Diavolo

xviii

SILVIO

"Goddamn it." I skipped over the last two steps and rushed over to where she was sitting on the couch. My heart was banging a consistent rhythm inside my chest of anxiety and anticipation building up but never seeming to explode into a red cloud of catharsis.

A breath of relief escaped me when I saw her—her face was the first thing that caught my attention. She was fine, she wasn't hurt, or touched in any way shape for form. I took a minute to examine her, my gaze moving from the strands of curly hair on her head to her black heels.

She was trembling, her whole body shaking with fear and possibly something more. I had never seen her like this. So fragile, breakable and soft in my arms.

I closed the distance between us not giving a second thought about it, wrapping my arms around her shoulders and held on to her tightly, never wanting to let go. I rested my chin on top of her head, and hid my face into her hair and inhaled. Existed.

"Breathe for me." I whispered, my voice soft and quiet in a way that always seemed to appear whenever I spoke to her. 

        It didn't last for too long before she pulled away from me, emotionally and physically. I took her by the arm gently, sat her down on the couch and forcefully took her phone away from her.

Anger boiled through my body in a fizzle of hot red liquid as I read the message and the pictures which accompanied them. My jaw tightened, chest pained as my gaze hovered over the most concerning picture of them all.

Whoever the fuck was following her had gotten so close he'd managed to capture a picture of her body, and his hand was in the frame, reaching forward almost like he was about to touch her but he didn't.

        I knew what this meant.

Whoever this was knew her. The person was close enough to be able to get within a distance to acquire pictures but the horror of not knowing what to expect whenever you left your house was the most terrifying thing ever.

I forwarded the message to Beast from her phone with the caption, 'I want this handled' and I knew he didn't have to guess who was the sender, and then I turned to Presley. My Presley.

I wanted to hold and comfort her, if she would have me do so. I knew that there were people in this world who didn't like being comforted or held whenever they were distressed, they preferred space. I was one of those.

I gazed at her face, and the way she held that stoic expression like nothing had happened. If I hadn't heard her scream earlier, I would have simply assumed she was giving me the silent treatment but she wasn't.

This was her coping mechanism. She was going to deny anything was wrong and let it build up until it consumed her into a rage of anxiety and fear.

I wouldn't let it get that far this time.

"Presley." I called her name out, reaching out to grab her by the elbow but she shifted to the side, silently demanding for me not to touch her.

Even if I wanted to respect her boundaries about space, all that went to shit the minute I tasted her. Her boundaries were now mine, all the fucking lines were crossed and twisted with each other.

I reached out once again, tightening my hold on her elbow despite her sounds of frustration and pulled her towards me.

She turned her face to the opposite way facing towards the door, ready to flee away from me but I placed a hand on her waist and hefted her against my body. Placed her ass on my lap and curled her beautiful, conflicted face in my grip.