by Serena Light
As he sat on the edge of the tub, he watched Rosalie hold her breath before completely submerging in the water. After a few moments, her head broke the surface, her hair dripping as she sought to catch her breath. As she stood up, Arcangelo grabbed a towel from the wrack, wrapping it around her before going to get her something to wear while she dried up. He helped her into the two-piece silk baby doll pajama set as she dried her hair.
"How do you feel?" Arcangelo asked her gently as he drained the tub, seeing how Rosalie's movements faltered before she cleared her throat.
"I've had better nights." She admitted.
"I know, baby." He sighed as he hugged her from behind, placing a kiss on her temple as he saw the sad expression on her features. "I know."
Turning around, she hugged Arcangelo, feeling his bare skin against her palm as she rested her ear against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat in a way to calm herself. He closed his eyes as he felt her fingers trail across his back. Gripping her waist, he buried his face into her neck, inhaling the addictive fragrance of her skin, suddenly feeling very tempted to bite.
His hands slid from her waist to her back, a soft moan escaping her at the sensation oozing through her as she nuzzled closer to him.
Wanting him.
Needing him.
Rosalie placed a kiss on the crook of his neck, before trailing higher, Arcangelo's heartbeat speeding up at her ministrations. Grabbing her hips, he squeezed lightly, trying to tell her to stop as her kisses trailed behind his ear, a soft groan escaping him as she nibbled on his earlobe.
"Rosalie, princess," He breathed heavily. "You need to stop doing this."
"Do what?" She murmured quietly as she trailed her lips to his jaw.
"Have a nightmare and then try and find solace in sex."
Almost instantly, all her movements halted.
Arcangelo knew what she was doing, and deep down, she knew too, but this was the first time either one of them voiced it aloud.
She pulled away from him, her eyes conveying the hurt she felt as she stared at him. Taking a step back she created some distance between them and crossed her arms in a defensive gesture. Rosalie stared at him for a moment, before looking away. She opened her mouth to say something before closing it as nothing came out. Swallowing twice, she tried again.
"Is that what you think I'm doing?" She inquired as hurt seeped through her voice, causing Arcangelo to wince before he rubbed a hand over his face.
"Rosalie, you - just as well as I - know this is exactly what you're doing."
A humorless chuckle escaped her as she looked away from him, shaking her head in disbelief.
"Unbelievable." She muttered under her breath before stalking out the washroom. A groan escaped Arcangelo before he grabbed a shirt, and pulled it on.
"Rosalie, for God's sake," He called after her, following behind as he watched her act busy with her phone, but he knew that nothing was happening at 3:45 in the morning. "Talk to me!"
"How can you think so lowly of me?" She shrieked, whirling around in anger. "Never once have I brought forth all the things that you have committed! Never once did I think lowly of you!"
"I do not think lowly of you!" Arcangelo exclaimed, flabbergasted at her words.
"Oh, please. You practically called me a whore."
Arcangelo mouth fell open in disbelief as he stumbled back, clearly never having expected something like that to come out of her mouth. A scoff escaped him as he shook his head, staring at her angry stance before a humorless chuckle escaped him. Swallowing thickly, he grabbed his phone and keys off the table as Rosalie's stance suddenly became nervous rather than angry, her gaze following him as he walked towards the door.
"Arcangelo?" She called out to him uncertainly as he halted in the doorway.
"I understand that you feel traumatized, and you have every right to feel so. But using me as your sex toy to try and forget everything rather than facing it is just plain wrong because that is not how you deal with trauma." He spoke monotonously, not even being able to bring himself to turn around and face her. "I am not upset that you are using me. No, do whatever you want to me. But I am hurt by what you are doing to yourself."
"Regression is not the answer." He stated quietly. "It never is. And you've seen it."
With that he walked out of the room, closing the door behind him and telling Major and Gun to stay with her.
Stepping into the warm July night, the rockery crunched under his shoes as he walked over to his Lamborghini, feeling the need to go on a drive and a fast one at that.
Arcangelo found himself going the fastest his car could go. His blood rushing through his veins as the adrenaline coursed through him. His phone kept on ringing on the center console, and to drown out the noise, he turned up the music to full, deafening himself. The empty stretch of road only got to taste the Lamborghini's tires for no more than a second and Arcangelo could have sworn he was flying.
The wind whistled past the car, the engine roaring into the night as he kept on pushing down at the accelerator, feeling the need to go faster and faster with each successive minute.
His heart hammered in his chest, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple as his breathing was coming out in short ragged pants. The excitement of going this fast having him high.
A laugh burst through him as he changed gear, going way past the two hundred marks as the engine's roar was absolutely glorious. He loved the fact that this car went up to 350 km/h and no one is to say he can't go to that speed.
Luckily no one was on the highway as he went to the full speed for the first time. Heat traveling throughout his body as his heartbeat in overdrive, his knuckles turning white with the grip he had on the steering wheel and he knew that adrenaline was shooting through his veins like heroin.
And God, did he feel good.
Pure unadulterated ecstasy coursing through him as he felt high on adrenaline, a grin resting on his face and sweat rolling down.
