I'm so exhausted that sleep has come in all shapes, including a faint. Seconds after I close my eyes I drift into a deep slumber and forget this world in a blink of an eye.
I don't know how much I've slept, but when I open my eyes, I can see it's still dark outside. It must be very late at night or very early in the morning, and my stomach rumbles like it has a life of its own.
I twist and turn and do my best to forget about this life-sucking hunger and go back to sleep because I know that the moment I stand up all sleep is gone.
Useless though, I have to feed the monster in my stomach.
I roll on one side, standing up from the warmth of my bed that I'm already missing and I think of how nice it would have been to put that ass of Jason's at work and bring me food in bed.
But then again, that would give him sort of... a word to say in this house and that is not sitting well with me.
So, I throw a house robe over my... nothing (I love sleeping naked) and walk out of my bedroom towards the kitchen, slapping my feet on the kitchen marble.
"Are you okay?" Jason's voice bellows in the room and the bottle of milk I've just opened flies gracefully from my hands over the kitchen island, greeted by my pitched yelp, and lands, in the same elegance, on Jason's shirt as he's standing in front of me, on the other side of the island.
"Fuck!" Jason curses, shaking his hands, splashing the milk all over the floor, and checking his black shirt stained with the white liquid.
"Fucking shit, Jason," I mumble, trying to regain my breath. "What the hell are you doing?" I shout in a pitched voice.
"Me? What the fuck are you doing?!" he replies, taking tissues from the counter to wipe off the milk.
"Well, I didn't hear you sneaking up on me like that," I say sarcastically. "You scared the shit out of me, Jason!"
"I wasn't sneaking, Eve," he replies, wiping his shirt some more and throwing the dirty tissues into the garbage bin.
"I wasn't sneaking, Eve," I say, mocking his deep, rough voice.
He smiles, peeking at me, and shakes his head.
"You're a fucking full hand, Eveline."
"You're a fucking full hand, Eveline," I mock him some more, walking to the counter and grabbing a water bottle from the stand.
"Hey, stop that!" he laughs.
I shift my eyes to him, staring at his face, and admire him in his full glory.
He's totally changed in my eyes. His rather medium figure looks now bulky, toned with wide shoulders and thick arms, chest hard, showing through the few open buttons of his shirt.
His legs are surely long, with muscles showing through the tight fabric of his suit pants, flexing with each step he takes.
"And you are a liar, Jason," I tell him, and he smirks without looking at me.
I wish he has never pretended to be my boyfriend so he can be my friend, my best friend, someone other than my family that I can talk to and ease my heavy chest.
"No, I'm not. I'm just a damn good hitman working for your dad. I've just fallen for the... wrong person," he replies.
"Oh, fuck off, Jason!"
"Jesus, when did you get to have this foul mouth?"
"Since I had to fucking man up, Jason," I reply, bothered by his judgment, but right then the intercom rings announcing someone is downstairs.
Jason walks a few huge steps and presses the button.
"Yeah," he answers.
"Jason, open up," I hear uncle Mike saying and my racing heart almost chokes me, jumping right in my throat.
His voice is rough, filled with anger, and I immediately imagine the worst.
"Sure, Mike. Come up," Jason says and activates the elevator.
I take a deep breath and Jason immediately jumps next to me, wrapping his arms around my cold self, planting a kiss on my temple.
Surely the seriousness in uncle Mike's voice was no good news and Jason knew that.
"Women in your family don't break, Eve," he whispers in my ear and walks away the moment the elevator's door opens and a dark-eyed uncle Mike walks in.
His lips are pressed into a thin line and his thick eyebrows have frowned in a straight line when landing his eyes on Jason.
"Jason, out!" he orders and Jason walks towards the elevator not before nodding to uncle Mike and giving me another encouraging glare.
"Uncle Mike," I say, throat dry, swallowing the lump that has formed in my throat once my eyes land on his face, lifting my nose, radiating confidence that I swear I don't have but there is this power building up inside of me, growing with every second.
I can easily tell he is angry, the amber of his eyes is almost chocolate brown, and his eyebrows are gathered in a straight line that doesn't lose the tension even after landing his eyes on me.
He used to melt every time he would see me.
Seems today is not the case.
I decide to disregard the intensity of his stare and jump right into his arms, sobbing, relieved that I have in front of me at least one of the men, my dearest ones, walking on his own feet.
"Welcome back, uncle Mike," I whisper wrapped in his strong arms, barely breathing air in.
"Sweetie..." he says melting down and softening his voice.
Ha, I knew it!
We stay like this for a few good moments, uncle Mike rocking my body left and right, lightly and gently, bringing me memories of my happy childhood.
"What's wrong with you, kid?" he asks, still holding me and caressing the crown of my head and I know his question is deeper than he tries to tell.
I do take advantage of that because I know something more is in his thoughts.
"I'm hurting, uncle Mike," I complain and sob some more.
"You're not the only one, kid. Your dad is crashed. You weren't home when we arrived, and he blamed himself for having shouted at you before he left. And we both know this isn't the reason you are hurting, kid. So why do you punish his buttons?" he replies.
"He didn't allow me to come with you. And now... I don't even know..." I try to say between sniffs and sobs, but couldn't finish a proper sentence.
Uncle Mike lifts my head with his long fingers, glaring into my eyes. My vision is blurred with tears, but I can still see the amber of his eyes showering me, shining like honey.
