Silk & Steel: A Mafia Romance | ENGLOT

Chapter 24: The Plague

Contessa's POV:

The insistent pounding on my skull felt like a miniature jackhammer working its way through my brain. Every sliver of sunlight filtering through the blinds was a personal attack, and the mere thought of moving sent a wave of nausea washing over me. A monumental mistake, I groaned internally, replaying the events of the previous night with a cringe.

"Rough morning, huh?" Tiffany's voice, laced with amusement, cut through the fog in my head. I cracked open one eye to see her leaning against the doorway, a knowing smirk plastered on her face.

"Ugh," I mumbled, burying my head further under the covers. There was no point in denying the obvious.

"So," Tiffany drawled, her voice dripping with faux innocence, "care to enlighten me on why the esteemed Contessa Eleanor Darby sounds like a strangled cat?"

A quick glance at the clock confirmed my worst fears – it was late, much later than I usually allowed myself to sleep in. I didn't answer, groaning louder instead and diving under the covers.

"Strong tea or greasy breakfast?" she offered, her voice laced with amusement.

"Both," I croaked, the mere thought of food churning my stomach.

Tiffany chuckled, and I could practically hear her shaking her head. "Spill it, Contessa. What shenanigans did you get yourself into last night?"

There was no point denying it – the evidence was etched on my face in the form of dark circles and a throbbing headache. So, I recounted the events of the previous evening, from the trip to the orphanage to the late-night conversation with Wyvern in her office.

"We...we had a drink after visiting the orphanage. Just talking, nothing more."

Tiffany's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "A drink with Wyvern? Now that's a story I wouldn't have expected."

I winced at the mention of Wyvern's name. The memory of the almost-kiss sent a jolt through me, along with a surge of awkwardness. The idea of facing her now, after the emotional vulnerability of the previous night, filled me with a dread that rivaled my throbbing headache.

"It's not what you think" I mumbled, my voice thick and scratchy, avoiding her gaze.

"Uh-huh," Tiffany replied, a sly smile playing on her lips. "Then why are you avoiding eye contact like you just confessed your undying love for kale?"

I groaned, burying my face back into the pillow, "Just... leave me alone for a while, please?" I pleaded, burying my head further under the pillow.

"Alright, alright," Tiffany chuckled. "I'm gonna go get you some food and tea, but if you need anything else, don't hesitate to call the hangover fairy – also known as your awesome bestfriend."

With that, she closed the door, leaving me to wallow in my self-inflicted misery.

...

The thought of facing Wyvern after everything, the shy touches, the near-kiss, and the unspoken tension, filled me with a paralyzing awkwardness. I spent the rest of the morning strategically avoiding the common areas, inventing errands and chores to keep me stuck inside the infirmary. But the thought of deliberately evading Wyvern only amplified my self-consciousness.

By lunchtime, my stomach was growling in protest, and my carefully constructed avoidance plan was starting to crumble. Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself for the inevitable encounter and headed out of my room.

The base was eerily quiet. I peeked into the gym, then the kitchen, but there was no sign of Wyvern. A sliver of relief washed over me, momentarily quelling the knot of anxiety in my stomach. Maybe, just maybe, I could manage to avoid her entirely today.