Page 52 of Fatal Sloth

He nods with a serious expression, a silent invitation for me to continue.

"It's about last night when you... came to bed with me," I begin, my words stumbling out as I struggle to articulate my thoughts.

His brow furrows in confusion, but his expression remains calm, waiting for me to continue.

"I mean, I’m not mad about it," I rush out, "but I can't help but wonder why you did it."

There's a moment of silence as Sebastiano seems to process my words, his demeanor contemplative.

"I suppose I haven't brought it up because... It kinda sounds creepy," he admits after a pause, his voice carrying an air of authority. "I guess I just want to be there for you, especially when you're having trouble sleeping."

I nod slowly, acknowledging his explanation. "It umm... it’s been more than once?"

The nightmares come and go, but each one leaves a mark on my soul. Some nights, I bolt upright, heart racing, struggling to shake off the lingering terror. Other nights, I feel confined by the darkness, desperate to escape. Sometimes, I don't even remember having them.

But now that I think about it, there have been a few nights recently when I've felt a comforting presence beside me. I can’t quite explain it, but it’s like a warmth that eases my restless soul-– being wrapped in a protective blanket, shielding me from the bad thoughts. Now I know who my protective shield was.

“More like every night since we’ve been married,” he confesses as if it's no big deal at all. His words catch me off guard, and I must show it because he reaches across the table, his firm hand holds mine. "I just thought it was best to be there for you quietly without making it a big deal."

Does he not realize how much this means to me?

Perhaps he doesn't want to make a fuss for my sake, or maybe he thinks it's beneath him to admit to such a kind gesture.

His sincerity softens my heart, and I squeeze his hand gently. "I appreciate you, Sebastiano. I really do."

A small, shy smile tugs at the corners of his lips. "You don't think it’s creepy as hell?"

"It’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me," I say, trying to steady my nerves while happiness floods through me and offer him a grateful smile.

Sebastiano gives my hand a reassuring squeeze back, his touch firm but comforting. "Whatever you need, Piccolina. I'm here for you," he says like he's asking me to pass the butter.

Does he care for me, or am I just a pawn to get his title?

The uncertainty that creeps into my brain makes my doubts linger. But for now, I push it aside and cling to the warmth of his presence. For now, that's enough.

“What are your plans for today?” he asks, breaking me out of my thought bubble.

“Umm, nothing that I can think of,” I tell him, a little surprised that he asked about my day.

He takes a large gulp of his coffee and then looks at me. “I have to go to Elli’s to pick up a few things and talk to my dad. Would you like to join me?

My throat constricts, and the words get stuck on my tongue. Shocked is an understatement. In the few weeks since we tied the knot, Sebastiano has never suggested going anywhere together. While I've ventured out solo a couple of times, most outings have involved Nico shadowing me.

As he places his coffee down and turns to me, his lips press tightly together, waiting for my reply. "Sure," I manage to say.

He nods, pushing his chair back with a sharp scrape against the floor. Tossing his napkin onto his plate, he shoots me a quick look. "Good. I'm sure Dad will be happy to see you're still in one piece," he says, putting his plate near the sink. “Be ready in an hour,” he calls over his shoulder, walking towards his office.

Now I see why he invited me. It's not because he wants to spend time together; he just wants to put on a good front for his dad to keep up appearances. I should have known better than to expect anything different. Real life isn't a fairytale, and I'm far from being a princess. Sebastiano definitely isn’t a hero. He's more like the villain in this story.

Heading upstairs, I mentally debate my wardrobe options. It's not just about picking something to put on; I need to find the perfect blend between meeting with my father-in-law at his billion-dollar tech empire and happy wife look. As much as I'd love to rock a burlap sack for its effortless style, I have a feeling it won't quite appease my husband.

Standing in front of the mirror, I zip up the baby pink Chanel skirt and slide into the matching three-quarter-length sleeve jacket over a cream button-down. I'm feeling some serious Jackie Kennedy vibes. I slip on some cream heels to complete my look and make my way to Sebastiano’s office.

Walking down the hallway, I pause in front of his door, feeling a surge of nerves. Should I just walk in confidently, or should I knock and wait for him to invite me in? As I raise my hand to knock, the door swings open before my knuckles tap the door.

"You're ready?" Sebastiano asks, his tone more questioning. "I was just coming to get you."

"Well, I'm ready when you are," I reply with a slight smile, trying to mask my nerves. The nerves that just decided to make an appearance now, of all times.

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