25. My bed

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Sofia Zanetti - POV

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Sofia Zanetti - POV

"Fuck!" My entire body shook as his voice filled the entire house. Sebastian had messaged me an hour ago about a break in which took place in one of Lorenzo's warehouse, so I'm guessing this was him letting out this anger.

I stepped out of the living room, my eyes interlocking with Lorenzo who stood against the kitchen island, a bottle of whiskey in his hand. My eyes widened as I stared down at his shirt. His usual crisp white shirt was stained red. Blood.

"Go back upstairs" he ordered, as he poured himself a drink. His knuckles were red, blood seeping through the cracked skin.

"You're bleeding" I took a step closer to him, his shirt was ripped at the arm, a slash on his upper bicep. He had been slashed with a knife and the wound seemed to be still fresh as blood poured out. My eyes fell on the trail of blood besides my feet.

"I'm fine, go upstairs"

I would've because I'm meant to hate him and shouldn't care but for some reason I couldn't. I don't know why the Samaritan in me was jumping out now when all I felt for this man was hatred. He needed to treat his arm or it would get infected.

"No."

"Go." I ignored his harsh order, and looked inside the cupboards until I found a kit.

"What are you doing?" He watched me as I pulled out everything I needed.

"I'm going to stitch it up"

"No."

"I didn't ask" I scoffed, as I stepped in front of him. Ignoring my heart which was racing in my chest as it always did whenever he was a few inches away.

I began to unbutton his shirt, until his toned chest came into view.

"If you wanted to see my body piccolina, all you had to do was ask"

"I don't want to hear it." I rolled my eyes, before pulling out the island stool and gestured for him to sit. He was reluctant at first but then sat down. I didn't miss his eyes wandering over to my bare thighs then to my cleavage.

"Continue to stare at me and I'll give you a matching one on the other arm" he just sent me a smirk, his eyes not bothering on looking away. Asshole.

"And you will treat that one too? Piccola Moglie?" Little wife.

I ignored the comment and began to soak a cotton bud in alcohol and began to wipe around the area. He didn't flinch or show any sign of discomfort. I'm sure he was used to the pain, as his body did sport a lot of scars.

After applying the numbing cream to the area and letting it sit, I took his wrists and began cleaning off the blood. His hand were so much larger than mine, and colder. Tingles shot throughout my hand to the rest of my body as I held his in mine. Hot and cold.

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