Chapter 69 The general
I walked down the hall; the young lady's voice grew louder with each step I took. She was screaming the same thing over and over again.
“Let me see her!"
I looked downstairs and saw Anastasia, my pupils dilated. "Hmm…boys!" I shouted, and they all looked up.
Her chest heaved. “I want to see her, but these people are stopping me!"
I gestured with my finger that she could come up, and she ran and dashed towards me with hesitation. “Third door on your right,” I said.
She ran past me, her red hair bouncing against her back. I glanced at her.
"Mrs. Davenport,” I heard my soldiers greet, and I spun to look back downstairs.
“Is my wife here?" I asked.
They all pointed upstairs, behind me. I slowly turned and saw Charlotte with bundles of towels in her hand. She looked at me wide-eyed. “You are here."
I walked to her. “You are here,” I repeated.
The towel fell from her hands as she hugged me. I hugged her back, gripping her tightly. The hug lasted for a few seconds before we both finally pulled away. “I love you,” my head pressed against her forehead.
“I love you too,” she smiled.
I gripped her hand tightly. “Let's go back home, Charlotte. I miss you; I want you to lie in my arms."
She looked at the ground. “I should get all these towels to Eloise's bedroom."
“Ask the men to pick it up,” I said.
She shook her head. “I should do it." She picked them up from the ground. I followed her closely until we reached Eloise's bedroom. Anastasia was hugging her, and they were both crying.
“Who is that?" Charlotte asked.
Anastasia turned around with red eyes.
“Oh…Anastasia," Charlotte said, as she realized who it was. “When did you get here?"
Anastasia wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "Hello." Her gaze moved to me. “Is she going to die?"
Becky shook her head. If I told Anastasia the truth, it would kill her. I understood why Becky wanted to lie, but was it a lie if I was going to make sure she survived?
“She's not dying, Anastasia; I gave her an antidote."
A smile curled at her lips, and she brushed her hair behind her ear. “You are going to be okay,” she cried.
Charlotte moved to place the towels in her hand on a chair at the other end of the room; she turned and walked back to me.
"Let's go home,” I said and grabbed her hand. As I tried to walk out, Charlotte pulled me back; she did nothing, her eyes moving to Becky and then back to me.
“What do you want?" I whispered.
“We have to take her home with us,” I whispered back.
My brows furrowed, “Why would we do that?"
She pressed her lips together, like she was so done with me. She then turned to face her. "Anastasia?"
Anastasia looked up.
“Would you like to sleep in our home today?"
Anastasia stayed silent.
“Or…do you have a home in the states?" Charlotte added.
Anastasia looked at Becky and then back at her. “I would rather stay with her,” she said.
“But Anastasia…,” Charlotte pressed, "you can't stay here."
Anastasia shook her head. “What if Becky needs me?"
Charlotte looked up at me. “Say something,” she whispered.
“Uh…. I'll ask the men to guard her."
“You should go,” Becky finally said.
“Please,” Charlotte begged.
Anastasia hesitated. “Are you sure you are going to be okay?" she asked.
Becky nodded.
Anastasia pulled away from her as if it was the hardest thing she had ever done and walked towards us. Charlotte let go of my hand and held hers.
Back in the car, Anastasia sat in between Charlotte and me; her face had no emotion, and she gazed at the road like a robot. Charlotte and I exchanged glasses. I so badly wanted to hold her hand, but I guess we would have to wait until we got home.
As the car sped down the road, Anastasia sniffed and wiped her eyes.
Charlotte's gaze narrowed. “Are you crying?"
“Leave me alone,” her voice shook.
“Oh my God, Anastasia…"
“I said leave me alone!" Anastasia shouted.
Charlotte fell silent, but with eyes filled with pity, she seemed to have something to say, but she forced it back in and placed her back against the seat.
Anastasia sniffed again; now you could hear her crying.
"Anna…," Charlotte said, her voice etched with worry.
“It's all my fault,” Anastasia choked.
“What is it?"
Anastasia finally looked at her. "Everything. We were together when she got poisoned. We would have been able to run off, but one of the men grabbed me…,” she sniffed. “She tried to defend me and got injected. If…if she didn't try to,”
Charlotte placed her hand on Anastasia's shoulders and pulled her into a hug. “It's okay, dear."
