Cee screamed, lashing out with her arms and legs as she scrambled away from the spreading pool of blood, the body - her sister - she couldn't move. It was like her limbs were covered in thick, sticky tar, trapping her in honey - she couldn't get away and the blood was drowning her, filling her mouth, her eyes, her ears-
"Camilla." Her eyes snapped open, seeing nothing but blackness, still screaming.
Niccolò caught her wrist tightly, a cold look on his face.
"Oh," she breathed, her lungs heaving, the fear in her eyes dimming. Caterina had been right in front of her, melting through her fingers - bleeding - there was so much blood- "Nightmare."
"Do you want to talk about it?" He held on to her arm warily, his gaze piercing through her skull; he looked uncomfortable.
"No," Cee mumbled defensively, trying to pull her arm away, but he held on, frustration building up in his body, holding her too tightly.
"We need to talk," he demanded, not letting her escape - Cee felt tears rise to eyes - she was scared, tired and grieving; she wasn't ready to deal with him. He had found her body, found her baby sister.
"I don't understand," she whispered. "Can this wait?"
"No," he replied sharply, narrowing his eyes. "No, it can't wait." She hated the way he was looking at her; the anger didn't suit him. She preferred his calm glances over breakfast, the looks that meant he found her amusing - anything but the hatred in his eyes.
"Why are you so angry with me?" Cee asked, pulling at his hand, as if it would make a difference. "Just leave me alone-"
"You need to trust me," he snapped, ignoring her attempts to free herself, trying desperately to reign in his anger. "Make yourself trust me, I don't care - you have to trust me, or I can't protect you."
"I do trust you," she protested, giving up on trying to make him let go; as she spoke she realised it was true. She trusted Niccolò with her life, for better or for worse - it was against her better, logical judgement, but it was a gut instinct. He wouldn't hurt her again. "I trust you, Niccolò."
"Then talk to me," he snapped, slamming his hand against the wall behind her head - Cee flinched, her eyes wide - she wasn't scared he would hit her - he could hurt himself. "Ragazza stupida - talk to me and trust me. Don't you know what could have happened?"
Cee yanked her arm away, scrambling away from him - but he watched her go with cold, cold eyes. All at once, she realised this was his delayed reaction; after all the worrying about her sister, the only thing he cared about was the disrespect she'd shown.
"I'm sorry," she protested, pleading with him. "I thought my father was dying- I had to go."
Niccolò glared at her, his hands clenched into fists, his shoulders shaking with the effort of restraining himself. "Then you come to me," he snarled, "you tell me you found out - you trust me to make the right decision."
"You wouldn't have let me go!" Cee shouted back, almost instantly regretting it as she saw his expression turn murderous - but she kept running her mouth. "You didn't even tell me he was apparently dying!"
"Why, so you could run into Vincenzo's trap?" he shot back angrily. "So you could ruin the peace I want?"
"The peace you want?" Cee gave a shrill, mocking laugh. "My sister is dead because of your stupid peace, your stupid wars- it's your fault she's dead."
She broke off sharply, looking down, curling her knees against her chest and pressed a fist against her mouth, but that couldn't stop a broken sob slipping out.
Niccolò watched impassively as tears slid down her cheeks, his anger vanishing almost immediately. He'd never been good around emotional people - even with his own family. He'd struggled so much with his younger sister and her condition; he just wanted to help. He didn't know how - but he reached out for Camilla.
His fingertips brushed her shoulder and she flinched, pushing his hands away as he kept trying to hold her, to try to express that it was okay to cry.
"Don't touch me," she snapped, her voice rising into hysterics as the tears blinded her. "Don't touch me - don't touch me!" Cee pushed at his chest, slapping at his arms, sobbing helplessly as she beat her fists against his chest and cried. Niccolò absorbed everything, pulling her closer and pushing his instinctive anger deep, deep down to let her cry into his chest. She struggled for a second before breaking down, clutching at his shirt as if it could lift her above the grief she was drowning in. After several minutes of hysterics, she lifted her head slightly.
"I didn't mean to say that," she managed, her voice choked with tears. "It wasn't your fault."
Surprisingly, he nodded silently, accepting her attempt at an apology as she leaned away, controlling herself. Cee let the tears roll down her face, dripping onto her bare skin; she hated that Caterina was gone, she hated that she was afraid, she hated that she'd used it against Niccolò.
He handed her a shirt he'd pulled swiftly out of a wardrobe; Cee looked down, realising she was undressed - too tired to care, she pulled it on.
