The first time it happened, Capri thought it was just bad luck.
The second time someone attempted to kidnap her, she thought it was just a coincidence.
But when it happened again, she knows for sure someone is actively trying to get to her. Not kn...
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Capri
I entered the room to find Lorenzo lying down on one of those hospital beds, wearing what looked like a t-shirt and hospital issued pajama pants. He had one arm covering his eyes, while his legs bent, crisscrossing with each other. He looks deep in thought.
His head turned to face me once he heard the door, a big smile of relief etched on his face.
I look around the room trying to figure out where to sit and can only see a two seater sofa on the far wall.
"Capri," he calls to me. "Come here." He motioned for me with his finger.
I walk closer, wondering if I should just stand next to his bed.
"Get in." He scoots a little to the side, giving me room to slide into the single size bed.
"No! The bed's too small Lorenzo." I objected.
"Get your cute butt in here miamore. I don't want to crane my neck every time I want to talk to you."
I know it was a lame excuse but a small part of me did want to snuggle close to him. I climb in, grunting my objections while secretly feeling gleeful to be in the same bed.
His hand wraps itself around my waist and pulls me closer. I had expected him to pull away after and was delighted when he let his hand rest where it was.
It had been quite a hectic twenty four hours and this bubble of peace that we now enjoy feels so fitting after all the ordeal that had transpired.
I had prepared myself to accept his death. To accept that I would not see him again, or be able to talk to him again, or simply think of him without replaying that horrific moment when he lay lifeless in my arms. So much so that finding him alive and well felt like some kind of otherworldly experience.
I still can't quite believe that Lorenzo is alive and that I hadn't lost him for good. I have to repeat the words over and over again in my head just to remind myself that this is real. Lorenzo is alive. He is alive. He's alive and is right in front of me.
I had cried for him. I produce actual big fat tears, mourning for his loss. I even went a bit psycho just because of him. Hell, I still can't believe I had actually killed for him.
My fingers reach out to trace his jaw as if trying to be sure that this Lorenzo isn't just a figment of my imagination. Yup, he's real. I can feel the slight stubble on his chin. The heat he emanates proves that I'm not looking into the eyes of a corpse. He's really allright. He's not dead. Lorenzo is alive and he's lying next to me.
My contented smile drops a little when the memory of Lorenzo arriving at the ball with another woman clinging to his arm suddenly hits me. How did I ever let myself be so affected by someone like him?
I knew from the start that he was a player. He's only good for a bit of fun and yet, I somehow let myself be consumed by him. Even his death affected me so severely that I was ready to throw everything away just for him.
