chapter 34 Breaking in

chapter 34 Breaking in

Carla's POV

The door exploded inward with a thunderous crash, and the last thing I saw before darkness claimed me was the ceramic shard slipping from my fingers, clattering harmlessly to the floor.

When consciousness returned, my head felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it, and my mouth was dry as sandpaper. The antiseptic smell and steady beeping told me I was in a hospital before I even opened my eyes fully.

"Cara mia, thank God you're awake."

Beatrice's voice was thick with tears and relief.

"What..." My voice came out as a croak. "What happened?"

"You collapsed at the museum," Beatrice said, reaching for a cup of water and holding the straw to my lips. "The doctors say it was exhaustion and dehydration. With the pregnancy and all the stress from Ricardo's surgery..."

The events came flooding back. The champagne that tasted wrong, Luca's hands on me, the broken vase, the ceramic shard pressed to my throat. I tried to sit up, but waves of nausea forced me back down.

"Easy, easy," Beatrice soothed. "Alessandro already had the doctor check you twice, and the baby is fine. But you need to rest."

Thank goodness for that.

"Luca," I whispered. "Where is..."

"He's here, actually. Waiting outside. He's been so worried about you, hasn't left the hospital all night. The poor boy feels terrible about what happened."

Before I could protest, the door opened and Luca stepped in, carrying a massive bouquet of white lilies. His head was bandaged where I'd struck him with the vase, and he wore an expression of perfectly crafted remorse.

"Carla," he said softly, approaching the bed with hesitant steps. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me last night."

Beatrice squeezed my hand encouragingly. "Luca has something he wants to tell you."

He set the flowers on the bedside table and looked down at his hands. "I had too much to drink at the gala. The champagne, the wine at dinner... I wasn't thinking clearly. When I saw you feeling unwell, I thought I was helping, but then..." He trailed off, running a hand through his hair. "I made some inappropriate comments. I may have gotten too close, made you uncomfortable. I never meant for things to escalate the way they did."

I stared at him in disbelief. "Inappropriate comments?"

"I know there's no excuse for my behavior, The stress of Ricardo's condition, the family pressures, the alcohol... it all made me act like someone I'm not. When you tried to leave and I followed you, when we ended up in that room together..."

"You drugged me," I said flatly.

Luca's head snapped up, his eyes wide with what looked like genuine shock. "What? Carla, no. I would never... How can you even think that?"

"The champagne tasted different. I was dizzy, couldn't think straight..."

"You were exhausted," Beatrice interjected gently. "The doctors said your blood pressure was dangerously low. Combined with not eating much at the gala, the stress of the evening..."

"I never touched your drink," Luca said firmly. "Carla, please. I may have had too much to drink myself, I may have said things I shouldn't have, but I would never drug anyone. That's not who I am."

He moved closer to the bed, his expression earnest. "If anything, you were the one who... well, you seemed interested in talking privately. You followed me willingly to that room. We were having what I thought was a pleasant conversation until you suddenly became upset and started saying things that didn't make sense."

"What kind of things?" I asked, my heart sinking as I realized where he was going with this.

"You kept calling me Ricardo," Luca said softly. "You were confused, disoriented. When I tried to explain that I was Luca, you became more agitated. I think the stress and exhaustion made you... well, perhaps you were seeing what you wanted to see."

I knew he was lying. I remembered everything clearly now that the drug had worn off. But how could I explain that to Beatrice without revealing why he'd targeted me specifically?

"When I tried to calm you down, you became violent," he continued, touching the bandage on his head gingerly. "I'm not angry about this, of course. You weren't yourself. But a guest in the building across from the museum saw us arguing through the window and called the police. They thought we were having some kind of domestic dispute."

"She was protecting her virtue," Beatrice said firmly. "Any woman would react strongly to unwanted advances."

"Of course," Luca agreed quickly. "And I completely understand her reaction. That's why I feel so terrible. I should have recognized her confusion, should have brought her straight back to Alessandro instead of trying to help her myself."

His voice took on a pained tone. "I was weak, I admit it. When a beautiful woman seems to want your attention, even when you know she's not thinking clearly... I should have been stronger. I should have resisted the temptation."

I wanted to scream the truth at both of them. But if I told Beatrice what really happened, she'd want to know why Luca had targeted me specifically. That would lead to questions about Velvet House, about my arrangement with Alessandro, about the lies I'd been telling about my pregnancy. Everything would unravel.

"The hotel security said a waiter reported hearing raised voices from the room," Beatrice said carefully. "He was concerned enough to alert security, who then called the police when they couldn't get a response from inside."

"Thank goodness for that young man," Luca said. "When Carla collapsed, I was so frightened. I didn't know what to do. If security hadn't arrived when they did..."

"You were trying to help her," Beatrice said, though she was watching my face closely.

"I was," Luca confirmed. "Though I understand why it might have looked... compromising. Both of us having had too much to drink, emotions running high..."

The way he was spinning the story made me sick.

"I think we should put this behind us," Beatrice said finally. "Family disagreements happen, especially during stressful times. What matters is that everyone is safe and sorry."

"I am sorry," Luca said, reaching toward my hand. "Truly, deeply sorry. Can you forgive me, cousin?"

I pulled my hand away before he could touch me, saying nothing. The silence stretched uncomfortably.

"Of course," he said, but remained standing by my bed. "I'll let you recover. But please, think about what I've said. Think about whether perhaps we both made mistakes last night."

Before I could respond, the door opened again. This time, Alessandro filled the doorway, his presence immediately changing the atmosphere in the room.

His dark eyes swept over the scene, taking in Luca's bandaged head, the flowers, Beatrice's protective stance, and my pale face against the hospital pillows.

"Luca," he said, his voice deadly quiet. "Get out."