"Eve, he's alright, he's in an induced coma till his wounds will heal, but that's all it is to it. Your father, on another hand... I'm not sure it will be pretty when he finds out," he says and I feel there is more in his words than just me falling for an older man, not just any man, the one I've known as my uncle my entire life.
Uncle Mike wipes some of my tears away.
"How did you find out?" I ask him, sniffing at the last of my sobs.
"Marce told me. Besides, your name was all he mumbled while we took him out of there," he replies.
I stop the sounds of my sobs with the right hand pressed on my mouth, suppressing my cries and staring back at uncle Mike, letting my tears fall double, compensating for the sobs I've swallowed, almost shaping Enzo in front of my eyes, broken and hurt.
"You better come home, Eve. Your dad needs you and he doesn't deserve the struggle he's going through right now," my uncle says, and I nod, pulling myself out of his arms and walking fast to my room to change into something wearable for the way back to our mansion.
I know uncle Mike has come to pick me up and not just talk. Sometimes you just need to follow the men of this family, no matter how stubborn they can be.
Half an hour later we're entering the gates, lights on all over the place and the mansion's windows glowing.
I frown, looking up, wondering what the hell is happening, my heart shrinking in worry.
It's five mornings alright, still dark outside, but I had never seen our house this bright with all lights on.
I shift my eyes to uncle Mike, silently asking him what's going on.
"Well, good luck, kid," he says, laughing at me as if he's feeding himself with my anxiety and I pout, glaring at him.
"Don't leave me alone," I'm whining like a baby but meaning business.
He laughs loudly and wraps an arm around my shoulders.
"You'll be fine, Eve, don't worry," he squeezes my right shoulder lightly and we both get out of the car.
Just before I put my foot on the first stair leading to the front door, it sways open, and mom comes out with her usual royal grace and a warm smile on her face.
"Sweetie," she greets me, reaching her arms to me, hugging me tight as soon as I'm in front of her.
Her calmness helps, it really does. It almost creeps into a smile on my lips.
"Where's dad?" I ask in a shaky voice.
"Office," she replies, raising one eyebrow and staring back at me.
"Alright," I reply with a deep sigh, gathering my scattered courage and walking past mom, towards my dad's office door.
With a light knock, I push soundlessly the door and peek my head inside.
I see dad's frame, crashed in his armchair, a glass in his hand while the smoke of a cigar is dancing up from between his fingers.
"Dad?" I whisper, hoping the honey of my voice will melt his anger.
"Pumpkin?" he replies, snapping his head towards the door, his voice deep and barely heard but so much sweeter than I've expected.
"Oh, dad," I sob, breaking down and running straight into his stretched arms towards me, standing up in the grace of his height, wrapping me in one of those warm, carrying hugs.
He sniffs a good chunk of air with his nose buried in my hair, sucking it deeply into his lungs and sighing it out.
"It's so good to have you back, Dad," I tell him while he cups my face in his large palms, planting a kiss on my forehead.
"It's good to be home, pumpkin," he replies, hugging me again. "I'm so sorry to have shouted at you like that the other day. I was..."
"Are you alright? Are you hurt?" I stop his excuses because my dad never needs to apologize, especially to me.
I'm checking his face, knowing each of my father's scars and wound marks, and hoping I don't find new ones.
"I'm okay, sweetheart. Just a few scratches, that's all," he replies, and wrapping one arm around my waist, we both walk out from his cave-like office to the bright light of the hallway.
We meet mom and uncle Mike in the living room.
"Oh, my God. Look who decided to get out of his cave!" mom mocks dad and stands up, crossing the living room and stopping only in his arms. "Are you going to eat now, Lucas?" she scolds him, head tilted way back and searching his eyes with a lovely smile plastered on her face.
"Of course!" my dad replies with strong laughter breaking on the house's walls coming from his broad chest. "My pumpkin is home."
I roll my eyes at my father's words like the brat that I usually am but I feel so good for being spoiled like that.
I used to believe that nothing could break my dad, even if something was to happen to me or my mom, he would still be the mountain of strength I knew all my life, sad and hurting, but still holding strong and stoic in front of any storm might come.
And yet, the one I've witnessed a few minutes ago, engulfed in his leather armchair, shrunk in his deep sadness is my soft dad, my always loving dad that can break down with any distance mom and I put.
We had breakfast with all the family gathered around the dining table, except for Enzo.
Not that he has usually been a part of our daily life, at least not in person, but to me, this moment feels incomplete.
Dad fills us in with the details of Enzo's situation while I'm hardly swallowing my food, doing the best I can to hide my sorrow.
Grandpa Marce is sighing every two minutes, comforted by grandma with a hand squeeze.
Uncle Mike glares at me from the other side of the table, sending me eye messages to stay strong.
One could say it's a breakfast just like any other we have had always, but not for me.
There is a big chunk of me missing, wandering somewhere in Napoli, in search of its wholeness.
I give in to dad when he asks me after breakfast to stay for the day so I've called Jason and told him he can come back the next day in the evening. He can pick me up from school if he wants to.
I have a lot to catch up with at school, not that I specifically feel to but because I don't want to have anything left for the summer vacation.
I'm hoping I can spend it somewhere with Enzo, silly me, still trusting that the earth would not burn down when my father is to know about us.
*****
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