Stuck | 18+

Chapter 52

The muffled music from the golden French era buzzed in Frantino mansion, the romantic melody sharply contrasting the stretched atmosphere an hour ago. 

Since the guests did not belong too far from mafia, they were fairly accustomed to such happenings. It had taken hardly fifteen minutes for the guests to move on from their don punching the blood out of his father in law. Even though the hushed whispers spread like fire, no one pellucidly knew what the man had said to deserve Don's beating.  Whatever it was, they had overlooked the incident for now, postponing the gossip sessions to the next meetings. 

Now that the room bustled with music, many seized their partners, making a room in the center of the hall to softly sway. The chandelier above completed the beautiful frame for couples.

Tara watched the love birds from her table, chewing on her crunchy salted Papad, pretending to enjoy when she could all but think about Donavan, the flash of possessiveness in his forest green eyes. The almost invisible glimpse of hurt. She did not want to think about it, unwilling to jump on the very obvious conclusion. It scared her, of all the things she was afraid of, this was the obscenest. 

She watched from distance as he discussed something with Nicolas Auclair, his eyes intently watching as Don gesticulated fascinatingly, as if explaining a map, so engrossed to notice her gaze on him. She focused back on her plate, assuming he must be discussing their plan. If she wasn't wrong, the final deal with Auclairs was about to commence within the coming week, finally wrapping up their work in Paris. 

She realised how she had spent as much time in Paris as she had in Italy. Paris had been strangely special, at least if she was to look over her married life, Paris had speedily changed the equations. 

She rested her hand on her chin, leaning forward. A soft smile played on her lips as she watched the aged Auclair couple taking the centre of the platform, making elegant moves, covering the stage with their classic steps. 

"Dance with me" a familiar deep voice asked, forwarding his hand for her to take. She looked up to find her handsome husband, his eyes not exactly cheery but still eager to spend time with her. 

"No...I...I can't dance" She said already feeling exhausted, veneering the fact that she was still a bit upset about the scene he had created. 

"I didn't ask if you can." His tone didn't appear sugary as his hand still remained stretched, patiently waiting. 

She failed to notice the edge to his self-restraint, maintaining her posture. 

"But I have neve-" Her voice was cut with the gasp as he seized her wrist pulling her up, not forcefully but not gently either. She tumbled in his arms, softly colliding with his chest, inhaling his scent. She knew even in the hoary age of death, she wouldn't forget his smell, it had been too viscerally imprinted in her senses to ever be forgotten. 

He led her forward, not listening to her blabber. Everyone's gaze followed as Don pulled his wife in the center, holding her in his arms. Her cheeks tinted red as she felt his hold on her waist, briskly pulling her forward, making their noses touch. Her hand immediately flew to his shoulder, maintaining their distance but as his lips moved faster, his lips touched hers in a soft peck. 

"People are watching" she whisper yelled pushing his shoulder lightly, already conscious of the smiling gazes. 

"Let them" his hoarse voice whispered, yet again tracing her lips for a peck. 

"What is wrong with you?" she pressed, not understanding his vicious drive, her futile attempts on his shoulders going in vain. 

"Everything" he mumbled, watching her closely, noticing the tinted colour of her cheeks, the dilated exasperation of her pupils. 

In no time she realised they were swaying on soft beats, in perfect rhythms with others. The lights had been faded for the vibe as one by one, everyone shifted to the floor. She had laid her head on his chest, listening to his heart as he took the responsibility of her weight. 

"When are we going to Italy?" She asked, curious to know for how long was this her home. 

"You seem to be in a hurry" he mused, softly running his thumb back and forth on her waist.

"No, I like it in here" she replied.

"Really?" he wondered, knowing nothing positive of sorts had happened here.

" Yeah, I like Paris" she mumbled, unintentionally caressing his coat with her fingers, feeling the texture of expensive fabric. 

"Do you like me"

He didn't know why he had said that, but words had already left before he could have held them back. 

Her head flew from his chest, instantly meeting his eyes, stunned at his question. He watched her intently, devouring the shock as it plastered her face. He pushed a lose strand of hair behind her ear, the habit he had acquired over time.

"Tara..." he moaned as if in pain, preparing her for his expression of raw emotions. Never had he imagined feeling so wounded for a woman, and yet he had taken the shot right in his heart, embracing it with all his worth. He knew, he couldn't keep it inside anymore, the suffering was too much to be endured alone. 

"I don't know how you tell you this..." he mumbled, hesitant to say something for once, enlivening all the emotions from his wretched wretched heart. 

She watched bewildered, brimming her orbs with tears as she saw what she had never prepared herself to see. 

"You think you are there...outside my body, but you are not" he paused, taking a deep breathe, taking her hand before placing it on his chest, "you're here, for some twisted reason... you're always here, beating with me, in me" 

The lone tear tumbled down her cheek, unable to stop another one on its wake. 

"When you left my office that day, turning you back," he scratched his nose, not believing he was capable to retreating emotions embedded deep within, "I realised how much I wanted you to stay",

"How much I wanted to... hold you, kiss you, see you...just for another moment"

His hands gently cupped her face, savouring the precious moment of his life. He inhaled her mesmerising visage, taking in her vulnerable features, 

"I realised if you actually ever leave me, I would not be able to live."

He gulped the rising emotions down, finding it difficult to not shed tears when she did,

"Without you...nothing will make sense" 

He wiped her tears with his thumbs, taking a final breathe before saying what he ached to put forward all along, 

"Don't" she pleaded, stopping his confession, holding his wrists, detaching them from her face, 

"Don't love me" 
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Author's note: I felt very heavy while writing this...just...idk someone please hug me