Look at this something beautiful made by doraemontheraccoon
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Did she slide it in his pocket to divert the blame?
He felt his head spinning as one after other, heavy questions heaped on one another. He took a step back in shock, loathing himself for not figuring this out way earlier.
Dominic Frantino was selfish, power-hungry, and a borderline monstrous man but, one thing that he certainly wasn't was stupid. He'd have buried that data six feet down if he could have, carrying it carelessly in his pocket would have been the last thing in his mind. And if Donavan's line of thought was correct, Tara's desperation to have Dominic killed could be easily explained, given her deadly plan to cage him in this inescapable trap.
It couldn't be, he kept telling himself, not believing that the innocence he had watched flourishing for so long was capable of causing disasters of this measure.
and to pocket the pen drive just on the day he attacked Tara...?
Wasn't it something far too unreal to be a coincidence?
Horror slid in his eyes as he watched her. Questions burgeoned, answers of which he knew were as unpalatable as poison. Even in her angelic sleep and harmless stance, she looked dangerously treacherous.
If she had done this, what he so wished she hadn't, she had to be murdered. Not before being tied and tortured though. She had some serious secrets to spill, painful answers to give before she could be eliminated from the history of Frantinos.
There was no place for a traitor in this mansion.
And as he said it to himself, he couldn't believe he was talking about his own wife, the same woman whom he had loved so selflessly, whom he had lost himself to without a second thought.
He took a deep breathe, calming his shooting nerves that couldn't handle the angst of repercussions. He was unsure whether he'd be able to handle these inundating feelings that endlessly oozed, compelling him into believing that his wife would not be behind it. But as far as his mind went, he could not deny the possibility. He couldn't afford the risk of this extent to revel under his nose.
He took a moment to seriously consider the circumstance as another thought built.
If she had indeed set the pen drive with the sensitive data, she must have required access to a device and the only device she had her hands on was...
His gaze immediately found her laptop bag which she had neatly kept on table. He walked to it, making sure she still slept unaware of her surroundings. Even when the AC did its job impeccably, his forehead adored the beads of sweat that had now started trickling down on his face. He didn't remember being this nervous his entire life. Slowly unzipping the bag, he removed the device out of its case, setting it on the table. He leaned forward, still standing, flipping the laptop open. He couldn't but let his gaze swiftly move back to her, finding her dead asleep.
Turning the device on he felt his heartbeats rising, wildly aware of what he was doing. Her screen brightened immediately, portraying the plain black background, allowing him in without a password lock. He made a few soft clicks,letting himself in deeper into the system. He couldn't help but remember that her laptop was monitored all the time. If she had as much as sent a text in the suspicious tone, his technical team would have informed him next moment. How was it that she fabricated such a volatile information without anyone knowing?
She didn't do anything!!
His mind yet again hissed on him, frustrated that he suspected his wife for an act so perfidious.
And yet he had to affirm. He quickly took his phone out, taking a picture of her screen, capturing the IP address of her laptop. Scrolling through his contacts, he sent it to the contact he had been rigorously in touch with today, Rocco.
Match this for pd. He typed the text after picture, hoping to his core that it won't be a match, that the dangerous pen drive had never came in the vicinity of his wife. His gaze followed her beautifully unaware slumber, her soft snore setting the rhythm of serenity, mocking the storm that built within.
His gaze inadvertently hardened on her.
This needn't be this complicated. She wasn't supposed to be anything more than a woman who warmed his bed, but now as she slept carelessly, knowing that in sleep or not she ruthlessly ruled his heart, she had been more, way more than he wanted her to be.
If it had been for any other woman in suspicion, she'd have been pinned down on the floor before interrogated like a criminal and yet he now stood far from this little woman, hesitant of confronting her directly, afraid of hurting her feelings.
He couldn't but take steps towards her, keenly watching, wondering whether he overlooked the lies in her eyes, or she never spoke them for him to see.
Another question blazed red in his mind.
Why?
There was no reason that he could see for her to take a step so dangerous, so wrong. He had never witnessed the fakeness on her features, lies in her sincerity.
Was it even true that she didn't understand Italian?