However, he had to stop at some point and he found himself pulling into the porch before sunrise. Stepping out of the car, he patted the hood before making his way inside. The entire estate was still silent but it was only a matter of a few hours before everything came to life.
Making his way up the stairs, he gave a nod to the guards standing in the hallway before entering the bedroom. Rosalie instantly shot up in her place on the bed at the sound of the door opening. Silently she watched him kick off his shoes before he collapsed onto the bed, his face turned away from her as she pulled up her knees to her chest. With a heavy breath, Arcangelo pulled out the duvet from beneath him before wrapping himself up in the warmth.
He knew he wasn't going to sleep, but it didn't mean he couldn't try.
With that thought, he closed his eyes momentarily before they shot open as he heard the sniffle behind him. His heart clenched at the sound as he turned to be on his back, seeing Rosalie's gaze turned away from him as she was biting down on her lip to keep from making excessive sounds. Holding his hand before her, he watched her give a startled jump before uncertainly placing her hand into his open palm.
Arcangelo pulled her to him, covering her with the duvet as he hugged her close, pressing her against his chest as she sniffled silently, and wrapping her arms around his waist as she lay in his embrace.
"It's hard." She sniffled before wiping away the tears.
"I know, baby." He told her as he caressed her arm with his fingertips, placing a kiss on the top of her head. "But it gets easier with time, and slowly, it all goes away."
"You have to talk about it sooner or later." He continued with a sigh. "Trauma changes us."
"This is the big scary truth about trauma: there is no such thing as 'getting over it'. The five stages of grief model mark universal stages in learning to accept a loss, but the reality, in fact, is much bigger: a major life disruption leaves a new normal in its wake. There is no "back to the old me". You are different now, full stop.
However, this is n
ot a wholly negative thing. Healing from trauma can also mean finding new strengths and joys. The goal of healing is not a papering-over of changes in an effort to preserve and present things as normal.
It is to acknowledge and wear your new life - scars, wisdom, and all - with courage."
"And that is recovery."
Chapter XXIX: Private Investigation
Rosalie rubbed her eyes tiredly as she turned off the television, glancing at her phone; she noticed it to be 4 a.m. After dinner, she had told Arcangelo that she wanted to watch a movie, and him being him, he didn't refuse and watched a movie with her. One movie turned into two and next thing she knew, they had watched three movies. Sighing, Rosalie turned to look at Arcangelo, about to ask him why he didn't remind her of the time.
As she turned, her gaze landed on his sleeping figure as he lay on his stomach, an arm beneath his pillow with his face turned towards her, his lips slightly parted. A small smile overcame her features as she placed a kiss on his forehead before quietly slipping out from beneath the covers in order to change out of her clothes. Pulling on her baby pink silk pajama set, she braided her hair before making her way back to Arcangelo.
Lying down beside him, she didn't bother turning off the lamp as she admired his features. The wrinkles and creases smoothening out as he looked younger, defenseless, even.
Things had been hard on him, she knew. Arcangelo hardly managed an hour or two of sleep per night, and then he was constantly there for her; day-in and day-out, he was there. If she woke up in the middle of the night, he would wake up by her distress, and stay awake with her, listening to her tell her dream and soothe her. After sacrificing his sleep, he had refused to meet anyone, go anywhere and whatever matters that needed to be dealt with were written on paper and sent to him, in his room where he was constantly in Rosalie's view. However, the past couple of days, she could see that everything was starting to wear down on him.
She could visibly see his exhaustion, he was suffering from a lot of headaches, disorientation, sore muscles and he couldn't seem to keep his eyes open for long much less bring himself to eat. He once had stopped working because a headache was so blinding that he couldn't even manage to pick up a pen. According to his doctor, he was showing symptoms of fatigue and he needed to either stop or slow down. But with him being as stubborn as he was, he dismissed the doctor's words.
Rosalie caressed his cheek as wondered if he would wake up in the middle of the night with his exhaustion.
Admiring his serenity, Rosalie's eyes were drawn to the scar around his eyes as his words rang through her head again.
She cared for him deeply, and when he told her everything, she couldn't bring herself to breathe after the revelation. For some unbeknownst reason, she didn't feel remorse that he had his father killed, a part of her was happy about that fact. However, she couldn't bring herself to understand how the order of the assassination of one person ended with the death of dozens.
It didn't make sense.
Due to that very reason, Rosalie would be leaving in the morning and conducting a little investigation of her own.
She didn't believe that Arcangelo was the cause of death for all the other guests. She could feel the wrongness of it all in her bones.
It was common knowledge that upon having received the news of the massacre, Arcangelo refused to pursue the matter any further believing it was all his doing, and day after day, she could see how he punished himself for it. His self-destructive tendencies gradually becoming more and more prominent and Rosalie knew it was only a matter of time before he did something horrible.
For that very reason, she was going to the police station in the morning, ask for the case files and conduct a private investigation of her own. Being the daughter of a retired police commissioner often had its perks.
