After the somewhat normal argument we had, Lucas created his own little study in the corner of my room. He was busy taking calls and answering emails while I kept myself busy with pointless news.
By lunch, I was fed with a different kind of soup. I didn't know what it was exactly. It tasted too good to ask. Turns out, I wasn't allowed to eat food that's hard to swallow. But I was satisfied with the soup I'm fed to complain about.
Sigmund visited me late in the afternoon. He apologized for not being able to check earlier. The hospital was busy, he said. This was the hospital I donated to a few years back to keep it running. No wonder the nurses are polite. He checked my wounds and bruises which are as sore as the day I lost my virginity.
"Your bruises are fading quicker than they should be. Which is good," he said, scribbling something on the chart. "Your body is responding quite well despite what happened, Caterina. But you need your rest if you want to get the hell out of this hospital to have that wedding of yours." It was quite odd that Sigmund was able to joke like that, but the fact that I basically have amnesia isn't really a good time to raise the subject of wedding.
"Okay, Sigmund," Lucas interrupted, grabbing the poor doctor's shoulder. "How about you get out of here and we'll let her rest." The doctor could only chuckle his way out.
"There's no way in hell that I'm sleeping again." I shook my head and crossed my hands against my chest. Though my body is screaming with different kinds and levels of agony, my brain isn't as tired as I would've wanted, which means sleeping would be impossible.
"Yes you are," Lucas demanded, cocking his head towards the comfortable pillow I'm leaning against. I raised an eyebrow and narrowed my eyes, challenging him. "Or I can call a nurse and let them drug you."
"You wouldn't."
"I would." I knew Lucas wasn't kidding about telling the nurses to drug me but I wasn't backing down.
Since I woke up, I've been dying for a mug of coffee and a few miles to run. I wanted to pee since yesterday and there's no way in fucking hell will I be peeing in that damn tube. So I thought of it as an excuse to get up. I threw away the white covers that gracefully pooled on the floor, wanting to feel my feet on the ground. But I froze when I saw the mess of purple and blue and yellow bruises that painted my legs. A cold gush of air escaped my lips. The next thing I know, I was blinking away tears. I couldn't stop them from falling. The tremble of my hands as I carried them to my lips to stop my sobs was proof enough that I really did cheated death.
"Mari," Lucas called when he noticed my tears. He took the blanket off the floor and spread it back over my legs to cover the hideous tracks of the last few days. "Hey," he called again like he was soothing me. But there was no point, at the moment, nothing could calm me down, not until the gaps are filled and I'll know why I decided to walk into my deathbed. Lucas brings my chin up to meet his gaze. "You cheated death four times. Those bruises—" he points at my legs—"aren't enough to make you ugly. If anything it makes you a little hotter." I laughed at that and he chuckled back at my response. "There we go," he said. I wiped the tears away with the back of my palm and Lucas fluffed my pillow, letting me know he wanted me to lay down.
"Help me up," I said, sniffing as I raised my arm for him to take. "I need to pee." If my bladder isn't about to blow, I'd be embarrassed to ask Lucas about me needing to urinate, but beggars can't be choosers.
"You have a damn catheter," he pointed, but he takes my arm anyway. Though I can tell that he's opposed to my decision.
"I'm not fucking peeing on that thing," I snapped, forgetting about my painted legs. The tube has been making me uncomfortable since the second I woke up and my bladder doesn't exactly like the idea that there's a tube in there somewhere. "Call a nurse."
"Stay, Mari," he commanded, slowly putting down my hand as he left and looked for a nurse.
When he returns, a short blonde woman wearing Iron Man scrubs, tailing behind him.
"Good afternoon, Ms. Santelli," she smiled as she checked my chart on the bottom of my bed. She frowns as she scrolls through the pages.
"My bladder is about to explode," I pointed, a little irritated that she's taking too long to help me out of it. "And I'm not peeing on a tube."
"I'm afraid you can't get up, Ms. Santelli," she smiles apologetically. "You need to stay in bed for at least three days after consciousness."
"Mari, just listen to her," Lucas suggested.
"You can either help me, or I'll help myself," I challenged, scooting further off the bed. They could watch or they could help me but either way, I will be peeing on a damn toilet.
The nurse gave a defeated sigh. "Mr. De Marchi, why don't you go check the cafeteria's special today?" That was Lucas' cue to leave and give me my privacy. But before departing, he took my hand and brought it to his lips.
"Behave, Mari," he whispers. Then he leaves.
