Page 48 of Kissing the Villain

Marcello ignored my question, hands on his narrow hips as he watched me eat. I slurped the liquid, my stomach rumbling, and bit into the toast. A flavor explosion spread across my tongue as I chewed and swallowed the bread in one gulp.

Eyes on me, Marcello lounged in the armchair by the window, a black wingtip on his knee. We sat in silence, which suited me fine. He spoke little, and I had nothing to say to his grumpy ass after locking me in my bedroom.

After I finished eating, he got up from the chair and moved the tray to the writing desk. “Do you need to use the bathroom?”

“Yes.”

Marcello lifted me in his arms.

“I can walk,” I protested. “You don’t have to carry me.”

We entered the ensuite bathroom, and he placed my feet on the cold tiled floor.

“I’m not peeing with you in here,” I mumbled, sleep clouding my rough and scratchy voice. “Get out.”

The room swayed in front of me. A flash of colors and lights blurred my vision as a sharp pain pierced my skull.

I pressed my fingers to my temple. “I don’t feel good.”

My head pounded like a jackhammer drilling into cement.Not a migraine, I thought as Marcello turned his back to give me some privacy. Sometimes, the headaches were so bad that I threw up for hours. Other times I had fucked up flashbacksand nightmares that made it impossible to tell the difference between fact and fiction.

I slid my panties down and sat on the toilet, humiliated with Marcello standing a few feet away. But with the room slipping out from under me, I didn’t care as much. I wiped, pulled up my panties, and flushed the toilet. A wave of nausea hit me like a ton of bricks.

Clutching the edge of the sink, I stared into the mirror, seeing two of myself. The one on the left gave me a devilish grin. The one on the right blew me a kiss.

What the fuck?

My mind played tricks on me. I should have been able to trust myself above anyone else. But when my dissociative episodes spiraled out of control, I was helpless, like I was right now.

And then I thought of the coffee and toast Marcello had given me.

“What did you…”

As I lost my balance, Marcello scooped me into his arms and whispered, “I got you, princess.”

Blinkingthe sleep from my eyes, I flattened onto my back and glanced up at Marcello. Dressed in another dark suit, his ink-black hair was messy but styled, and he was armed with his usual emotionless expression. A few times, I saw him crack a smile, though those moments were rare.

He loomed over me like a tree. “Luca’s home.”

Despite nausea sweeping over me, I didn’t miss the excitement stirring in my belly. Luca had the strangest effect onme. Love and hate were the same emotions when they concerned my devil in disguise.

“But I thought… You said Luca wouldn’t be home until the party.”

Marcello shoved his hands into his pockets and frowned. “The masquerade ball is tonight.”

I peeled the sheets from my sticky legs and sat up, fanning myself. When I had privacy, I preferred to sleep in as little clothing as possible. Most nights and mornings, I woke up drenched in sweat.

“No, that’s not right. It’s only Thursday.”

He shook his head. “It’s Saturday.”

A gnawing pain throbbed at the base of my skull. How the hell did I lose two days?

I glanced up at Marcello, afraid of the answer, but asked anyway. “Did I have an episode?”

He nodded.

“How bad was it?”

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