Sinful Addiction

VI

        ELENA CASSANO

        I couldn't sleep. The sound of his familiar voice lurched in the dark and tore through my heart. Something terrible I could see it grinning at me. Eyes deep like blackness. Dark like catastrophe.

Even in pitch blackness, all I could do was sit tight until my body eventually got used to the dark.

Inhaling a sharp breath, I twisted my body to the other side of the bed and flipped the lamp light on. I can't do it.

My hand against my beating heart, the heavy rise and fall of my chest as I struggled to contain my rushed breaths.

The same deep voice haunting me from ten years ago returned. My sleepy gaze took in the state of the bedroom; Messy, filled with red, and Chanel bags sitting on the floor from my latest shopping spree which was earlier this afternoon.

The sound of the door creaking made my heart drop into my stomach, and I let out a sharp yelp before clutching the sheets around my body. Elena Cassano feared the dark. Or perhaps scared of the monsters lurking in the dark.

Deciding I wasn't going to stay in my room anymore, I stepped out into the hallway and out of the comfort of my room.

The lacy straps of the silk nightgown slipped from my shoulder; long dark hair unfettered and tumbling over my bare shoulders.

One stair at a time, I shuddered every time I felt the cold chill of the air and tugged the silk robe around my waist. If Papà or Mamma caught me right now, sneaking around like a mouse in the middle of the night, I would definitely be in trouble. Especially while dressed like this but what else was I supposed to wear to sleep?

Braless and barefoot, it was the perfect I-can't-sleep-and-I-need-a-distraction look.

I was only halfway into the kitchen before I heard a loud slam, making me jump to my feet. I let out a scream feeling my heartrate accelerate from the shadow that came out of nowhere.

A chill ran down my spine as I staggered closer, towards the tall figure standing in the middle of the kitchen. It wasn't Alessio. However strange, I knew the sound of his footsteps, the shape of his body and the man in front of me wasn't him.

Another loud slam flooded the kitchen followed by a constant pounding prickling my ear, and I froze, rooted by the table and contemplating running the other way.

I never should have left my room in the middle of the night because of a fucking nightmare.

The man turned sideways to me, a lit cigarette handing from his lips, his dark hair parted to the side, and hiding half of the jagged scar on his cheek.

The thick glasses were covering his face, but I knew those icy eyes anywhere. Eyes, the color of the midwinter sky. I never realized blue could be such hot fire until I saw his eyes.

His gravelly voice broke through the night silence as we stared at each other. "Elena."

I threw a glare over my shoulder when I felt his stare. My frown deepened and I turned around pretending as if he wasn't there.

"I understand." He murmured into the phone; his dark gaze instantly fixated on the imprint of jewelry evident through the thin nightgown. My nipple piercing. His eyes remained on me though he didn't say anything else.

He swirled the glass of scotch, the sound of the ice clinking around the liquid before he downed the drink. "Ya slushayu tebya." An accent. The bastard had an accent.