking to me rudely.”  

"But...she is- I mean, your pet is due for surgery, Mr. D’Amico.”

“At one a.m.? Where is Professor Green? He approves of all procedures first.”

“Professor Green is... engaged, and this is an emergency."

Shaking my head from side to side in disagreement with the words of the doctor causes ‘Mr D’Amico’s’ hand to stroke my hair and press my head firmly against his chest.

"Speak to my men. John, get his name, ID and medical licence number. My dog is getting tense. I want to tuck it in."

I hate the way he calls me his dog but if he were to ask me to bark so that I stay with him, I would.

I cannot believe the lengths Vincent is pushing me to.

"Miss James, your husband is waiting for you at the lobby; you are a married woman; what you are doing is very disgraceful."

The doctor yells as the man holding me walks away.

I want to yell something at his words, but nothing leaves me when a slapping sound fills the air.

Wait? Who slapped who?

“Shh…sleep now, cagna.”

Cagna? What is that?

I barely get the chance to ask as my body follows his command as if I were hypnotised.

**

My eyes feel heavy, and my body as well, but the sterile scent forces me to jolt upright from the bed.

"No! I didn’t sign the papers!"

I scream on impulse before taking in the expensive-looking hospital room.

The pounding of my head brings my hand to the bandage on my forehead.

Right...the fall, Natasha and…I let a stranger take me to safety.

I am safe.

"Feeling better?”

A deep voice asks all too suddenly before my heart has the chance to settle its beating.

"Christ, you..."

My breath catches in my throat as I take in the man who looked blurry yesterday.

Isn't he too handsome?

"…You scared me."

I finish as I clear my throat.

His scoff is light before he takes off his coat and uncuffs his shirt in such a sexy way that I cannot help but follow his movements.

“It is too early to drool; besides, you have guests, cagnolina."

Cagnolina?

He doesn't await my response merely walks to the door and opens it. The two people seated outside stand and rush inside the room.

How cold! I have barely stretched to dismiss the fatigue hounding my body, and he let them in?

"Livy? What is the meaning of this!"

Vincent asks loudly.

"Do you have any idea how much we looked for you? How can you be this inconsiderate? You know Vincent’s mum is in the ICU."

Natasha joins in before I raise my hand to silence them.

"I want a divorce, Vincent."

“Get..."

Vincent begins in anger before he turns his gaze to my handsome but condescending saviour and lowers his tone.

"Let's discuss that later; first, let's get you back to your bed."

"You were planning on going ahead with the surgery without my consent?"

"My mother is in a bad way, Olivia; I-I didn’t have a choice!"

“I am in a bad way, Vincent, and you put me here!"

My hands push off my sheets to further explain my point without interruption.

"My knees are scraped because I had to physically crawl away from the rooms so that you wouldn’t harvest my-"

An irritated sound leaves his throat before he cuts me off completely.

"Think about this, Olivia, before you spout any more shit about a divorce. You are in a room alone with another man, and there are several witnesses. I am seconds away from granting your ridiculous divorce request, and with this kind of proof of an affair, I can guarantee you will walk away without a cent from me. So, let's go back to your room and talk like adults before-"

"I don't need your money. I have never needed your money."

I respond, and all too quickly, his face sours into a sneer before he turns to face Natasha.

“Livy, you don't understand what you are doing or how tough this economy is. I mean, you didn't even finish school; what will an almost thirty-year-old divorcee do on her own? Vincent gave you everything, and you can't even-”  

"I'll bring the divorce documents next week, Vincent. Let's meet by the Café fountain near your office.”

I say, interrupting Natasha—she isn’t saying much anyway.

"You know what, Olivia? Fine.”

Vincent says.

"You won't last without me.”

With that, he turns out the door, leaving me with a smiling, handsome devil who looks more entertained by my misery than I am.

“You broke, cagnolina?"

He asks.

“I will pay you back, I promise."

I utter quickly, trying my best to keep my tears at bay and my legs still because God help me, I still want to run to Vincent and ‘talk’ until I ‘understand’ him—maybe listen until his sob story makes me yield to his reasoning, and I wind up on that cold operating table.

"Give me your contacts; I will reach out as soon as I finalise the divorce."

**

"You seriously think you can last a day without me or the funds-"

"I never needed your money.”

I answer Vincent with ease as I play with the coffee cup on the table. I ordered one, but I can't bring myself to drink it. ‘Next week’ reached too soon.

"Did you even love me, or were you only waiting to break me, Olivia? I gave you everything I had; all I asked for was for you to help my mother. All I-”

"You need to sign before I can leave, Vincent."

I remind, cutting him off.

If we start talking, we will never stop, and the longer I stay seated next to him, the more I want to ask, ‘Where did we go wrong?’.

"Cold-hearted bitch."

I still at his cold words and watch as his hands move swiftly to stain the white paper.

Three years. Three years of ‘us’ have been reduced to a blue stain on a dotted line.

"Try not to crawl back to me, and in case you are wondering, Natasha turned out to be a match. She will be donating a piece of her liver to my mother tomorrow. She is working but took some time off. Imagine that my friend did what my wife couldn’t."

“Looks like you should have married her, instead of keeping her as your mistress.”

He scoffs coldly.

"I guess so. I will never forgive you for this, Olivia."

The words ‘me too’ do not leave my lips because ‘my’ Vincent was threatening me.

‘My Vincent’.

The same ‘Vincent’ who cried when he saw me walk down the Aisle.

How quickly he has become a stranger.

His stand from the table is quick leaving me alone in the crowded place.

He said I was waiting to break him.

Is he-

My phone rings loudly in my pocket, so rather than let my loud thoughts consume me, I answer it.

“Yes?”

"Livy, Mum heard about your divorce. Sorry, siz, she is mad-mad. She called us all home for a mandatory meeting."

The call ends, leaving me staring at my device.

'Love does not exist for billionaires.'

Mother's words find me before a black Bentley, which seems to attract everyone's attention, pulls up from across the street.

The driver walks out to open the door while staring openly at me.

I never thought I'd be going back; then again, I never thought mother would be right.

Love doesn't exist, period.

“Miss Lawson, it’s good to have you back.”

The driver says with a slight bow when I near the car.