Niccolò had walked out of the room, to let her change in private, but she took a minute to calm herself, wiping her tears and taking deep breaths.
When her shoulders stopped shaking, Cee padded silently out to the living area - Niccolò was leaning against one of the kitchen surfaces, a glass of whiskey in one hand, another on the table top.
His eyes stayed fixed on her as she approached, assessing her. She jumped up onto the counter, sitting facing him, but didn't look at him, just watched as she swung her legs back and forth slowly.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, daring to peek up at him through her lashes.
"Don't." Niccolò passed her the second glass of whiskey. "I apologise too." He stared into the amber liquid, swirling it mindlessly.
"I didn't think you'd care this much," she mumbled, pulling a face at the bitter taste of alcohol. Niccolò raised his gaze to her face, staring at her impassively. "Don't look at me like that," she muttered, avoiding his gaze.
"I don't respond well to orders." Niccolò finished his glass, setting it down sharply on the counter. "I'm angry with you," he told her, losing the tension in his shoulders; even when he was standing, and she was sitting on a high kitchen surface, he looked down at her.
"I know," Cee mumbled, wrapping an arm around herself, lifting her glass again.
"Don't run away - don't pull a stunt like that again," he warned her, folding his arms across his chest, his biceps straining the sleeves of his shirt. Cee gave a weak half-smile, trying to lighten the tension between them; he rolled his eyes. "I mean it - no more running."
"I'll try my best," she offered, idly running her fingertip around the rim of her glass.
"Promise me." He glared at her, but she wasn't scared of him anymore.
"Do you want me to pinky swear too?" Cee looked up at him innocently, daring him to test her.
"You're infuriating." She could almost feel his anger disappearing; he was fond of her, even if it was just a little. She looked down, her forced smile fading a little; maybe if she hadn't gone, Caterina would be alive.
To her surprise, a tear slid down her cheek; she laughed awkwardly, wiping it away, but more followed. "Sorry," she forced another chuckle, "just tired."
Niccolò watched her struggle for a second, feeling his resolve disappear; he stepped forward, tugging her arm away from her waist and placing it around him, pulling her into his chest for the second time.
Cee closed her eyes, resting her head against his chest and letting her fingers clutch at the material of his shirt as she cried silently, letting the protected feeling wash over her.
Niccolò sighed, holding her like glass -she could break at any second. He was furious with her because he wanted to keep her safe - he couldn't do that if she was running away from him at every possible chance - and he didn't know how to help her grief - emotions were frustrating, alien and overwhelming for him.
"Go to bed," he ordered gruffly, untangling her arms and stepping back. He couldn't afford to lose focus - she was already at risk.
She nodded quietly, rubbing at her eyes childishly and slipping off the counter. She paused in the doorway of her room, glancing back over her shoulder. Niccolò was watching her with an unreadable expression, his eyes catching hers briefly; she pushed away the part of her that wanted him to join her in bed, and turned back, approaching quietly.
He watched her as she slipped in front of him, gently tugging at the collar of his shirt to make him duck his head; he felt a warm spark of fondness as he obeyed. Cee kissed his cheek, just quickly.
"Goodnight, Niccolò," she mumbled, turning away before she could see him smile, just briefly.
When Cee woke up, the apartment was empty.
Cee walked towards the lift, pushing her arms through her coat sleeves as she crossed the suite; she wanted to visit her apartment.
Her house plants would definitely be dead now.
Cee stepped into the lift, pressing the button for the ground floor; the display beeped once - nothing moved.
She pressed the button again, after a pause, and checked the display as it beeped again.
Swipe keycard.
Cee felt stupid for a second, stepping back out into the suite and searching for a keycard.
The counters were empty, aside from a mobile, the draws barren; she felt embarrassment and frustration wash over her. Niccolò had left her, stuck here. She couldn't even get out.
Cee tore off her coat, feeling a headache forming behind her temples; she picked up the abandoned phone, turning it over in her hands - it had been sitting on a note.
Call me if you need me
-N
The phone had no password, no code to unlock it - Cee tapped onto contacts, realising Niccolò had already left her his number.
She dialled it, frowning as she looked out the window. There was a small pause before the line crackled.
"Romano." His deep voice sent butterflies to her stomach - soft brushes of wings that made her tense with guilt.
"I can't get out." Cee listened to him sigh at the sound of her voice.
"That's the idea." She felt her shoulders hunch, anger twisting her spine.
"What do you mean, Niccolò? Why won't you let me out?" She hated that her immediate reaction was for tears to spring to her eyes; she was still grieving, still vulnerable.
"You are safe there."
