Chapter 24: TWENTY FOUR

RAFFAELE

I had never been livider in my life than I was right now. The sight of Celestia ruined on the ground, smeared in soil and a bastard trying to climb on top of her was enough to morph my white-hot anger into a colossal inferno.

All it needed was a match to light everything around me on fire.

But the little did I know that there was something potent within myself, something stronger than the urge to kill, maim and torture – was the need to protect her at the moment. The acute sense of her vulnerability tugged so hard at me that I was practically hurting.

I – Raffaele Roselli – a man who had braved blood and dangers so many times in life that it all seemed like a child’s play to me. And yet, I was hurting. I was hurting for Celestia.

I wrapped her in my jacket and brought her back to my room, and even then, the wrecking sobs shivered her petite frame. She immediately curled up into a ball on the couch, hiding her face into the crook of her elbow and heaved in dry tears.

“Celestia, it’s alright. You’re safe now. No one’s going to hurt you,” I whispered closer, but it had no effect whatsoever.

Grabbing the covers from the bed, I enveloped it around her body and confined her into my arms. It felt amazing how beautifully her frame fit into my arms like a piece of the missing puzzle.

“It’s over, I promise you, it’s over,” I murmured, again and again, peppering kisses on the side of her head and soothing a hand over her back until the tears finally stopped.

Almost an eternity later, I managed to reach out for a glass of water and brought it to her. “Sip it slowly. C’mon.” Without protest, she did, as I held it to her lips. Eyelids closed in relief when the cooling liquid sloshed down her parched throat.

As her breathing returned to normal and the dry hiccups died, I tucked away from the matted hair from her forehead and cheeks. Apart from the evident tiredness, her porcelain skin was ridden with bruises and redness. The more I caressed them with knuckles, the angrier I got. This wasn’t supposed to happen – of all places – in my bloody house!

I quickly masked the rage with a forced smile when Celestia tipped back her head and stared into me. “Who were those people?” she asked faintly.

I was dreading the exact question because she wouldn’t like the answer. She would either be hurt or angry, and I could afford neither for her. Sure, I have no proof in my hand that Kyla was behind this, and with all the morons dead, it would be difficult to prove the fact as well. But, in our business – in the business of blood and money – it didn’t take too many evidences to conclude the crime. I was just afraid that Celestia wouldn’t understand any of it.

Raking a rough hand through my hair, I slowly shook my head. “I don’t know yet. But I will definitely find it out.”

The reply seemed to be sunk in easily as Celestia nodded. She, then, began to squirm out of the thick covers I have wrapped her in. “What are you doing?” I asked, reining her tight against me.

“Lila,” she whispered. “I need to see if she is okay. She was hurt and scared. I…”

“Lila is fine,” I assured her. “Amadeo and everyone else are with her downstairs, and they made sure she received the first aid.”

“But I—”

“You can see her tomorrow, Celestia,” I reasoned. “Both of you have been through a shock, and I am sure she needs some rest right now. And so do you.”

With a heavy sigh, she closed her eyes and leaned back to my embrace without a reserve. I couldn’t say that I have never comforted a woman before – I always did in aftercare whenever the scene went intense or severe, but with Celestia, it was nothing like all those times. For one, I didn’t hurt her. And second, my feelings felt invested as much as she was. It was hauntingly beautiful.

We have been sitting there like that for almost an hour before she began to stir up. “Are you feeling better now?” I asked, hopefully. Celestia nodded. I noticed the redness of her eyes faded, and the colour of her cheeks returned a bit.

I glanced between my phone on the table and her. “If it is okay with you, I need to call in Dr. Jenkins. She needs to look you over once.”

“I am really fine. I don’t need a doctor,” she dismissed. “However, I could really use a shower.”

It would be unfair to push her into an uncomfortable situation, so I let it slide for the night. Besides, Dr. Jenkins would be a call away if I need her service. I slowly peeled the covers off her body, letting her keep my suit-jacket over her ruined dress. Celestia slowly rose on her wobbly legs and approached the bathroom with unsure steps. As expected, she staggered and almost tripped before I caught her. In a swift motion, she was cradled back in my arms and I carried her into the bathroom.

Her verbal protest came later when I carefully placed her down on the edge of the tub and turned on the faucets, dropping a couple of bath-bombs into the steamy water. “I could have showered. I just need to hold the wall for balance,” she told me.

I gave her a soft smile and began to roll the sleeves of my white dress shirt. “Celestia, you and I had enough misfortunes for one day.” She just couldn’t disagree.

Once done, I lowered down to grip the lapels of my jacket she was wearing and regarded her expectantly. “Let it go,” I requested. “Let me help you tonight, Celestia.”

Truly, I wanted to because more than she needed me, I needed to care for her. It was the only way to dim the anger and feel more centred than chaotic inside my head. Celestia gave a small nod of her accent and dropped her hands, letting me shrug the jacket off her. When my eyes fell on the torn dress again—the symbolism of her wreckage—a rush of anger spiked anew. She must have sensed it too because she quickly grabbed my forearm and blinked up through her long lashes.

I heavily sighed and cupped the side of her face gently. “Is it okay if I tend to you? I don’t want to leave you by yourself. You are not very steady, Celestia.”

She held my gaze for a long time, more surprised than hesitant and finally acquiesced.

“Alright.” I offered a small smile before undressing her. It wouldn’t be the first time I would see her naked, and for some reason, I always knew that it would not be the last. With utmost care, I cleaned the bruises first and then eased her body into the warm citrus-scented water. A low groan passed her pursed lips, followed by a hiss.

“The bruises will sting a bit. Give it a moment; you will feel better.”

“Thank you,” she said. Her voice was merest of whispers.

“Least I can do for you.”

The silence that followed held more meaning to us than words could ever translate. Grabbing the wash sponge, I lathered up her body, careful of the small cuts and bruises, and went on the wash her hair. When my fingers worked up her scalp in circles, it was the first time I heard her hum in pleasure. Celestia’s face was nothing short of serene, and for what it’s worth, I felt content.

“Lean back.” She complied with her eyes closed as I held the handheld faucet to her sudsy locks and let the cascading water wash it off.

To have someone tend to you, trust you in your naked and vulnerable self, must be an intoxicating high, I thought, as I finished washing her, then went on to dabbed the dampness and wrap her in a plush towel.

All this while, Celestia remained pliant and cooperative, letting me take charge. Once I brought her back to the room, it was then she mumbled a bit. “My clothes are in the other room.”

“I know.” I nodded and walked into the closet to pick up a clean shirt of mine that would invariably fit her well. And when I actually put it on her, a small smile tugged at her lips as she dangled the drooping sleeves.

“Right.” I chuckled. “Let me fix that.” I rolled the sleeves in the same manner as I did mine.

Celestia looked much fresher, but I could easily bet that she was weary to the bones. And right now, all she needed was a peaceful night to sleep off this nightmare.

“You have to eat something before you sleep,” I insisted, but she kept shaking her head. “Some soup maybe?”

“Okay.”

Within five minutes, someone from the kitchen delivered a bowl of steaming chicken soup that she delightfully downed in less than fifteen minutes. Perhaps, she was hungry and didn’t know. With that thought, I tucked her into the covers and sat by the edge until she fell back into the deep slumber.

Something came over me, something akin to a strong sense of protectiveness, as I bent down and kissed her forehead. “I don’t know what this changes,” I admitted into the silence of the room. “But I’m sure it changes something.”