Chapter 187
KATYA POV
A few hours later...
The bathroom door clicked shut softly behind . I washed my hands slowly, taking my ti, letting the warmth of the water soak into my fingers.
The harsh ache in my back had dulled to sothing manageable. When I looked up, the mirror didn’t frighten this ti.
I still looked fragile—bandages stark against my skin, shadows under my eyes—but I didn’t look broken.
Just... tired. Healing. I turned off the tap and padded back into the bedroom, barefoot against the cool floor.
Night had settled over the estate quietly. The curtains were drawn, but the faint glow of garden lights filtered through the gaps, painting the room in soft gold and shadow.
The bed had been remade while I was gone. On the bedside table, a small bowl held wrapped chocolates and salted crackers.
Snacks. Nonna’s idea. A strange warmth spread through my chest.
Today hadn’t been terrible.
No shouting. No hands grabbing . No fear pounding through my veins every second. Just sunlight, online shopping and soone deciding I deserved comfort without asking for anything in return.
I climbed back into the massive bed, allowing myself to think that maybe—just maybe—the worst was over.
Nonna and Miss stella had shown so much love than ever before. I was clean, fed, and for the first ti in my life, I wasn’t being asked to hide in the corners.
I pulled the charcoal duvet up to my chin, the oversized shirt bunching around my legs. I closed my eyes, letting the rhythmic throb in my head lull toward a dreamless sleep.
Click.
The sound of the heavy door handle turning, rang out through my ears. I didn’t move. I couldn’t.
My body turned into a pillar of salt, every muscle locking with a violence that sent a jagged spike of pain through my bandaged back.
My heart slamd against my ribs.
Marina. The na scread in my head. She’s here, isn’t she? Just like that night when Roo kicked her out of his room.
She’s co to try again or had she found out about staying her and shes here to finish what she and Gina started.
She’s going to kill in his bed for the insult of being here. The door creaked, I squeezed my eyes shut, my breathing becoming shallow and ragged.
I was trapped. There was nowhere to run, no shadow deep enough to hide a girl in a white bandage on a dark bed.
Please, God. Not her. Not again.
Footsteps. They weren’t the sharp, clicking heels. They were heavy. Each thud against the hardwood floor resonated in the base of my spine, vibrating through the mattress.
The scent hit then. It wasn’t the floral, suffocating perfu Marina wore. It was cedarwood. Expensive tobacco.
Roo. My panic didn’t subside; it just shifted shape. It turned from the fear of death into the fear of the unknown.
He had been "occupied" all day. He had been killing people, or burying them, or whatever the devil does.
And now, he was back in the one place he was supposed to rest and I was in his bed, wearing his clothes, occupying his space.
The footsteps stopped right at the edge of the bed. The silence that followed was suffocating.
I kept my eyes clamped shut, praying my racing heart wouldn’t give away. I could feel him standing there, a dark tower of a man, looking down at .
Then, I felt it. A hand, large and unexpectedly warm, settled over the white fabric of the bandage on my forehead.
It wasn’t the rough, violent grip I was bracing for. It was soft, almost hesitant. His thumb brushed just below the edge of the gauze, grazing the skin of my temple with a tenderness that felt like a physical sting.
In that silence, I could hear him exhale, a long, weary sound that carried the weight of the entire day.
My eyes snapped open. I couldn’t help it. The shock of that gentle touch was more startling than a blow would have been.
Roo was leaning over , his face inches from mine. For one heartbeat—one fraction of a second—the monster was gone.
His brow was furrowed, his jaw was loose, and his eyes were swimming with an expression that looked terrifyingly like worry.
Then he realized I was looking at him. The transformation was instant. His eyes widened in a flash of pure shock. The worry evaporated, replaced by a cold, stony mask that was completely unreadable.
He pulled his hand back as if my skin had burned him. Without a single word, he straightened to his full height and turned on his heel.
I stayed frozen, my breath hitching in my throat, watching him stride toward the walk-in closet. The heavy door clicked as he disappeared inside.
I lay there, my heart hamring a frantic rhythm against my ribs. What was that? Why did he look at like that? Why did he co into the room?
A minute later, the closet door opened again. Roo walked out, a bundle of fresh clothes gripped in his hand.
He didn’t turn his head. He didn’t glance toward the bed. He moved with rigid precision, his shoulders set like he was marching into battle.
He walked straight past , headed for the main door.
The door closed behind him, leaving alone. Totally, utterly confused. The bed still held the fading heat of his presence, and the scent of cedarwood lingered in the air, but he was gone.
He hadn’t yelled. He hadn’t demanded I leave. He had looked at with a softness that shouldn’t exist in a man like him, and then he had fled his own room like I was the one he was afraid of.
I touched my forehead where his hand had been. The skin there felt like it was humming.
He’s the Don, I reminded myself, pulling the duvet tighter around my chest.
He doesn’t worry about servants. He doesn’t touch shadows like they’re made of glass and he surely doesn’t care about his enemy daughter.
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