As long as she had spent with him, it was only absurd she didn't learn anything at all. He worked presumably carefree around her, assuming no matter how confidential secrets he opened in front of his men in Italian, she'd never understand them.
What if she did?
If that was even minisculely possible, it was over, she was the most perilous threat for him alive. He couldn't wait to see the truth through her, helplessly aware that regardless for what evidence spoke about her, he had to see the truth beaming through her eyes, hitting him before he killed her.
His mind smacked himself for building a theory on a weakly held suspicions and yet he couldn't get rid of it. His instincts never gave him a wrong signal. If they were wary of her, they were wary of her. As much as his heart wanted to go soft on her presumably innocent stance, his instinct told him otherwise. It wanted to pounce on her right now, clasping her neck in a death grip, not loosening its hold till she spilled the truth.
By the time he could hold himself back, he already stood at the edge of bed, watching her chest heave softly up and down with her breathe. His heart beat calmed as he closed the distance between them. It was not that his rage sufficed, it still burnt, even more vigorously every second, wanting to unearth exactly what role she had played in this picture, and yet he suppressed it, at least for a while.
He moved furtively, slowly to not disturb her sleep. Taking his suit jacket off before slinging his boots, he settled himself in bed, laying in front, her face barely inches away from his. As heavy sleeper as she was, she didn't notice the heavy weight dipping in bed, taking the cushion away from under her leg. But she certainly felt tingly when a rough hand moved from the edge of her forehead to cheek, as if patting her in admiration. Even in delirium she recognised his soothing touch caressing her. A glimpse of serene smile pressed under her cheek as she unknowingly melt into his hand, leaning further into it she pressed her hand on his, making herself comfortable under the cushion of his palm.
The gesture so simple caught him off guard, smacking him in the face. Everything seemed meaningless when he realised he couldn't trust the only woman he loved, the only someone he looked up to in his life, the woman who meant something, and perhaps, exaggeratingly everything. As difficult as it became to compose his stoic stance he couldn't hold it inside. He didn't realise when the trickle of tear traced the corner of his eyes before falling off the edge of his nose, as his breathe became an uncontrollable shudder, his thudding heart urged to stop for a bit, wishing an escape from its cage.
She felt the shiver of his hand on her face and in an instant her eyes opened, witnessing something she had never imagined. Sleep flew out of her eyes as if it hadn't held her hostage a minute ago, replacing it with immense worry for the man that now laid helplessly by her side. It was her time to caress his face, the urgency in her voice evident,
"Why oh god...What's...what's wrong?"
Her gentle hand traced the wetness around his eyes, wondering whether what she touched were truly tears. He knew this wasn't the time to expose his weakness but he couldn't protect his fortress as it came crashing down under the quake of his putrefying emotions.
She tried to sit up from his embrace as he pushed her back down, forcing her to nothing but watch helplessly as he broke, subtly, silently. His pieces dripped in tears as he shed them, warily but with determination, to weep this once, just this once, never again. This would be the last time he allowed himself to be human, capable of feeling the frustration this intensely, letting tears get the best of him before he could stop them in their tracks. There was a strange content in crying in front of someone, something that could minisculely override the pain of crying alone. As he watched the assemblage of emotions in her eyes, he realised he had chosen that someone wisely. The loved one they mentioned in poetry didn't always dwell in fiction after all, as in useless words, in inanimate curves of the dried ink, but sometimes they morphed, into a person, with back eyes, and golden skin with a tiny little mole in the corner of their lips.
And they laid there for minutes, watching each other in the dark dark night as if what they watched was a painting, their favourite one. The more they watched it, the deeper it became, evoking the emotions nothing else could evince.
"se sei un traditore..." His heavy voiced hit the air, slowly wiping the lone tear she had shed for God knows what,
(If you're the traitor)
He watched her closely, paying great attention to her eyes that didn't left his for a second,
"malato dovrò ucciderti" he whispered.
(I'll have to kill you)
"come sarebbe in grado di farlo?"
(How would I be able to do that?)
He moaned in pain.
And even when he expected at least a slight twitch of her facial muscles in recognition of the words, it never occured. It was as if he spoke but nothing came out of his mouth, all that she heard was pain. From what and why and how she did not know, but he was hurt, severely in that.
