Page 55 of Blinded By The Sun
Ciro
Being on this jet is nothing but to see and observe as King takes it all in. It makes me wish I had that part of me back. The innocence before it was ripped away from but those years are long gone. I watch as King shuts her eyes and not even a second later, she’s tearing up. I can’t explain what makes me want to rip my heart out of my chest when she sobs, but it breaks every part of me.
Nothing about women crying has ever attracted me or made me feel like I needed to jump into action, but I can’t handle this. I can’t take it. I get out of my seat before the other men come to her rescue. They’ve also grown to love and protect her. Nothing inside of me pauses as I realize what I’ve just said. I take her into my arms, but she doesn’t stop crying.
“Baby, baby… What is it?” I ask her, but all she does is sob even harder. Fuck.
I carry her into my arms and into the private cabin. I sit on the edge of the bed, cradling her in my arms. I can’t take this. It’s making me too sad. “Baby, Kingsley, please talk to me… Tell me what it is? I’ll fix it. I really will. Don’t cry anymore. It hurts me to see you cry. Please.” I beg her.
I have never begged someone so much in my life to stop crying. King moves around and sits up, wrapping her arms around my neck. She holds onto me and doesn’t let go. “Thank you.” she says.
“For what, babe? I haven’t even done much for you.” I answer her back.
“You’ve done more than enough. You don’t know what you mean to me. I love you, Ciro Sarkozy, for everything that you are. I love you for being my future and not my past,” she confesses.
I shut my eyes, wrapping my arms around her tight, not letting go. “Fuck, baby, I love you too.” It doesn’t even bother me or make me feel weird that I’ve said it to her.
Instead of getting the crying, I get the hiccups and giggles. King unwraps her arms and sits on my lap. She straddles me, cupping my face in her hands; she stares at me as if I’m a new creation and she wants to learn so much about me. “You love me?” she asks.
I smirk and shrug. “Guess I do, huh?”
“Franchement?” She asks.
I blink once. A long blink at that and open my eyes once more. “Yes.” King hiccups and giggles once more. “Are you nervous, baby? Did I just make you nervous?” I ask her as I wipe the tears from her face.
She nods. “You always make me nervous, Demetrius.” she says.
I tilt my head, and she mimics it. “Do you remember?” I ask her.
“Remember what?” She asks.
“You just called me Demetrius.”
She shakes her head. “Did-hiccup-I?” She asks.
I nod and chuckle. “What am I going to do with you, huh Kingsley Storm?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’m in love with a cry baby and not only that, a woman who can’t remember her past but wants a future with me.”
“I know my past.”
I tip her chin up a bit. “No,” I shake my head. “But you will in due time. I can already see the way you look at me, Helena. The way you used to gaze at me cannot compare to the way you look at me as Kingsley. You, my love, are a beautiful creation of God in and out. How could I ever forget to love you for always? How much of a fool was I that I forgot my love for you and the fact that I lived for you? Is it a shame, though?” I ask her.
I know that King doesn’t know or understand what I’m saying, but she still entertains me. “It is not a shame because you’re here. You’re alive and so am I. You waited for me, Ciro Sarkozy.”
“I did, didn’t I? Even with my fuckups, I stumbled into your life,” I confess.
“Or I stumbled into yours. Tell me again, oh tell me again, Ciro. I beseech thee.” She smiles and bites her lip.
“I love thee, O, Kingsley Storm, my forgotten past, my remembered present and my forever future.”
