Page 36 of DeLuca: The Devil

Getting up, I grab her cup of water, and place the straw into her mouth, “Remember, small sips. I don’t want you to get sick.”

The nurse comes in, “Mrs. De Luca. Talk to me about your diet recently. What have you been eating? We need to know what to expect your body to be able to tolerate.”

I’m a little more than annoyed since she knows that Giada can’t fucking remember recent events. My wife looks away from me with a pained expression on her face, “Dog food. I can’t remember eating anything before that.”

“Dog food?” The nurse repeats, sounding disgusted.

Giada says, “It wasn’t by choice. Yes, hard dog food.”

I give the nurse a warning glare, “If you could get my wife some actual food, that would be fucking fabulous.”

The nurse runs out, and Giada closes her eyes, “I had to eat it. You wouldn’t understand. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have had the strength for the fights. I would’ve died. Eating that dog food saved my life.”

“Fights?” I ask even though maybe I shouldn’t.

“They have other women. We were paired up, and we had to cage fight until one of us died. The quickest way to die is by not having the strength.”

Jesus-fucking-Christ. The things my wife has been through in the last year might bring me to my knees. The only thing I want now is to take her in my arms and hold her. Of course, between her physical injuries and mental state, it’s not an option.

“Can I sleep? I’m so tired.”

“Of course, Bellissima. I’ll wake you when she brings food.”

She closes her eyes, “What’s your name?”

Inwardly, I sigh, “Domenic. But you call me Dom.”

“Okay, Dom.”

As Giada drifts off to sleep, I can’t fight the first smile on my face, in I don’t even know how long. Hearing her call me Dom soothes my weary heart. I smile to myself again. Who would’ve guessed the devil has a heart? Only for my wife. She owns it, lock, stock, and fucking barrel.

I’m watching her sleep when the nurse comes in, “I’m so sorry about before, Mr. De Luca. I wasn’t expecting that.”

I shrug, “Neither was I, but my wife was held against her will for a year. There are probably worse details than what she ate that have yet to come out, so let's try a little sensitivity.”

I can’t believe it’s me scolding a medical professional about sensitivity. She nods and sets the tray down on Giada’s tray table, “Do you want me to feed her?”

“Absolutely not. I will take care of all my wife’s needs other than medical ones.”

The nurse steps back from the bed, “Of course, sir. If you could let me know when she finishes eating. She’ll need to eat again in two hours.”

After she leaves, I gently wake Giada, “Bellissima, you need to eat.”

She opens her healthy eye and smirks at me, “I know, I’m not beautiful now.”

I stroke her palm gently, “You are always beautiful to me. The bruises will fade. The swelling will go down. They don't matter. You’re still my beautiful wife.”

Taking the cover off her bowl, I smile, “Beef broth.”

“Better than dog food,” she says.

I lift the spoon to her mouth, and she moans lightly while she eats it. You never realize the food you would not want to eat is heaven to someone who has been denied food for so long. She eats about half of it before she says she’s full. I know her stomach has shrunk since she hasn’t been eating, so I don’t press it.

“They want you to eat again in another two hours. You’ve lost too much weight.”

“So, I’m not too fat for you then?”

I chuckle, “Not even close. You never have been, Bellissima. When the doctor says you can have dessert, I’ll bring you all the Cheesecake you can stomach.”

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