Ayla
I felt disoriented and my head was pounding. I blinked my eyes open but then closed them again because of the bright sunlight.
Wait, what?
My eyes snapped open in alarm and I quickly sat up in bed. I wasn’t in my room. I looked down at the soft black comforter. Panic filled my chest; I looked around the strange room. It was familiar to me.
Turning my head to the left, I shrieked in surprise. Alessio was sitting beside me, his back propped against the headboard as he mutely stared at me panicking.
I was in his room.
The last thing I remembered was falling down on my bed tiredly as sleep took over my body and mind. But after that, everything was blank.
“How did I get here?” I asked, bringing the comforter up to my shoulder. Alessio raised an eyebrow at me in surprise.
“You don’t remember?” he asked, his voice gruff from sleep.
I shook my head. He stared at me for a few seconds, the air crackling with tension between us. There was an awkward pause before he continued.
“You came to me last night,” he said.
That didn’t make any sense.
“What do you…you mean?”
He sighed in annoyance. “You had a panic attack. Came to my room, knocked at my door, and begged me to make it go away. I did, and then you fell asleep on my bed,” Alessio explained. When he was done, he stared at me expectantly.
Bringing my hand up to my head, I rubbed my forehead, trying to ease the horrendous headache. When I closed my eyes, sudden clipped images of last night crashed behind my close lids.
My nightmare. The hallucinations. Crying. Begging Alessio to make it stop. I remembered him cleaning my arms, telling me there was no blood on them.
My eyes snapped open and I stared at Alessio in shock. He raised an eyebrow in amusement and made a tsking sound. “Ah, so you remember now.” Embarrassment and shame filled me as I tore my eyes away from Alessio’s penetrating gaze. My throat went dry and my body grew cold.
Silence filled the room. Neither of us moved.
After a few minutes filled with tension, I licked my lips nervously and started to move toward the end of the bed. When Alessio didn’t say anything, I kept my eyes down and pushed the comforter away before getting off the bed.
Just walk away, Ayla. Walk away. Get your thoughts together. Make up an excuse.
I locked my knees together and continued toward my escape.
When I reached the door, Alessio’s voice filled the room. I tensed and my hand froze.
“Are you seriously going to leave without saying anything?” he asked, chuckling under his breath.
That was the plan. I thought he wouldn’t say anything, but clearly I was wrong. How naïve of me that I kept thinking of him as the good guy.
He is the good guy, though, I argued with myself.
“Ayla, turn around,” Alessio ordered in a hard, cold voice.
I stiffened at his tone and swiveled around. My head stayed down, and I refused to look at his judging, questioning gaze.
The bed squeaked, and from the corner of my eyes, I saw him getting up. For the first time I noticed that he was in different attire than usual. He wore grey sweatpants and a long black shirt that was tight over his chest.
He moved toward me, his steps fluid and confident.
When he stopped in front of me, my heart stuttered with anxiety and my stomach twisted with tension.
I knew what he was going ask and I didn’t have the answers to his prying questions. They weren’t answers he would want.
He gripped my chin between his fingers, tilting my head up so I was staring at him. His eyes were cold and I saw anger in them.
A shiver went through me and I tightened my hands into fists, my nails biting into the skin of my palm. The slight pain kept me grounded.
“Explain,” he demanded, his eyes turning into slits.
I couldn’t.
“There is nothing to…explain,” I stammered. At my words, his fingers tightened on my chin and anger coursed through his eyes.
“Ayla, I know when you are lying. And I fucking hate it when people lie to me. It will be better for you if you tell me the truth. Explain what happened last night.”
Angry Alessio was scary. His body tensed and his eyes were deadly cold, showing his true character as the heartless mafia boss.
“I’m telling the truth. It was…just a nightmare.”
That was the partial truth. He wouldn’t understand the whole truth. He would only see me as the daughter of his worst enemy, not a victim.
“Damn it,” he growled as he released my chin. “You are lying, Ayla.” When he sent me an intense glare, I cowered back a little and quickly looked down.
But lying was keeping me alive. For now.
“No, I’m telling the truth,” I whispered and unknowingly took a step back. He noticed and took a step forward.
“You had a panic attack. You were having hallucinations about blood on you. You were crying. Totally losing it. That. Was. Not. A. Nightmare,” he said, punctuating each word with fury.
“No.” I shook my head. “It was. I have very vivid nightmares.” I quickly made an excuse, desperately hoping he would believe me. And even if he didn’t, I hoped he would let it go.
But being Alessio, he didn’t let it go.
“Did you witness a murder?” he asked, his tone a little gentler than before, but still hard.
At his question, I just wanted to crumple down and cry. My heart ached at the thought. Yes. Yes, I had witnessed a murder. Not one. Not two. But several murders.
Alberto killed them mercilessly in front of me. He never cared about my screams of terror.
Looking Alessio in the eyes, I shook my head. “No,” I whispered. The lie left a bitter taste in my mouth.
His rigid blue eyes narrowed. The burning hard stare caused me tremble with uneasiness and fear.
“Fuck, did you kill someone? Are you running away? Is that it?” His loud, harsh voice boomed around us.
My eyes widened and I flinched at his assumption. Did he really think that I could kill someone?
“No. No.” I shook my head wildly. “I didn’t kill anyone.”
“Ayla, you were hallucinating about blood on you. So, either you killed someone or you witnessed a murder. Which is the truth?” He was losing patience.
“I didn’t kill anyone, and I didn’t witness any murder. I’m telling the truth. It was just a nightmare. A bad one and I lost it. That’s all.” I stared into Alessio’s eyes and saw the disbelief in them.
So, I tried one last time.
“Please. Believe me. Please.” This time I begged, hoping it would have an effect on him.
He glared at me and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “You may seem innocent, Ayla, but you are so fucking stubborn.”
He took a step closer to me until our bodies were only a breath away.
“I can protect you. If you tell me the truth, I can protect you. So, tell me,” he said.
Oh, how I wanted to believe him. My heart stumbled at his words and my eyes burned with tears. I wished it was true. I wished I really did have someone to protect me.
But Alessio wouldn’t protect me if he knew the truth. He would kill me instead. It was as simple as that.
I couldn’t look into his eyes any longer. Shame and guilt filled my body. Shame for what I had been through. I wasn’t who he thought I was.
I wasn’t innocent.
And then guilt. Guilt because I lied to his face and was living in his house, living off his generosity when I didn’t deserve it.
I also felt confused because I couldn’t understand why I went to him last night. Why did I go to him at my lowest point?
Why was he my peace? Alessio made a frustrated sound and then took a step away from me. My forehead creased in confusion and I slowly brought my head up to look at him.
He stared at me blankly, completely devoid of any emotions.
“Fine,” he said, his voice strangely calm.
What?
This man loved playing with my mind. I could never truly read him.
“You believe me?” I asked in astonishment.
He let out a harsh laugh. “Believe you? No, kitten. I don’t believe you. But I will accept what you are saying for now.” He stepped forward and leaned down so that his lips were next to my ears. “You will eventually tell me the truth. It is only a matter of time.”
His words felt like lashes against my body. I reared back in shock and Alessio stepped away. He gave me a nod and turned around, walking toward his bathroom.
“I will see you at breakfast,” he said, dismissing me without a second glance.
I stared at his back with wide eyes. He closed the bathroom door behind him, hiding his view from me and I let out a sigh of relief. My tensed muscles relaxed but his words kept playing in my head.
It is only a matter of time.
Turning around, I walked out of his bedroom and into my room in a daze.
He was right. It was only a matter of time. How long could I keep hiding the truth?