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“Tell me what happened,” I order after approaching and sitting on the bed, next to Gabriella. Even though I've watched the security cameras before, the footage I've seen makes so little sense that I need to make sure I get it right.
Thebambina's dark eyes search mine, and she tries to move on the mattress, but she frowns in discomfort and gives up. The realization that she is still in pain bothers me because the doctor should have fixed it.
I lift my hand to the bandage on her forehead and let my fingers gently touch it before sliding to her forehead and then tracing Gabriella's cheek and jawline. She lets out a satisfied sigh, as if the touch comforts her in some way.
“I was walking through the stables,” she says, keeping her neck turned in my direction. “I’ve discovered that I like talking to horses.” I swallow the ironic snort, because, judging by what I saw today, I would say that Gabriella's relationship with them is a little beyond that, with Galard, mainly, but we'll get to that. I don't interrupt her train of thought. “Suddenly, Gal became agitated, banging against the walls and the stall door. I found it strange, because he is always so majestic, imposing. Galard looks at the world as if its only function was to be the ground he walks on.” I nod, amused by how simple and, at the same time, precise her description is.
“Why didn't you call an employee, Gabriella?”
“There was no one around. And when I got closer, I saw the snake under the stall.” I narrow my eyes when she omits the fact that she leaned over to look under the door. “I saw the snake and thought it would be better to open the stall so Galard could get out. He was very scared, but I would be too. Who wouldn't be scared by a snake?”
“Horses are absolutely terrified of snakes,bambina. Even the proud, like Galard, cannot stop their natural reaction to the reptile.” Gabriella's mouth opens in a perfect O, and she nods in agreement.
“I didn't know it was a general thing, but Gal was very scared. He left the stall a little desperately, and I was stupid enough to stand behind him. He didn't mean to hit me, I'm sure. I don't think he had any control over his body at that time. Everything happened too quickly, one second, I was watching Gal leave the stall, the next, my head and back were hitting the wall, I only felt the impact of his paws after I was already thrown onto the concrete.” Gabriella closes her eyes when my hand reaches her cheek and tilts her face towards the caress before letting out a sigh.
“Gal?” I ask, and her eyes open before her lips stretch into a smile.
“I think he liked it.” Her face takes on a proud expression that makes me laugh.
“Apparently, not just the nickname. Galard is not a tamable animal, Gabriella. What happened today is proof of that, the way he protected you. I never thought I would see something like this.”
“He was feeling guilty.” I laugh again.
“No, he was not.”
“He told me.” I open my mouth to respond, but when I realize how ridiculous this discussion is, I refuse to take it any further. “I think the medicines are starting to take effect,” Gabriella murmurs after some time in silence.
“Sleep,Bella mia.”
“I can go to my room.” Her eyes are already closing when the words leave her lips.
“You're not going anywhere,” I determine and, even to my ears, the words sound much more definitive than they should.
CHAPTER 46
________
Gabriella Matos
I run my fingers over the perfect mark on Vittorio's chest and my lips tingle to kiss it, but I stop myself, and kiss his throat instead. The water around us ripples when I move, better accommodating the broad body between my thighs, inside the bathtub.
Don's blue eyes open to look at me, and I turn my face toward the suite's clear glass windows. Then I look again at the mark on his chest, La Santa's crucifix. A hollow cross on which a rose and a dagger rest.
“Why is this mark made like this, instead of tattooed, like the Saint on your back?” I ask, letting my fingers run over his chest covered in black thorns and, soon after, to his shoulders and back that I now know exactly which image is covered by.
The tattoo is huge and colorful in detail, the delicate face has the same welcoming eyes I used to spend hours staring at while showering in my own bathroom. The amount of time I spend in my room, however, has become less and less, which has drastically reduced the length of our meetings.
I still go up to her just to rehearse touching her hands, getting a millimeter closer to touching them each day, before walking away without actually doing it.
“Because the tattoo on my back was a choice, the mark on my chest is part of the rite of acceptance into the brotherhood. In the Sagrada, an initiate only becomes a made man after being reborn in fire.”
“You mean being marked by it? With the symbol?”
“Exactly.”
“What does it mean?” I outline the thin edges with my index, middle and ring fingers, caressing the skin delicately. A strand of hair breaks free from the high bun on my head and runs down my back until its ends meet the water.
“It means that the Sagrada was established on three basic pillars, the largest of which is faith, the second, charity and the smallest, violence.” One of Vittorio's hands brushes my side while the other runs his thumb across my cheek. I close my eyes briefly, enjoying the caress.
