Chapter 36: THIRTY SIX

CELESTIA

Either my ear was ringing, or Raffaele didn’t know what he was saying. But logic argued with my brain that he was a calculative man and wouldn’t carelessly throw around apology without meaning. In fact, whatever little I knew of him, he wouldn’t even apologize. His seeming ego was too big for that.

Therefore, in all probability, I heard it wrong.

So, I blinked. Almost in slow motion like they show in movies. Breath by breath, I took in the air until I felt marginally sane.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, begged. His eyes sought mine. “Say something, Celestia.”

The senses returned in stages as I felt the touch of his abraded skin against mine and briefly looked down. It took another long beat for my coherent thoughts to orderly slot them down.

“Do you really mean it?”

The question was as harsh as it was true. Perhaps, I should have framed it better, but my lack of social skills blocked the way. Raffaele winced, drawing away his touch. He looked more hurt than offended by the question.

“Yes, I do mean it.”

He paused, having his thought run amok for a moment before continuing. “The truth is, your mother had called earlier, denying her involvement in the incident in the garden until I showed her the proof.”

“A proof? Where did you find that?” Not that I was not aware of my mother’s involvement, but, still it hurt.

“Amadeo found a money trail. Mercenaries don’t put their lives on the line without cash.” I nodded mutely, taking it all in. “But, I should have treated you better.”

I stared at him, into the depth of his gray eyes, and tried to understand this man.

He was a man who wore the skin of a beast and had a conscience of a human.

The man, with so many shades of his persona that it was giving me whiplash.

Biting on my lips, I nodded and accepted the apology. But it also made my heart heavy. My eyes crawled all over the bedroom, where I sat amidst the wreckage and felt guilty about it.

“I am sorry, too,” I mumbled, barely audible. But the way his eyes snagged and held mine, I knew he heard me. “But in my defense, I was mad at both you and my mother.”

He cracked a small smile, more wry than humorous, and vainly looked over the room. “You are vengeful little thing, bambi,” he muttered, bringing his attention back on me.

Shame pinkened my cheeks. “I don’t have temper tantrums. I just…don’t know how it happened.”

“It’s called reaction, Celestia.” His lips stretched broader. “It’s completely normal. But, please, I’d like a fair warning the next time before you decide to annihilate my room.”

“Don’t hustle with me, and we will be just fine.” I grinned back.

A small laugh tumbled out as he shook his head in disbelief. And for a brief second, the world felt normal—like two people talking and laughing in a conversation. My life was so extraordinarily mundane that I was robbed of small pleasures like human contact and banter.

The emptiness, which has mounted for years, was slowing ebbing away like dry leaves in the autumnal breeze. Here, at the Roselli villa, there were people I could talk to, fight, and converse.

“So three more weeks, huh?” I asked, steering the conversation to last night. Anger and laughter settled like sand in water, and now it’s better that we talk things out.

Raffaele’s face creased into seriousness as he rested his elbows on the knees and linked his fingers. “Three weeks,” he affirmed. “I wanted to ask you something for a long time now. How’s your relationship with your mother?”

It was a little challenging to answer because the question felt odd. Not because a mother-daughter relationship was supposed to be generic, but because Kyla and I had a bare minimum rapport. We have nothing to define or discuss other than the fact that we were related by blood.

“She’s my mother,” I stated, sounding obviously lame. “We…have the same relation as any other.”

His eyes held so many questions that I couldn’t help but squirm under the inquisitive gaze. “I will understand…if you don’t wish to talk about it. I was just curious.”

“Why?”

“Well, for starters, you call her mother,” he began, a little unsure of himself. “The first phone call I allowed you to make…I was expecting a surprise reaction or anything emotional.”

He was right, though. I was relieved to see her, but I couldn't say the same for Kyla. It had never struck me until Raffaele mentioned it. A thorn lodged into my heart, more rooted and sharper as I tried to wave off the thought.

“My mother isn’t very emotional, but she cares about me,” the conviction in my voice came out strangled. “Not every person is expressive.”

“Not even with her daughter?” A pair of judgemental brows shot up, but he quickly erased it with a soft smile. “You should see my mother. She has so much to talk and criticize that she would eat our brains out.”

“Why doesn’t she live with you and your brother?” I blurted before I could think through. “I am sorry if it’s …personal and you don’t want--”

Raffaele quickly interjected. “My father bought this place for my mother.” He looked around as if to commemorate the memories as his voice turned dreamy. “The entire villa, staff quarters, gardens, and rest of it was built on her design. But after my father’s death, I don’t think it held any meaning for her. In fact, it reminded her of my father so much that she couldn’t bear it.”

“I am sorry.” A wealth of grief and memories hung between us in silence before I softly reminisced. “Kyla was probably the same after my father died. She was also paranoid and would never let me out of her sight.”

His brows knitted together. “You mean, after your father’s accident?” he clarified.

“That’s one part of the story, yes.” I nodded.

“I don’t understand.”

Breathing in, I braced myself for the tale I never thought I’d be telling a soul, let alone the man who technically held me captive. But the conversation with him felt as smooth as flowing water.

“I was barely a year when my father, Bruno Donovan, died. His death was planned, and not an accident. And ever since, Kyla has been struggling with work and me.”

“Is that the reason why she hid you away?”

I nodded, meeting his eyes.

“And you were okay with it? To live that life?” His voice held a mixture of disbelief.

“What choice did I have?” I smiled wryly. “I was homeschooled, under a different name, and brought up in different cities so that no one could trace me back to my father. Even my mother travelled from one location to another so as not to risk my safety.”

His gaze softened into consideration, something I could never imagine in any of the wildest of dreams. Raffaele was being kind, without reason, and I didn’t know if I should be worried.

“It must be a lonely childhood,” he said after long deliberation.

“I don’t know.” The exhale came harder than intended. “I have been alone for so long, and it doesn’t feel unnatural anymore, although I wish things were different.”

A glimpse of my old life flared in my mind. It reminded me of a few things I actually cared for and enjoyed, no matter how small and irrelevant.

“Can I ask you for a favor?”

Raffaele contemplated, pawing at his clean-shaven jawline and studying my face. It was obvious we didn’t cultivate that level of trust between us, but this moment—however small but weighty—was one of the truest between us. Between a captor and a captive.

Then he slowly gave the nod. “Tell me,” he allowed.

I almost sprang up on the couch. “I need a laptop. I swear I am not going to access anything other than important stuff, but I’m bored out of my mind. I can’t annoy Lila all the time, and—”

“Okay, okay, woman! I got it.” There was a small smile on his lips as I realized I was breathless for the monologue. “Just tell me the purpose.”

“I have previously enrolled in some online classes, and I’d like to continue the courses.”

By the reaction on his face, I bet he didn’t see that coming. His response only proved it further. “I thought you wanted for Netflix.”

It was my turn to smile and wink. “Well, I wouldn’t say no if you’d allow that too.”

“I will see what I can do about the laptop,” he somewhat agreed. “But, no promises yet.” I could live with that. “So, what courses did you say?”

“Business and management,” I replied. “Three weeks is a long time to catch up with the lectures and webinars. I could really use this time.”

Raffaele’s face sparkled with a thought. He suddenly rose, extending his hand. “I have an idea. Come with me.”

What do you like more? The good side of Rafe, or the big-bad-wolf side of him?

Let me know the comments. Do you have any suggestions for the story?