Mentally nodding to herself, Rosalie placed a kiss on Arcangelo's forehead before snuggling next to him, closing her eyes to fall asleep.
She awoke due to the sound of her alarm, momentarily disoriented and dazed before fumbling for the device. Turning it off she glanced towards Arcangelo, seeing him still to be fast asleep and lightly snoring. A soft smile graced her lips as she sat up, rubbing her eyes before pattering across the wooden flooring and quietly opening the bedroom door.
"Good morning." She whispered quietly to Major and Gun who both were either sitting or standing against the wall.
Quickly the jumped to attention as they greeted her in return.
"Is everything alright, madam?" Major asked, noticing the time to be 6 a.m in the morning.
"Everything is alright," Rosalie assured. "I was just wondering if one of you could ask Teresa to prepare breakfast for me. Also, can you let Salv know that I have a couple of errands I want to get done with?"
"Of course, ma'am..." Both men spoke uncertain, knowing that Rosalie had gone into self-induced solitary confinement and this sudden change of waking up early and wanting breakfast and errands was all very...different, "Anything else?"
"Yes, please do not wake up Arcangelo. He hasn't slept at all over the past couple of days and I want him to get as much sleep as possible. I don't care if the world is ending and people are dying to meet him, no one will disturb him." Rosalie stated firmly, both the men glancing at each other in surprise before turning back to her. "Can I trust you two to look after him while I'm gone?"
"It is our duty to look after him," Gun spoke as he stood up straighter.
"Good."
With that said Rosalie went back inside, silently closing the door behind her before heading for a shower. Once she was done with drying her hair, Rosalie peeked into the room, seeing Arcangelo still fast asleep as she pulled on a plain navy blue pencil skirt dress with a matching blazer on top. Grabbing her bag and shoes, Rosalie tiptoed out of the closet, quickly going over to Arcangelo, placing a kiss on his temple before scurrying out the room.
The door closed behind her with a distinctive click. Letting out a relieved exhale, she braced herself against the wall before pulling on a pair of black platform pencil heels. Brushing her hair out of her face, she greeted Salv with a smile as he nodded back at her, standing in a black two-piece suit with his hands folded before him.
"Breakfast is set for you downstairs." He informed her with a gentle bow of his head.
"Great, I'm famished."
Her heels clicked against the marble flooring of the estate before she went and settled down in the dining room. Practically scarfing down her breakfast, Rosalie quickly drank her coffee before urging Salvatore to get going.
"Where are we heading, madam?" Salv asked as they both got buckled into the Range Rover.
"Tuscany Police Station,"
The look of surprise on his expression was evident, but he didn't dare question his boss's girlfriend. Instead, he put the gear into the drive before making his way to the station.
Rosalie was very fidgety throughout the car-ride there and her mind conjured up various scenarios of what she would discover. But she had made up her mind that she would pull through with this. There would be some form of empirical proof indicating if people died due to Arcangelo or if there was an uncovered truth behind the whole massacre.
She knew that if she was proven right, she would bring the truth into the light, give Arcangelo the closure he needed. But if she was wrong, and he was the cause behind it all, she would keep the information to herself.
She knew what needed to be done.
Just as she had been going over the plan in her mind, the car came to a halt. Inhaling deeply, Rosalie stepped out of the car and made her way to the police station, Salv close behind. Upon her entrance, men turned to watch in amusement as she made her way through the office and towards what she assumed to be the reception.
"Can I help you?" The man behind the desk asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Yes, I am here to review the files of the King's Auction Massacre in 04'," Rosalie stated confidently, the man looking unperturbed.
"That trail ran
cold a long time ago, sweetheart." The man told her.
"I am here to review the information and that is what I'll do."
"And who are you again?"
"Rosalie Allegro." She informed, standing straight before him. "Commissioner Allegro's daughter,"
"Right, and I'm the President of England." The man chortled sarcastically.
"Actually, England is an aristocratic state and is therefore ruled by Royalty, so it isn't possible for you to be a president." Rosalie retorted, retrieving her phone. "And do you need me to make a call in order to receive the files on a 4-year-old cold case or will we do fine without it?"
The man glared at her from behind his coffee mug, staring at the phone in her hand before looking back at the raised eyebrow Rosalie was giving him. Grumbling under his breath, he marched into a room and disappeared behind a wall. He returned 5 minutes later with a stack of files, plopping them onto the counter before taking a step back.
"You can't take them out of the vicinity without authorization." The man growled at her. "So you better sit where I can see you."
"I know standard police protocol, officer," Rosalie stated with a smirk as Salv helped her take the files to a table in the back.
Settling down, Rosalie asked Salvatore to help her through the files, asking him to go through half the stack as she went through the other half, asking him to look through the report and note down the cause of death for each person.
They had reviewed more than an hour the files in silence, going over the list of guest and their cause of death before a strangled sound escaped Salvatore, his gaze on the file in his hand before he looked back at Rosalie with wide eyes.
"Are you out of your mind?" He hissed, ignoring the fact that this was his boss's girlfriend. "This is the death report of Antonio Regnante, Boss's father, his predecessor? What the fuck is all this?"