The nurse was right about me needing to stay in bed. My head spun the moment my feet carried my weight. If it wasn't for the nurse helping me stand, I would've fallen. My bathroom break was liberating to say the least and when the blonde nurse helped me back up on my bed, she told me to call for assistance if I needed to use the restroom again.I was lying in bed, alone, the sun visibly setting on the horizon from my window when Chase's head peeked from the door. He looked thinner than I remembered and his eyes were rimmed with dark circles. It was strange. Chase Clifford might just be one of the busiest men in the world but I've never seen him this tired before. My publicist and personal everything walked in the room, wearing slacks and a red designer sweater. His eyes instantly lifted when he saw me.
"You okay?" Lucas asked gravelly, slightly narrowing his eyes as it adjusted to the darkness. The right part of the room is dark. Only the faint light of the machine kept the door visible. On my left, the window made it well lit. Lucas' face was brightly illuminated with the light coming from his laptop screen. Suddenly his bone structure was improved, highlighted by the glow of his computer. "Uh-huh," I nodded. Turning to my side as I bury a hand under the pillow and the other under my chin, eyes still heavy. Thankfully the wires attached to my body to keep my vitals monitored were long enough for me to move as I please. But the rest of my joints and bruises protested. I see the city lights and the stars clearer than I did in my dream. It's breathtaking. "What are you doing?" I whispered sleepily. "Work," Lucas
three weeks later... Chase brought the perfect outfit for me to wear today, the day I get to leave this damn hospital—white high-waist sailor pants, a very low V-neck blouse with a matching white blazer, diamond studded heels and gold accessories to go. It screamed powerful, and was so fucking hot I was turned on just seeing myself in the mirror of my hospital room. I left my hair untouched which naturally waved along the small of my back like dark vines. I carried my Gucci square glasses as I took a long breath. The door opened and I turned to see Lucas, wearing a black leather jacket and jeans. I'd say he was a little bit underdressed but it was a fine look I've never seen him in before. Over the past three weeks, my memory went back, just like what Sigmund said. It all happened so fast. I'd eat my bre
Lucas~*~ Finally, we were leaving the suffocating air of the hospital. Almost a month, and I could finally go back to my version of a normal life without Sigmund breathing down my neck. I could get a real meal, a real shower, and get a real fucking sleep without watching and worrying about Mari. Yes, Mari. Tsk. Where do I start with this woman? Spending days with her changed things—changed me. I've watched her sleep sometimes, bought her meals she needed and wanted every damn fucking day, and snapped at the nurses whenever they made Mari squirm or groan. At first it was just me trying to be there for her in exchange for her putting her life in dan
The room was different when we got to the hospital to see my father. Unlike mine, the walls were mahogany, the room dim and the curtains blue. The bed was larger, looked comfier, and the beeping was more subtle and thin, and quiet. There were fresh flowers on top of the desk on the foot of the hospital bed—an arrangement of sunflowers and blood red roses. Although the room had been upgraded, it seemed that the person lying in it had worsened. He had gotten thinner, the wrinkles that were once barely there are now deep and refined. His cheekbones look higher and more hollow. The timely glow he used to have was replaced with paleness. I almost didn't recognize my own father. From what the doctor told me, he has yet to improve over the month he's been medically comatose. Doctor Cody, the doctor, told me that he stil
The following day, Lucas wasn't anywhere in the house which meant he's either out having a run or he's somewhere only God knows. I looked at the brightside. Alone and away from Lucas is what I needed after all those weeks spent with him. Theresa Wills, the British event planner I once liked, called me first thing in the morning before I had my coffee. Which means I was groggy and annoyed. "There aren't any changes, right?" she asked with her thick accent. "We're still going with the flowers and the lace?" "Yes, Theresa," I said nonchalantly as I made my way downstairs for breakfast. "Exactly what I told you." "Okay," she agreed, and although she could hear my irritation, she still kept it professional. "And the cake? Do you have any thoughts about it?"
Lucas ~*~ I paced on the mahogany floor of the study in my Milan penthouse. The television was buzzing in the corner of the room at how I 'assaulted' a press earlier today. My publicist has been ringing me since yesterday and telling me I should make a statement. But I was done with statements today. If it wasn't for Mari insisting on having a fucking statement released to the public, this wouldn't have happened. The woman was a pro at defying me and I was fucking steaming. My father called, asking why all of a sudden a mass of reporters were camping outside of Harriet's condo. So I had Jack brin
Lucas ~*~ By six in the evening the following day, I was already up in the air, the plane halfway through its journey. I was still fuming with anger at how Mari had ruined everything with one statement release. Now, all I wanted was to see her and put her in her place. Thankfully, everything was settled back in Italy. The scandal of how I attacked that journalist has died off thanks to my lawyers and publicist. But that didn't stop me from telling Harriet that she needed to get extra security. I knew that she wouldn't do it which was why I told Jack to stay back in Italy and keep tabs on her. Discreetly. When the plane landed, the rental car was waiting. So I didn't waste any time to go see Mari and give her a taste of her own medicine.