As much as he didn't want to tell her something, he heartily wished to. It was the helplessness he couldn't explain, of wanting to do something so eagerly, but being held back by his own demons.
She wondered whether this was another episode of him wanting to hear the same thing she didn't want to say. Only that unlike the time before, he looked gravely injured even before she denied his affection, conflicted with himself beyond her comprehension and when his hand had stroked her face and as he had mouthed the painful words, she couldn't but think back to yesterday night's confession, the same one where she had broken his hope into pieces. She wondered if that was what he still worried about and without a second thought she decided to end- what she thought his misery was,
"I love you too"
It was barely a whisper, but he heard it, loud and clear as it hit his ears and kept hitting, like a defeaning echo in the quiet range of mountains.
He didn't believe it. Far from it, he wanted to slap himself to see whether he was dreaming. He was beyond shocked at the way she had interpretated him.
She recognised the change of expressions immediately, gravely realising that she had said something utterly unexpected, wildly miscalculating his intentions.
Her pupils dilated in the fright, realising her stupid stupid mistake.
"Did you not...oh God.. I thought...I am so stupid ill just"
"Shhhh" his index finger stopped her mouth before it could dilute the depth of three words she had ever so truthfully said.
She watched wide eyed as he got on top of her, looking hypnotized, unaware of everything he was thinking before precisely following the instructions of his heart.
"What did you say?" He asked, supporting his weight on his arms, imprisoning her under his weight as she watched him in fear, and compassion, anticipation and worry.
"I didn't want to-"
"What did you say" his whisper cut her sentence, the edge of his voice as evident as the hasten of his hands sneaking under her dress, pulling her panties down.
"Oh god" she couldn't but watch in panic as his hands swiftly moved around her body. Her gaze traced as he slung the piece of her dignity off the bed, undoing his own pants, freeing the monster that had hardened underneath.
"What. Did. You. Say" this time he seethed in inhandalable wait, his urgent breathe fanning her features. He wanted to hear it again and he wanted hear it now.
Her eyes met him again, wondering why that had mattered so much.
"I think...I.." she hesitated...thinking twice, biting on whether she did the right thing.
"I..."
She felt his manhood stroking her pussy that had somehow gathered wetness even in the times so sensitive. She only needed to look in his eyes again to witness the love he did not spoke about before deciding what she was just about to say. Again.
"I...love you"
She all but screamed as he entered her in single thrust, completely filling her with himself.
"Again." He demanded, not getting enough of the sweet words that pulled him deeper and deeper into the euphoric mire.
"Don't do this to yourself" she pleaded, feeling him slowly move inside her, taking his time in devouring her piece by piece.
"Please" he pleaded more desperately, softly pecking her lips, ignoring the trickle of tear dropping down her eye. His hand caressed her face, pushing the hair off her forehead, ensuring they never disturbed her vision, her face.
"Just this once" he beseeched, the agony in his gaze transperant.
"I love you" she whispered for the sake of it, witnessing as he cursed under his breathe, as if she had just freed him of the decades of gut wrenching shackles. Unable to keep watching his tormenting eyes she gave in, pulling him closer in a kiss and he obliged, melting under the spell, forgetting and reminiscing, dying and somehow, finally living.
He didn't know what he had done before, but tonight he made love to her. Never was she worshipped this deliberately as she was tonight. He all but prayed, to her body, to her soul,in a way to a part she had acquired from himself, a part that would live with her, and if time demanded, die without her.
She fell asleep a little later.
He did not.
He watched her instead, as she clinged a little closer to his arm, a little comfortably on his chest.
He watched her like a ghost from under the bed. Like a life sworn devotee of an Indian goddess. Like a kid fond of rainbow wrapped candy.
Like a long lost lover.
When he heard the quite vibration on the table did his gaze waver.
He swiftly unlocked his phone with his fingerprint, slowly to not make too many movements that'll break her sleep, seeing the text he had expected a lot earlier.
"It's not a match. I'll keep looking"
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Author's note: next chapter is going to be the last one. How are you all feeling about it?
Ngl I feel kinda depressed after this chapter.