Nightswan

Chapter 41

Author's Note: This is the LAST chapter before the epilogue!  WE MADE IT!

- Alessio -

He didn't feel anything but tired. He hadn't slept well since he'd come home from the hospital. Images of Mallory and Vasilisa kept appearing in his mind's eye. Her already pale skin deathly white. His teeth almost like fangs, his tongue like a snake's, licking at her neck. He couldn't look at Vasi without seeing Mallory. He didn't blame her for not wanting anything to do with men. He didn't want to torture her further, and Alessio definitely did not want to make her afraid. More afraid than she already was. Every time she glanced his way, he could see it in her eyes.

Now that he was mostly recovered from his surgery, he'd gone back to work at Marcon Industries. The police had kept his involvement in destruction of the Flight and Total Eclipse quiet, so Alessio still kept his job. Somehow. He didn't tell his boss any of the details of his surgery, just that it was unexpected and that he was doing far better. He left early in the morning—before Vasilisa awoke—and he didn't arrive home until long after she had gone to sleep. Alessio was doing everything he could to avoid seeing her. Maybe that wasn't the right way to go about doing this, but Alessio didn't know what else to do.

It hurt him to see her. Perhaps that was selfish, but it was the truth. He wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her tight. He wanted to kiss away her worries and fears. She didn't need that, though. She needed her space so she could recover, and Alessio swallowing her in affection wouldn't help her. If anything, it would only make things worse. From what Thaddeus told him of his experiences with Liliana, it took time. He didn't know Liliana's entire story, just that she had been in an abusive relationship before Thaddeus and that she had major trust issues. If Vasilisa was anything like her aunt, Alessio needed to be patient.

But Vasilisa had been completely pure prior to Mallory. Or so Alessio suspected. He didn't know what she did with Hugh, but with how afraid she'd been on their wedding night...Hugh hadn't slept with her. She thought she had loved Hugh, so maybe her response would've been different to him. Mallory, though...no, Vasilisa had never asked for his contact. Vasi had experienced the cruelty of the world too much in her twenty-two years. Twenty two! He was twenty-eight. Their birthdays had come and gone, and they hadn't even really celebrated them. She'd tried to make him a cake, and he'd bought her a cupcake, but that was the extent of their celebrations.

He should've done something more for her. Alessio hadn't told her he loved her because he didn't want to scare her—not after the false professions of love Hugh had told her—and now was it even worse? Would the term mean anything to her, or would it just...cause her to go deeper into an abyss of depression and terror?

Alessio rubbed behind the back of his neck then moved to his forehead. He was getting a headache, but he didn't want to go home yet. Vasi would definitely still be awake, and he didn't want to see her. He didn't trust himself around her. The only way he knew to comfort her was to touch her—words were never his love language—and touching was off limits. Alessio took a deep breath and released it slowly.

A knock on his door prompted him to look up from his paperwork.

"Don't push yourself too hard, Alessio," his supervisor said. "You're one of my best team members. Can't have you running yourself to the ground."

"I'm sorry, sir. I'm trying to get this done."

"The deadline isn't for another month."

"Call me an overachiever." Alessio offered him a tepid smile.

"You had a major surgery. Go home."

"I really am fine, sir," Alessio said.

"How many times do I have to tell you that you don't have to call me 'sir?' 'Phil' is fine." The older man leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms. He had hair the color of coffee that he kept carefully trimmed. A clean-shaven face. Bright green eyes were framed by rosy cheeks and black-rimmed glasses. He was an older gentleman, but he didn't look it. He wore a tailored navy suit with a striped tie, and a gold watch decorated his left wrist.