PENTHOUSE 521

twenty-eight | a dawning understanding

CATALINA
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My eyelids fluttered open slowly before I scanned the room I was in. It was a bedroom. Large and decorated with neutral furnishings. Blinds allowed for some sunlight to trickle through. The sun rays were the only splash of color save for Dorian's painting of a man's hands playing a grand piano.

Wait, how could that be? She sold the piece weeks ago.

My eyes then landed on the figure sleeping on a wingback chair in the corner of the room.

Niccolò.

He looked nearly the same as yesterday, still wearing a light blue dress shirt and white pants. His eyes blissfully closed shut as his chest rose with soft breaths, and his muscular arms lazily rested against the armrests. Although, unlike Niccolò's usual put-together self, his thick black hair was ruffled and had dark circles under his eyes. He must've been awake for hours before finally closing them.

But how could that be?

My cheeks flamed, recalling our last conversation. It was more tense than needed, and I had said so many awful things, but why was Niccolò here?

And where were we?

It seems like the answer to my questions slowly started to reveal themselves as there was a small, medical device attached to my pointer finger. Following the device's wiring, I saw it was connected to a patient monitor.

My vitals were displayed by multi-colored lines and numbers in green, red, yellow, orange, magenta, white, and blue on the screen as steady beats punctuated the silence every so often. I couldn't help but look at the monitor, trying to gain an understanding of what it all meant.

"Catalina."

His voice broke my concentration and brought my attention back to him. "Good morning. I'm so glad you've awakened," Niccolò said hoarsely, his voice still clung to sleep as the corners of his lips flinched the slightest upward in a small smile.

The sight made my heart clench. Had he slept in the same room as me to keep an eye on me in my current condition? Even though the chair looked plush, sleeping in an upright position like that for hours certainly wouldn't be the easiest thing to do.

"Good morning. Had you slept here? It must've been uncomfortable."

"Yes. And admittedly, it was a minor inconvenience to my neck, but nothing intolerable." Niccolò's smile grew a fraction further as stretched his arms. His motions caused his shirt to ripple as his muscles pressed against the fabric's confines.

I had to bury the urge to bite down on my bottom lip or compliment him about how good he looked. Niccolò could be moderately infuriating, but he captivated my attention like no other man could even when he wasn't looking his sharpest.

But I had to focus on the million questions that raced through my mind and couldn't give way to temptation.

Not now.

A beat of silence stretched before I found myself speaking. "What happened?"

He rose to his feet and brought his chair next to my bedside and took a seat. "You were attacked." Niccolò's expression shifted, his voice adopting a somber tone. "The attacker ended up stabbing you in the abdomen during the altercation."