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I opened my takeout container, eager to dig into my lobster since stomach had been empty for the past couple of days. My aversion to food got more intense every day, and it seemed now my body hated lobster.
The moment the lid went up, and the buttery smell hit my nostrils, a wrecking ball of nausea hit me full force. My mouth started watering in the worst possible way, and my palms were sweating all of a sudden. It was a miracle that I made my way to the bathroom in time to throw up the inside of my gut. Hugo came running behind me.
“Baby girl, are you alright?”
“Yeah, I just…” I flushed the toilet and ran to the sink to use some mouthwash and clean my face. “I don’t know what’s in that lobster but I can’t eat it.”
“I’ll get you something else.”
“No need, Monster. I’m not that hungry.”
His brows furrowed, and he was visibly worried.
“Let’s get you to bed.”
I wasn’t given the chance to protest. He picked me up and tucked me under his bedcovers, fluffing my pillow to make sure I was comfortable.
“Baby, I’m fine. Listen to me, I need to tell you…”
“No. I’ll grab a shower and make a run to the pharmacy to get something for your stomach, and then we can talk some more. I need to make sure you’re alright first.”
“Hugo, I’m ok. It was just some nausea.”
“I don’t care. Let me take care of you, baby girl. Please.” His face, usually so tight, was softened by concern. The charcoal-grey eyes that were usually staring at me burning with desire, were now drowned in distress.
“Ok. I’ll sit here. Go grab that shower, ok?”
He kissed my forehead and brought a cup of water and placed it on his nightstand next to his Desert Eagle that was abandoned there before going into the bathroom and turning on the shower. I imagined him stepping into the black granite cage that was his shower and the hot water streaming down, following his every edge. I closed my eyes and visualized him with his hands on the wall, gloriously naked between clouds of steam. He was brutal, a man proud like a mountain. Every tattoo, every scar, every imperfection that the world saw, made me love him even more. He was my protector. All my life, he was there looking over me.
Just when I was starting to comprehend the idea that he was my entire universe, my bubble of happiness burst. One second, I was at peace, the only sound in the room being the sound of water going down the drain, the next, someone kicked Hugo’s door down. The loud bang echoed between the walls like a bomb going off, and I pushed myself up to try and see what the hell was happening. This wouldn’t have been the first time I woke up with a SWAT team breaking into our house. At least I still had Hugo’s t-shirt to cover me.
But it wasn’t a SWAT team. It was a man who looked like he was there to kill and inflict pain, and I had no doubt he was capable of just that. From the other side of the room, my brother looked directly at me, his face dark, his fists clenched, and he shook with anger. The angel of death would have feared him.
“Gino…”
He didn’t say anything, just sat there, fuming like a devil risen from the pits of hell. Roman was standing behind him, astonished to see me here half naked. He tried to put a hand on Gino’s shoulder and calm him down, but my brother pushed him away. This was a scene cut from my nightmares, and I had to say something – do something – to calm him down. Gino was my big brother. My big, crazy, protective brother, and I knew he wasn’t thinking straight when his family was in the middle.
“Gino, please don’t get mad.”
“Roman,” he said, pulling out a gun from the inside of his coat and screwing on the silencer, “take my sister to the car.”
“Gino, brother, take it easy.” Roman tried again to talk him out of his murderous haze.
“Now.”
To make things worse, that was the moment when Hugo slammed the bathroom door opened, walking in covered by just one towel.
“Cat, are you ok? What the hell was…” He didn’t get to finish because that was when he saw my brother’s gun barrel pointing at his head. “Gino.”
My heart squeezed when I saw the hurt striking his face like a lightning bolt, and his eyes turned into abyssal pits of turmoil. He wasn’t scared; he didn’t give a shit about the gun. He was ashamed for betraying my brother. I had ruined his life just like he said I would.
Gino’s expression didn’t change one bit. He was impassible just like a statue.
“Do you have your affairs in order, Mustafa?” he boomed into the room. “Because you will die tonight, you sporco bastardo.”
“Gino, stop,” I begged him. I tried to get to him, put myself in between the two men, but Roman came behind me and chained my waist with his arms.
“You have to let them figure it out, Cat,” he whispered in my ear, but I didn’t listen to him.
