Rebecca Downhill (Becca) has known nothing in her life but a strict father who is involved in businesses with the Italian mafia in NY, an absent mother who has taught her to be obedient and fulfill her duties towards the family, and a twelve years o...
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I have a hunch on what papa is after, but I need to make sure and maybe it has nothing to do with Becks, but still, I can't risk anything.
I already have Lucas to take her away from, my father is just an extra worry.
My chest is lightly pressed by the weight of her body and her breathing is regular now, caressing my skin. She has fallen asleep in my arms, sobbing.
Has this woman ever smiled, or laughed, in her life? I'm wondering.
My phone is still buzzing in my hand with the call from papa, but I don't answer, nor put it down on the nightstand next to the bed.
I wouldn't want it to become noisy and wake her up.
She's peacefully sleeping on top of me and it's for the first time her body is relaxed and molding on mine, like a silk fabric embracing my skin.
The call stops and I can finally put the phone away.
With my left arm, I'm holding Becks firmly on me and with my now free right hand, I brush aside from her face a few rebel strands of her black, caressing her hair and her cheeks and sucking in her scent.
While I'm blissfully enjoying my moment of peace and adoration having Becks in my arms my phone buzzes again with a message and I startle, staring at her to see if the sound has woken her up.
I don't give a shit about who sent that message, all I care about is that Becks has as much rest as she needs.
She stirs in her sleep with a whimper and her eyebrows frown while I stop breathing as if I'm a kid caught on doing something he shouldn't do.
I tighten my grip around her torso and bring her up softly, till my lips reach her forehead where I place a velvety kiss.
She jumps from my arms and starts checking her arms and her clothes, sobbing in a growing state of horror.
"No... no...," she is whispering before shouting and yelling in what seems to be a reliving of the shooting spree of earlier today.
Her tumult increases by the second and I just can't sit and watch silently her struggle without doing something, although I want her to release all her fears and anger.
I grab firmly her arms and bring her back to my chest, pressing her firmly and paying attention to her every move while I keep my grip fairly strong, and put some extra effort to keep her steady.
I'm afraid I'm going to hurt her because she's struggling in my arms like fighting for her dear life. I would die before hurting her.
I didn't lose my hold till I felt her muscles relaxing and her body weight falling back on my chest.
She's breathing heavily and frantic as I whisper reassuring words in her ear, reminding her that she's safe, that I'll never allow anything to happen to her, that nothing will touch her from now on. She calms down after a while and lets herself limp on me as I slowly lean against the headboard of the bed, with her in my arms.
