♥ Chapter 51♥

Thursday

6:10 PM - Warehouse - Portevecchio

I find Cezar and Dante waiting for me outside, next to the car. The headache that started bothering me is becoming a constant presence, and the lack of sleep only intensifies it.

"Let's go," I say, walking past them and heading towards the car.

Dante opens the door for me, and I get in, sitting in the back seat. My body relaxes a little as I settle in, though the headache persists. Cezar takes his place next to the driver, and Dante settles into the passenger seat.

"Where to, sir?" Dante asks, looking at me through the rearview mirror.

"Home. I need a shower," I reply, crossing my legs and trying to ignore the throbbing pain in my head.

Dante nods and starts the car. The engine purrs softly as he begins to drive back to the mansion. I notice Cezar and Dante exchanging discreet glances; these two don’t know how to be subtle.

"What is it? Just tell me," I ask, trying to divert the focus from my headache and force a conversation.

"I was thinking of stopping by the armory to replenish our ammunition stock," Cezar says, breaking the silence.

"Alright, do that tomorrow," I order, with little interest.

"Understood, sir." Cezar writes something down in his notebook.

"And what’s the status of the drug portfolio operations?" I ask, turning my attention to Dante.

"Shipments are on schedule, sir. The last batch was sent south, and the next one is scheduled for next week. We are preparing a new load of heroin and ecstasy," Dante responds, his voice neutral and professional.

"Good. Make sure the transport is secure and that no shipments are diverted or stolen. If there’s any problem, you know what to do," I say firmly.

"Yes, sir." He nods, keeping his gaze fixed on the road.

The car finally arrives at the mansion. Dante parks carefully, and Cezar opens the door for me.

"We’ve arrived, sir," Cezar says, with his usual deference.

I get out of the car, and Dante and Cezar follow me, both with attentive expressions, as we move towards the imposing entrance of the mansion. The headache pulses harder and harder, as if feeding off my exhaustion. I urgently need a shower.

"I’m going to rest. Keep watch," I order, without looking at them.

"Yes, sir. Have a good rest," they respond in unison, with respectful reverence.

I walk into the mansion and see Diana approaching, her expression as serene and obedient as ever.

"Sir, would you like something to eat?" she asks, while making a deep bow.

"No. I just need a shower and some rest," I reply, without stopping, as I head towards my room.

As soon as I enter my refuge, memories of Isabella invade my mind with painful intensity. I might be losing my sanity, but I can still almost feel, like a ghost, her delicious scent.

I take off my clothes with silent anger, tossing them carelessly around the room. The desire for a shower becomes almost obsessive. I enter the bathroom, move into the shower stall, and turn on the water. I feel a momentary relief as the hot water starts flowing over me, as if its stream could wash away not only my body but also the headache that consumes me.

I close my eyes and allow myself a sigh of relief, a brief moment of peace. But even under the comforting spray of the water, I cannot escape the cruel thought that haunts me: what I truly need is her. My queen. Her absence becomes an unbearable weight on my shoulders, and reality hits me with a brutal blow: I’m going crazy for her, and it hasn’t even been three days since I last saw her.

It’s as if the withdrawal from her presence tortures me, an insatiable hunger that devours every thought and every desire. Since the moment she surrendered to me, since I tasted the paradise of having her by my side, I can only think of having her presence back. I want her lying next to me in bed, nestled in my arms.

I miss her kisses, the warmth of her body, the scent that seemed like an extension of her essence. The urgency to hear her voice, to feel her whisper in my ears, is an almost physical need, a desperate yearning that threatens to consume me.

I quickly get out of the shower; I urgently need to hear her voice. I grab a towel and wrap it around my waist. I walk out of the bathroom and head towards my phone, dialing her number after unlocking it.

Calling… Calling…

"A-Alessio?" She speaks, the hesitation in her voice clear and palpable.

"Why did you stutter, my precious?" I ask.

I close my eyes for a moment, a small relief washes over me just hearing her sweet and familiar voice.

"It’s just that I was talking with my friends when the phone rang," she explains, her voice a bit muffled, as if she’s in a busy environment.

I smile to myself, an involuntary gesture upon hearing the sound of her voice.

"I see. I just wanted to hear your voice. I’m looking forward to Saturday; I want to see you," I say.

"Ah… A-About that…" Her voice wavers, a sign that something is wrong.

I stare at the wall, anger starting to form a dark cloud inside me.

"Tell me. What happened?" My voice comes out harsher than I intended, a shadow of coldness in each word.

On the other end of the line, I hear a deep sigh, an attempt to compose herself.

"W-We… We won’t be able to see each other for a while… B-Because I’m going to be very busy," her voice trembles.

I feel the tension rise, the grip on my phone tightening.

"What? How?" I ask, my voice colder with each word.

She seems to hesitate before answering.

"I-I’ll have to stay late at work… And… And I’ll also start working on weekends," her voice is almost a whisper.

"For how long?" The word comes out of my lips like a command, demanding an answer.

"What? I didn’t understand," she seems confused.

"How long won’t we be able to see each other?" My voice is firm, my impatience evident.

"A-Ah… Two weeks?" Her answer is hesitant, as if she fears my reaction.

"Is that a question or a statement, Isabella?" My tone becomes colder, the control starting to slip.

"A-A-A statement… I’ll see you later, Alessio… And please, don’t send anyone to watch me," she pleads, her voice a thread of desperation.

The line falls into a deadly silence, and before I can respond, she has already hung up.

"Two weeks… I won’t see her for two weeks," I mutter to myself, my voice heavy with frustration and anger.

The anger erupts inside me like an uncontrollable fire. Without thinking, I grip the phone so tightly that the plastic cracks and breaks, scattering small fragments across the floor.

I really hope you’re not cheating on me, my precious. Because if that’s true, my ability to control myself will be crushed by fury. Fine, I’ll wait for two weeks, but know that during this time, my rage will grow like a storm about to break.

I walk to the closet, ignoring her clothes. With a firm movement, I put on a dark suit, a pair of dark dress shoes, and adjust the watch on my wrist with a brusque gesture. I apply some cologne, the penetrating aroma trying to mask the tension in the air, and arrange my hair, pulling it back with calculated precision.

I leave the closet, stepping over the old broken phone on the floor without a glance of regret, and proceed down the hallway, which now seems darker and more oppressive than ever. I descend the stairs with firm steps, each movement laden with a cold and relentless determination, until I reach the exit where I find Dante, Saulo, and Cezar.

"Let’s go to the casino," my voice comes out with a chilling and cutting tone, and the impact of my command makes everyone shrink, suddenly aware that something is deeply wrong, though no one dares to say a word. They simply follow my order, in a silence heavy with apprehension.