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I’m beginning to understand why Dolcezza is very different in her thought processes.
“Since I begged in the presence of my little sister, she begged for us to be homeschooled once I got better. My parents couldn’t refuse, and they insisted everyone backed off in asking me who did the deed, almost paralyzing me. I bet Father knew it was Domino but did nothing about it.”
“Why?” It’s an earnest question.
“Mr. Prescott doesn’t do things immediately when it comes to vengeance,” she reveals. “It’s calculated. Prolonged. Made to hurt you in a way that plagues your life almost diabolically. It’s beautiful to unravel when you put the pieces together and admire the solved puzzle.”
The admiration in her expression proves she means every word.
“I’m not sure what he could have planned or done to get back at Domino for what he did to me. Heck, maybe he didn’t do anything. I’m not sure…but even back then, with my matured brain, I knew he’d get payback in due time.”
“So confident,” I mutter. “You don’t know for sure.”
“I saw it in his eyes,” she reveals and looks at me. “He spent the night that day stroking my hair while I slept. I’d briefly woken up from phantom pain shocks. He calmed me down and cooed me back to sleep. As he did, I could see the resolution in his gaze. The flicker of determination. He was already piecing out his diabolical plan in his mind without anyone’s knowledge. As to when it would come to pass? Who knows? I’m just positive that when my father says you’ll pay in his mind, you will. It also doesn’t have to be with your life. It’ll be when you least expect, at a time you’re ready to stand up on a podium or throne in life, only for his vision for you to come to fruition at the peak of your rise.”
Her words induce goosebumps through me.
“That’s something I’d love to watch firsthand,” I confess. “You make it sound…”
“Beautiful to admire from afar,” she whispers and smiles.
She’s immaculate when she grins with those red lips of hers.
“Do you still deal with problems today?” I ask and add, “Not to use against you.”
She looks appreciative of my added comment.
“I experience phantom pain, especially before my period,” she admits. “It’s not necessarily crippling, but it induces panic attacks. Sometimes, if it hits me when I’m in closed spaces, I get claustrophobic and will do anything to get out of the situation I’m in. I’ve only had that happen once or twice, but the second time was a close call.”
“Close call?” I’m trying to understand why.
“My blood sugar was dangerously low. I also hadn’t taken my other medication. I won’t tell you what’s that for.” I can respect that. “It just triggered a huge-ass mess, and I woke up in a private hospital. Not sure who I ticked off along the way, but whoever felt pity for me paid for my recovery, paid for a lifetime supply of these specific meds that are extremely expensive, and gave me a bunny cake that was practically diabetic-safe since it was made with ingredients they use for people on Keto diets.”
“You never found out who helped?”
“I tried, but I wasn’t as skilled back then as I am now. They made sure their trail was clean. It was one of the few nicest things someone did for me.” She’s looking at me again, but this time, she has a softened gaze that makes me want to kiss her senseless.
I’m jealous of whoever can ignite such a dreamy gaze on her immaculate face.
“I’ll admit, giving me three sandwiches after I’ve been starving for a long-ass time is worthy of being added to the ‘nice’ list.”
I sigh and don’t hesitate to mutter, “Sorry.”
So much for not admitting shit…
“For what?”
“Starving you wasn’t intentional, especially when you have an illness.” The reminder encouraged me to reach over to the little bag that I’d used to carry the sandwiches to pull out the bottles of medication that I’d ‘borrowed’ from the side table inthe maiden room we’d designated for her. Hadn’t even gotten the chance to ask her if she liked it, but alas, it doesn’t matter. It’s not important now.
“Here you go,” I announce and offer the unlabeled medication bottles. “You’ve missed a dose or two, haven’t you?”
“Ah…” She stares at my hands in surprise. “You brought them.”
“Looked important,” I mutter. Using my free hand, I reach into my pocket to reveal the other thing I have in my possession. “And this.”
All she does is stare at the item in my grasp before arching an eyebrow at me.
“Did you steal that from Warren?”