"So I can't leave?" Her voice wavered, cracking slightly - but he heard. There was silence for a second.
"I'll be back in an hour. Be ready to leave."
Cee stared at the phone in her hand in shock: he'd hung up on her.
She placed the phone back on the counter slowly, thinking over their conversation; she didn't know how to feel. On the one hand, he'd locked her in the apartment with no way of getting out.
On the other hand, she knew he had his reasons.
Cee wandered back across the apartment, towards her room. There was a spare room - or perhaps it was Niccolò's? - just next door; she shouldn't go in, she knew she shouldn't. It wouldn't be fair to Niccolò.
It wasn't fair to lock her in an apartment alone either.
Cee pushed open the door nervously, half expecting laser beams to start shooting and alarms to start blaring - none of that happened.
She peeked in, noting the distinct lack of personal items; only a tie and a shirt hanging in the wardrobe seemed to suggest he lived here at all. Cee frowned, remembering she'd borrowed a shirt from him yesterday and yet-
She swore under her breath. She'd moved into the wrong bedroom - that explained his clothes in her wardrobes, why this room was so empty.
Creeping back out, she slipped into his real room - the room she'd stolen. It seemed so obvious now - the alarm clock on the bedside table, the singular picture of Luca and Niccolò as children. He was serious, even as a kid - but his eyes were a tiny bit brighter and his dark curls were much neater.
Cee couldn't help still wanting to look around; she opened the draw in the bedside table. A box was tucked neatly at the back. She almost glanced around guiltily, but she had enough time to snoop secretly.
If Niccolò wasn't going to open up to her verbally, she could work him out through his belongings.
Cee snapped open the lid of the box, admiring the beautiful watch inside; it looked expensive, shining silver in the light, the dial midnight black - it suited Niccolò. Curiously, there was a small note tucked in between the small satin cushion and the side of the box - she pulled it out carefully.
I love you
Diana
Jesus. It hadn't even occurred to her that he might have a girlfriend. Cee flushed, realising how she'd overstepped - seriously overstepped - the line; she'd slept in his bed multiple times, let him carry her, live with him-
"Shit." Cee put the watch and the note back, right where she'd found them. He wasn't married, but she'd just assumed he was single.
Cee picked up her suitcase (luckily she hadn't bothered to unpack yet) and trudged next door, moving his two items of clothing to join the rest in his actual bedroom.
"Stupid girl," she mumbled, hanging her clothes up in the wardrobe to fill the time. She'd made a fool of herself too many times; not again. She'd been daydreaming about a taken man - and he hadn't exactly dissuaded her - all while he was probably laughing behind her back.
She heard the elevator ding cheerily; but it had only been fifteen or so minutes. She flushed angrily - she didn't want to see Niccolò anymore.
"Hello?" she called uncertainly, stepping out of her bedroom. Elias nodded grumpily, his expression disgruntled. "Elias?"
"Afternoon," he folded his arms.
"What are you doing here?" Cee blinked, walking over.
"His royal highness said it was urgent." He looked her over once. "I didn't realise you needed babysitting." Cee flushed.
"I don't." She didn't offer an explanation. "You have a keycard?" He nodded, pulling it out of his pocket and waving it. Cee kept her eye on it as he turned it over in his hands.
She had a plan - a plan which didn't involve telling Niccolò.
"Do you want a drink? Tea, coffee?" Elias's eyes lit up at the sound of caffeine, nodding and following her to the kitchen, dropping the keycard on a kitchen surface.
Cee bit her lip, hiding her expression from him. She opened a couple of cupboards uselessly, finding them empty, before noticing the hot chocolate powder right at the top shelf.
"Would you mind getting that for me?" She gestured to the top shelf ruefully, knowing she couldn't reach it if she tried. Elias nodded, stretching up as high as he could - but couldn't quite get it.
"One second." He kept reaching as Cee drifted backwards, snagging the key silently and darting into the lift. She swiped the card and pressed the button for ground, realising slightly too late that she'd left her coat in her room.
"Hey!" Cee caught a glimpse of Elias's furious expression before the doors closed; she breathed a sigh of relief as the lift dropped quickly.
As the number on the display grew closer to 0, Cee realised she had no way of knowing where she was - she couldn't use the phone she'd left in the apartment to google her location, she didn't even have money for a cab, but at least she was free and she wouldn't be bothering anyone for a bit.
And she wouldn't have to face Niccolò knowing she couldn't have him.
Or rather, no one would be bothering her; she wanted to visit her apartment alone, to go home for the last time. It was the last part of her old life that remained untouched.