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“Are you okay?” I say, kneeling beside her and looking at the already dark bruise on her face.
“I guess I won’t be winning Miss America anytime soon.” she says, reading my reaction.
“You look pretty good from where I’m standing,” I say softly. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” she says, furrowing her eyebrows. “I was looking out the window and—” She trails off, looking embarrassed.
“What?” I say, urging her to continue.
“I had felt a presence behind me, the floorboards creaking like somebody else was there. But when I looked around, I couldn’t see anybody. I started walking down the stairs, and I felt somebody behind me except when I turned around I lost my footing.”
“Did somebody push you?” I ask gently.
“That is the part I don’t remember.”
“You’re lucky you weren’t higher up, you could have hurt yourself.”
“On the bright side, you’d get another bride,” she says with a small smile.
“I think you would be quite a tough act to follow. I’m going to leave men posted at the door, then in the morning, we will find somewhere else to stay until Francesca’s wedding. You remember Francesca, right?” I say looking at her.
“Your second cousin, you mentioned it in passing, Rocco. I fell down the stairs, not down a well.” she says sarcastically.
“Well, thank God you didn’t. Who else would drive me crazy in your absence? I don’t like the idea that somebody got in so easily. I’ll leave you to rest.”
“Wait, can you stay with me for a while?” she says softly, “I don’t want to be alone right now.”
“I guess so if that is what you want.”
“It is.” she says firmly.
I take a shower, and when I return, she is still awake. I slip into the bed sheets, but when I try to switch off the light, she stops me.
“Leave the light on.”
“Nothing will happen to you when I’m with you. Trust me?” I say, reassuringly.
“Okay.” she says, nodding as I switch the light off as darkness fills the room.
From the window, I can see both mine and Tysen’s men guarding the perimeter and from under the bedroom door the casting shadows of men walking up and down the corridor. Sophia moves towards me, suddenly lifting my arm up. Before I can ask her what she is doing, her head is on my chest and my arm is covering her torso protectively. She looks up at me from under the nook of my arm but doesn’t say anything.
“You must really have a concussion if you’re nuzzling up to me.” I laugh.
“If you ask me about this tomorrow, I will deny any recollection.”
Her head lowers onto my chest, and to my own surprise, I feel my hand start to stroke her silky hair.
“I didn’t have you down as the stroking hair type of guy, Croccifixio.” She murmurs, softly.
“How many times do I have to ask you to call me Rocco.”
“I like Croccifixio.”
“Are you a religious fanatic to like a name that means crucifix?” I snort.
“It’s different, I know a hundred Marco’s and Luca’s, but there is only one Croccifixio.”
“I guess that’s a compliment.”