She leaned into the hug. “She didn't tell me she was leaving Russia,” she cried. “I think she blames me."
"Hey…don't say that it's not your fault." Charlotte patted her back. “It's okay."
“What if he dies?"
“She won't, she won't,” Charlotte assured.
When we got back home, the both of them went into one of the guest bedrooms; Charlotte lay in bed with Anastasia, patting her until she slept.
I had never seen this side of Charlotte before; there was something attractive about it. She would make such a good mom.
I leaned against the door, my eyes fixed on Charlotte. As I noticed that Anastasia had slept, I moved into the room. “Baby,” I whispered, but Charles didn't answer.
“My love," I called again.
I moved closer and noticed that she had fallen asleep. I clenched my fists; I had wanted her to sleep with me tonight.
I knelt beside her and watched her sleep. I so badly wanted to wake her up, but I didn't want to risk waking both of them. I reached for her face and brushed one strand of hair off it.
“Good night, vita mia." I placed a gentle kiss on her cheeks, subtle so that she wouldn't wake up, and then I got up to leave the bedroom. As I walked down the hall, Marcus stood still with his hands clasped before him.
“Boss,” he said as he saw me.
I took off my suit jacket and walked past him, clutching it in my hand, “Get me a glass of whiskey."
"Boss!" he called again.
I turned to face him. “Fine, get me a whole bottle of whiskey; with how badly my day has gone, I need it,” he said and began to walk again.
"Boss!" Marcus shouted again.
I spun around in anger. “My wife is fucking sleeping; wake her up and you die,” I threatened.
He moved closer to me. “General Rocco is here,” he panted.
I froze; General Rocco was one of the soldiers, the one who I left in charge of my Italian army.
“What is he doing here?" I asked.
“He said he would only speak to you,” Marcus explained, "but with the look on his face I can tell he is pissed."
“Rocco always looked pissed," I hissed as I walked downstairs to the living area.
Rocco was a man in his mid-fifties; he had brown hair and brown eyes, he had a stern look on his face, and he had a voice that brought silence to a room. I saw him in the living room with his hands clutched behind his back; he had on a black overcoat and the kind of hat you'd only catch an old man wearing.
“General,” I said as I saw him.
He had been observing a painting on the wall; he turned around at the sound of my voice. “Damien,” he took off his cap, placed it against his chest, and bowed to me.
“I didn't order for you to come here."
“I know, sir." He placed the cap back on his head. "I hear of the happenings and have decided to come here to help you solve it."
"Happenings?"
“I hear there is a woman who has poisoned your face while your relationship is in danger,” his brow raised.
I looked back at a few of my soldiers who had just walked in. “The men sure have a lot of free time on their hands to gossip, don't they?" I remarked.
Rocco chuckled; he was the only one who could do that with a straight face. “A bottle of whiskey and two glasses, please." He waved at a soldier.
"Yes, General,” he replied and walked off.
Rocco moved to a seat, and I moved to sit beside him.
“I am a little offended that you have not introduced me to the wife yet, boss. I thought we were closer than that,” he commented.
I raked my fingers through my hair. “It's not like that, General."
“Forgive me for meddling, but … why hasn't the threat been eliminated yet?"
“She has a bounty on my wife's head,” I said. “If I, Eloise Charlotte, die,"
The soldier who had gone to bring the glass of whiskey arrived with it and placed filled glasses in our hands; he placed the bottle on the table, bowed, and walked off.
“People are hearing of your situation, boss; you cannot eliminate a woman, it makes you look weak."
“I can generally, but…."
“But? The boss I once knew, the one whom I respect, does not know the meaning of that word; he kills." His tone changed; it was bitter, it was angry.
"Charlotte's life is primary, Rocco."
Disappointment flashed in his eyes. “All because of a woman?"
“All because of a woman that I love,”
He smirked, “He told me you'd say that."
I stood up. “Who is he? What did he say, I'd say?"
“I knew you wouldn't take the occasion to the boss, so I took matters into my own hands." He stood
up to face me.
“What matters?" Anger rose within me; I knew the general could be impulsive.
“Our men are going after Elosie as we speak."
My heart dropped; if Eloise died, then Charlotte died too.