Chapter 33: D A R I O

I put all of my new clothes away in the walk-in closet of my new room and took a shower in the bathroom. When I got out, it wasn’t time to get dressed for the party yet, so I just threw on a pair of jeans and a shirt. I wanted to see what my neighbor was up to so I threw on some shoes, I grabbed the keys and left the apartment.

I got up to Hera’s door and decided to announce myself by knocking. To avoid getting a gun pointed at my face again. I smirked to myself; what a woman.

Hera opened the door and asked what I was doing here. She had one towel wrapped in her hair and one wrapped around her body and I became very aware that she was naked under the cotton tucked under her arms. I cleared my throat to cool my arousal and said,

“Den eínai óra na etoimastó akóma. Boró na káno paréa mazí sou?”

*“It’s not time for me to get ready yet. Can I hang out with you?”*

Hera studied me for a few moments before opening her door to let me in. She asked me if I wanted a drink and I nodded my head. I didn’t realize she was going to make us some cocktails. She poured a ginger soda into two cups then filled them up with vodka and squeezed lime. She handed me mine and I followed her into her room, sipping my very stiff drink.

Hera excused herself into her walk in closet and I took a seat in one of her bedroom chairs. She emerged out of the closet in a pair of black boxer shorts and a black sports bra that had a zipper in the front, her wet hair out of the towel. I followed her with my eyes as she went into the bathroom, drink in tow. I heard her turn on a blow dryer and I pulled out my phone.

Xander messaged me back about my threat of telling Ambrosio of his insubordination, but the carnage of last night seems like a hundred years ago. I no longer cared about what happened last night. I no longer cared about the petty bull shit between captains. All I cared about now was keeping Hera from *him*, and figuring out how to make her mine. I didn’t even reply to Xander.

Hera turned off her blow dryer then stuck her head out of her bathroom and asked if I wanted to hang out with her while she did her hair in there. I stood and said,

“I have one condition.”

Hera raised her brow and I asked,

“Can we smoke in there?”

A smile spread across Hera’s face and she nodded,

“You know where they are.”

She returned to the bathroom and I walked into her walk-in closet for the box of joints. I opened the box and then noticed Hera’s phone on the counter next to the box. I looked back behind me to see if Hera was still in the bathroom. I quickly picked up her phone and opened it. I open her message app and look for any contact that would imply *him*, but nothing. I heard Hera shuffle in the bathroom and I quickly put her phone back down how I found it and grabbed a joint from the open box and left the closet.

I sat on one end of the bathroom counter while I lit up. Hera was curling her hair and pinning it up, and helping me with my spliff. When she had her hair all pinned up I followed her to her closet where she sat at her vanity. I sat on the counter directly behind her so I could watch her through her mirror. There was something about her that I just had to be around. I wanted her so bad.

The buzzing phone next to me made me sever my eyes from Hera to look down to see who it was, even though I already knew. My jaw clenched when I saw that fucking Sicily area code. I looked up at Hera through the mirror. Her eyes were icy white when she said,

“I’ll call back later.”

I didn’t take my eyes off her as I reached down to silence the phone. I said,

“Ambrosio told me he was married.”

Hera’s eyes stayed white when she took a deep breath then nodded her head. She looked at me and said,

“You're disappointed.”

I took my eyes off her and looked at the ground. Of course I was disappointed. I kept my eyes on the floor and tried to hide my jealousy when I said,

“I just don’t know why someone as smart and as gorgeous as you, would mess around with a married man on the other side of the globe.”

Hera’s eye stayed white and I became sick to my stomach. Now I’m hurting her. She nearly whispered when she said,

“You wouldn’t understand.”

I could see her eyes welling up with tears and it felt like I was hung on a hook. I hopped off the counter and kneeled beside her vanity chair, grabbed her hands, and pleaded,

“Try me.”

She shook her head and said,

“You’re going to think I’m fucking crazy.”

I stayed on my knees, still holding her hands. She studied me for what seemed like an eternity. She took one hand back to finish the remains in her cup and she took a deep breath. Her eyes stayed icy and I could tell everything she was doing to try to calm herself down wasn’t working. She finally said,

“For the last five years, every single night, I have had the same dream.”

Hera paused, her eyes almost completely frozen over. I could tell she was hurting. I wanted to stop. I wanted to pull her into my arms and hold her until she was whole again. I wanted to take the pain away. But I needed this information. For Ambrosio. For the family. She took another deep shaky breath and said,

“I dream of the day my father was killed. Ummm….”

She was literally choking back tears when she asked what I knew of her fathers passing. I said,

“He was murdered. Everyone he was with, his whole crew, shot and killed.”

Hera gripped my hands as she nodded. A tear dropped from one of her icy eyes onto her cheek and I gently wiped it off her face with my thumb. She said,

“It is true everyone was shot, it is not true everyone was killed.”

She lifted her sports bra to reveal a tattoo of an olive branch just under her right breast. Under further inspection, it was covering a gunshot wound. I gently rubbed my thumb over the raised skin concealed in black ink. I clenched my jaw. I wanted whoever did this to my Hera dead. But what does this have to do with the *Italian*? I looked back up into Hera’s icy eyes, hoping she’d continue without me having to prod her more. She took another shaky breath and said,

“In my dreams, Emiliano saves me.”

*His* name coming out of her mouth made me want to spit fire. But I held my composure while she continued,

“He’s the one that picks me up and gets me to safety. He’s the one that takes me to the hospital. He’s the one that waits for me to get out of surgery. He is the one that sits wirh me through my coma. He is the reason I am alive.”

My fury turns to full rage and I have to look at the ground to center myself. I wanted to grab her by the arms and shake her out of it, tell her it’s just a dream. I take a deep breath. This is a lot. A lot of information. A lot of hurt. A lot of trauma.

I looked back into her eyes, still white, this time being drowned by the tears she refused to cry. I pulled her off her chair and into my arms. At first she was apprehensive, but then she put her face on my chest and cried. I held her while she unleashed her tears. I wanted to take all her pain away.