CHAPTER TWENTY: WINTER
The day passes by quickly but there's a feeling that I can't shake, a feeling of despair and impending doom. My lunch and dinner feel like they're going to come right back up. I toss and turn most of the night, my head throbbing and a deep ache in the pit of my stomach.
When Enzo enters my room for breakfast, I feel like I'm going to pass right out. He looks me over, that cold gaze asking questions that his mouth doesn't. He gestures for me to get up and I do so on shaky legs. The trip down the hall is one that I just barely make and I quickly close the bathroom door behind me, sitting down on the closed toilet seat. I place my head in my hands and take a couple of deep breaths, trying to figure out what in the hell is wrong with me. The trauma that Maximo has instilled is fresh in my mind, but there's also a physical sickness that I can't deny.
After a few moments, I finally get in the shower, the steam of the water helping to clear my head and frankly my nostrils which I hadn't realized felt stuffy. Today there's another pair of jeans, these a little looser than yesterday's and a strapless top that shows off my arms. I cringe at the thought of Maximo still picking out my clothes though I can say without a doubt, I prefer this outfit over the ones that Giovanni had been picking out for me.
I open the door, stepping out into the hall. I spare Enzo a brief glance before heading toward the stairs.
"No," he says, cutting me off.
My feet stop and I whip around to look at him. "What?"
"You're not eating with Giovanni this morning," he says, shaking his head.
I press my lips together, a little confused by the new turn of events.
Is this because I lied to him, or did I do something else wrong? Does he know about what happened with Maximo?
"Okay." I try not to let my nerves show on my face, turning back in the direction of my bedroom. "You'll eat in your room this morning and I'll be back in a few hours to pick you up for your appointment."
My appointment?
"Appointment?" I ask, unable to help the dread that fills my stomach.
Enzo gives his head a shake. "You're going shopping," he says before a crease appears in his forehead and his posture stiffens. "It doesn't matter, eat your food and be ready when I come back for you." His eyes roam to my head. "And comb your hair. If Giovanni finds out it still looks like it got into a fight and lost, he'll be pissed." There's a deeper threat that seems to hand in the air between us but I only nod and walk into my room, slamming the door shut.
I sink down into my bed and wait for my food to be brought to me. When I receive it, it barely has a taste and I have to force myself to eat it, not wanting to bring Giovanni's wrath on me if he finds out I didn't. After I'm done, I curl back into bed and as I lay there, my eyes drifting close, it becomes clear what's wrong.
I have a fucking cold of all things.
The thought has barely formed before I let out a cough, an ache in my chest starting as it feels like I'm going to hack up a lung. I pull the cover over my head and close my eyes, praying that when I wake up, I'll feel better.
Of course as it happens, I only feel worse when I wake as Enzo calls my name. I pull the cover from over my head, looking at him. He's standing in my doorway, the irritation on his face clear.
"I told you to be ready," he says through gritted teeth.
"I'm sorry," I tell him just as a cough racks my whole body. "I fell asleep." I step out of the bed, wobbling slightly before bending over to grab my shoes. A dizzy wave hits me. I grab onto the bed to remain standing.
"You're sick," Enzo says plainly, his eyes narrowing as I drag my shoes onto my feet.
"Yes."
"Giovanni isn't going to let you stay in because of a cold." He says it slowly as if speaking to a child.
I can't help but to feel irritated, pressing my lips together. "I wouldn't dare ask," I bite out, folding my arms over my chest and hating the way my voice sounds so nasally. "I'm ready."
He doesn't offer me a response, turning his back to me, but I don't miss the hard set of his shoulders, as if I've done something to offend him. It's not my fault that my body decided it wanted to get sick barely a week into my kidnapping. Sorry, not kidnapping, agreement.
We make it to the bottom of the stairs and a woman appears around the corner. She holds out a thick, black jacket to me. I pull it over my shoulders and offer a thin thanks. Outside, the chilly air makes me shiver and I clutch the jacket tighter, knowing it's pointless. I'm only going to get sicker in this weather. And I'll have to come back out in it tonight if Giovanni lets me return to work.
Enzo doesn't say a word to me the whole ride and I'm not surprised when we drive deeper into the business area that belongs to the Costa family. The car stops in front of a shop not too far from the club.
Enzo gets out of the car and pulls my door open, gesturing for me to hurry up and get out. I can't help but to notice that he seems to be more on edge than usual today and a part of me is disappointed. He has two moods: cold and rigid or cold and mean.
I hate the latter.
I barely pay any attention to the outside of the shop but I'm thankful when we step inside and warm air immediately starts to blow on us. I swirl around, taking in the walls lined with clothes on racks and shelves. A woman in a pair of well fitting slacks and a silk purple dress shirt walks up to us with a wide smile on her face. "Right this way," she says without preamble before heading toward a staircase.