[𝗖𝗢𝗠𝗣𝗟𝗘𝗧𝗘𝗗]☕︎
♔︎#1 in Mafialove [3 Feb 23]
♔︎#1 in Newadult [2 June 23]
♔︎#1 in Affection [15 Sep. 22]
♔︎#2 in Eroticromance [16 April 23]
♔︎#3 in Mafiaboss [28 May 23]
♔︎#20 in Power [1 July 23]
DAVIDE was arrogant, the worst nightmare, sh...
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Author's pov:-
His hands, stained with blood, were tightly clenched, the once pristine white shirt now a canvas of dried, dark red. His hair, disheveled and tangled, framed a face that remained expressionless as he stared out the hospital window. Despite being shot in the left shoulder during a mission, the stoic facade never wavered.
Trembling hands betrayed a mixture of fear and the occasional intimidating glances from Don Davide. The air in the hospital room was thick with tension as the injured man sat on a chair, fully aware that one wrong move could lead to a lifeless body on the floor, courtesy of Don Davide's ruthless commands. The doctor diligently worked to extract the bullet, each movement meticulous to alleviate the pain.
Averting his gaze from the window, he watched his brother Carlo pacing the room, animatedly engaged in a loud and aggressive phone conversation. The intensity of Carlo's emotions matched the gravity of the situation. Once the call ended, Carlo shifted his attention to Davide, his eyes scanning the wounded figure. A solemn sigh escaped him, and he nodded in Davide's direction, a silent reassurance that "everything's going to be alright." In response, Davide managed a small, albeit pained, smile.
As the doctor continued his work, memories of the previous night's conversation with Mattia flooded Davide's mind. The gravity of their words, the shared vulnerability, and the deep connection they held lingered in the room. Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted, and Davide's expression turned serious, the weight of his thoughts etched onto his face. The lines of duty, loyalty, and love blurred in the dimly lit hospital cabin, and for a moment, the wounded man found solace in the quiet acknowledgment that, despite the current ordeal, some things were worth fighting for.
**************************************
Flashback:-
Davide's Pov:-
I continued typing, my fingers moving across the keyboard as I absorbed her request. "Why?" I inquired, glancing at her over my laptop. Mattia shifted uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact, and mumbled something about it being a thoughtful gesture. I raised an eyebrow at her cryptic response, my curiosity piqued.
Curiosity often led me to inquire more, and this time was no exception. "Why would you want to give Dario a bouquet on his birthday?" I pressed, my tone firm yet inquisitive. Mattia hesitated, her fingers nervously tracing the edges of her necklace. After a moment, she finally spoke, her words rushed, "I just... thought it would be nice. You know, to express goodwill or something."
I leaned back in my chair, studying her carefully. There was something more beneath the surface, a hidden motive or emotion that she wasn't fully revealing. I decided to probe further, "Is there something more to this, Mattia?" She sighed, her gaze dropping, and her next words caught me off guard.
"Dario doesn't have anyone else, Davide. He needs someone, especially on his birthday." The vulnerability in her voice struck a chord within me. I sighed, momentarily setting aside my work, and considered her request in a new light.
"Alright," I finally agreed, "I'll get you the roses, but you owe me an explanation later." Mattia's eyes lit up with gratitude, and she nodded in acknowledgment. I couldn't ignore the softness in my heart as I watched her leave, her shoulders visibly lighter.
The next day, I found myself in a flower shop, choosing the finest red roses for Mattia's peculiar request. I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this story, and a sense of responsibility lingered in my thoughts. As I carried the bouquet, I couldn't help but reflect on the unexpected turns life took, leading me to buy roses for a man who, by all accounts, didn't need or want them.
Upon returning home, I handed Mattia the bouquet. She accepted it with a quiet thank you, her eyes reflecting a mix of emotions. "You never did explain why," I reminded her, my curiosity still lingering.
She sighed, hesitating before offering a glimpse into her thoughts. "Sometimes, Davide, a simple gesture can bridge gaps and heal wounds. Even someone like Dario deserves a moment of kindness on his birthday, even if it comes from an unexpected source."
Her words lingered in the air leaving me alone with my thoughts. In that quiet moment, surrounded by the scent of fresh roses, I pondered the complexities of relationships and the unexpected ways in which they intertwine, just like the petals of those red roses I had reluctantly bought.
"Why would you want to give roses to someone who's betrayed and hurt you?" I questioned once more, my disbelief evident in my voice.
As Mattia struggled to find the right words, the realization hit me like a wave of anger. "You're still letting him in, after everything he's done?" The sheer absurdity of the situation fueled my frustration.
Unable to contain the surge of emotions, I rose abruptly from the bed, my anger escalating. The laptop, a casualty of my mounting rage, met its demise against the wall, shattering into irreparable fragments.
My eyes bore into her trembling form, a mixture of disappointment and fury in my gaze. "That's it," I muttered under my breath, the weight of betrayal and frustration weighing heavily on my shoulders.
In that charged moment, silence hung in the air, broken only by the remnants of the laptop scattered across the floor. Mattia's startled expression mirrored my own internal turmoil. The room, once a haven of productivity, now crackled with the tension of unspoken truths and unresolved conflicts.
