25

                                    

                                          
A groan of discomfort escaped her soft, trembling lips as she fought to open her heavy eyelids. The pain pulsated through her head, signaling the onset of an impending migraine. Her vision slowly adjusted to her surroundings, revealing that she was not in her own room or any familiar hospital setting. The navy blue walls enclosed her, while silk white blinds partially hid the windows. A bedside table stood on each side of the bed, and a single door beckoned from the northern side of the room. The atmosphere was chilly, an exact of what she preferred.
Her memory flashed back to the events that had unfolded at her apartment. Someone had made a malicious attempt on her life, but Dalia and her assistant had intervened, neutralizing the threat. She was certain that Dalia must have brought her to the safety of her mansion.
She noticed that her clothes had been changed to a loose white shirt and black leggings. Throwing off the blanket that covered her, she attempted to rise to her feet but stumbled and landed back on the bed with a heavy "thump." Frustration and pain mingled as she clutched her head in her hands, determined to try again. This time, she managed to stand, albeit unsteadily.
With cautious steps, she made her way towards the door on the north side, a glimmer of relief brightening her face as she caught sight of the corridor beyond. However, her progress came to a halt when she heard a deep, resonant voice echoing down the hall. A surge of panic welled within her, and she quickly sought cover behind a nearby pillar, silently praying to be rendered invisible. The last thing she wanted was to face anyone at that moment.
As she pressed herself against the pillar, a hand suddenly gripped her shoulder, causing her to let out a startled yelp.
"Planning to do something?" she heard the voice inquire, and it took a moment for her to recognize it.
Oh no.
It was the same woman who had mercilessly beaten her earlier. Turning around, she found herself face to face with the formidable lady. The woman released her hold on Celia's shoulder, straightening her posture as she shook her head in denial.
"Follow me," the woman commanded with a sharp and authoritative tone, leaving no room for Celia to argue. She knew better than to oppose anyone within the premises of the D'Amico Cassano family.
Alessia strode with long strides, and Celia struggled to keep up, her breaths coming in heavy gasps. They finally stopped outside Venezio's office door. Alessia knocked loudly, and a husky voice from within granted them entry. Opening the door partially, Alessia motioned for Celia to step inside, her eyes warning Celia not to attempt any further pleas or objections. With a pounding heart, Celia complied, positioning herself at the far corner of the spacious room.
Alessia positioned herself behind Celia, while the man seated at the desk paid them no heed. Overwhelmed by the situation, Celia felt as though she had just devoured five plates of spaghetti in one sitting. The encounter with the criminals, her subsequent loss of consciousness, and now standing in front of the Italian mafia don-it was all too much to process.
"Alessia, you may go," the don finally dismissed her, and she slightly signal Celia to not create more problems before exiting the room. He rose from his seat and moved toward the window, his gaze fixed outside.
"You saw the person's face," he stated with an air of certainty, more of a statement than a question. Celia nodded, her eyes studying his profile intently. He turned and started walking toward her, his steps demanding and authoritative. Celia instinctively took a step back, finding herself dwarfed by his imposing presence. In a swift motion, he stood directly in front of her, so close that she could catch a whiff of his masculine and earthy cologne. She had to tilt her head upward to meet his piercing gray eyes, her height failing to match his stature. Feeling a rush of vulnerability, she dropped her gaze and sidestepped away from him.