Keeping his bride

Nicholas

I WATCH SELINA sleep. She’s currently in a room down the hall from my own, and I’ve been sitting here for hours, waiting, while the doctor ran some tests and a nurse cleaned and bandaged her wounds. It’s still hard to believe that she’s really here. I’m terrified that at any given moment I’m going to wake up from this dream and she’ll be gone again.

Needing to ground myself, I reach out and skim my fingertips down her forearm, her skin soft under my touch. My hand finds hers, and I hold it, squeezing gently to reassure her while she’s unconscious that I’m here, that I’ll protect her.

I never stopped looking for Selina ever since that horrible day when her mother took her away from me. Hell, Aldo has been on the case for the past decade. And that’s exactly how long it’s been since the last time I’ve seen her.

Ten long, agonizing years.

Despite the dark circles under her eyes and all the cuts and bruises, Selina is still breathtakingly beautiful; an older version of the girl I fell in love with ong ago. But things were different back then. We were different. And when she finally does wake up, I’m going to have a million questions. To be honest, I don’t even know where to begin. I’ll stick with the most crucial inquiries first. I want to know where she’s been. I want to know how she came to be under Gino Carbone’s control. And most importantly, I want to know who got her addicted to drugs.

However, for right now, the questions will have to wait. I have to let her rest. Her body needs to recuperate from all the trauma it has suffered not only over the past several hours but for the past fucking decade.Copyright by Nôv/elDrama.Org.

Reluctantly, I pull my hand away from hers and walk out of her room. Selina is sedated for now while the illegal drugs work their way out of her system thanks to IV fluids and medicine, so I feel safe leaving her alone for a brief period.

When Selina does finally wake, I know that she is not going to be the same girl from all those years ago. I need to mentally prepare myself for the new version of her that I got a glimpse of at the party. I don’t know if I can ever fully prepare myself, however. There’s still a part of me hoping that she’ll be the same sweet, funny, charming girl I once knew and loved.

Dr. Fay Catalano, the physician on call that’s been looking after Selina, is waiting for me out in the hallway. When she sees me, she motions for me to follow her, which I do. I’ve been eager for an update on Selina’s condition. We enter an office a few doors down the hall, and I watch as she grabs a thick manilla folder from a table, flipping through it as she studies it silently.

The doctor is an older woman with salt and pepper hair. Her short stature may fool some people, but she can stare down even the bravest of men and have them backing down in a matter of seconds. I’ve seen her do it firsthand. She’s seen a lot in her sixty-some years of life, and it shows.

She takes a seat opposite of me, and only gives me a moment to settle into my own chair before she begins talking. “I’ve run numerous tests on Selina,” she starts, peering up at me through her thick glasses. “She’s malnourished and dehydrated. I have her on an IV, giving her the fluids she needs as well as some antibiotics.” She continues with, “Selina suffered two broken ribs from the assault at the party, which resulted in a punctured lung. She’s going to need a few days at least of bed rest and then six to eight weeks to recover from those injuries alone.” She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “When I deem her fit enough, she can have some light physical therapy to get her back into shape, because I noticed some muscle atrophy in her arms and legs. Perhaps she was tied up for long periods of time. I mean, that would explain the scars on her wrists and ankles,” she says as she reads over the reports with a grim expression on her face. “I also discovered a lot of old bruises and untreated fractures, so I would say, unfortunately, this young lady has a very long history of abuse.”

My hands curl into fists at my sides, and it takes everything in me to sit there and listen as the doctor explains what’s wrong with Selina. Outside, I appear calm and understanding, but inside I’m a fucking wreck. I want to destroy the world, starting with Constantine Carbone and his entire lineage. I already took out his son, but it wasn’t enough. I won’t stop until his whole empire is burning to the fucking ground.

The doctor scribbles some notes down in her chart. Then, she frowns and hands me a copy of the toxicology report. “Also, Selina has multiple substances in her system. She was on a number of psychotropic drugs that we’re still testing to try to learn the names of them. More than likely they were some type of street benzodiazepines. She’s coming down from a dangerous cocktai , I’m afraid, and I’m doing my best to keep her stabilized while she goes through withdrawal.”

“How long will that take?” I ask as I look up from the laundry list of drugs on the paper.

“She should start feeling better in a week or so,” the doctor concludes. “She’s going to be pretty out of it for the first few days of her stay here, unfortunately, as she goes through a variety of side effects – incoherent babbling, excessive sweating, paranoia, vomiting, the whole nine yards. Sarah will keep a good eye on her while she goes through the withdrawal.”

Sarah Benson is the nurse who works full time at the compound. She’s here during the day and on call at night in case any emergencies arise. I’ve known her personally for years, and she’s great at what she does. I’m more than happy to entrust Selina’s care to her.

Dr. Catalano clears her throat and then tells me, “Selina also has a birth control implant in her upper arm that I discovered. I left it alone. I’m sure Selina can decide whether she wants that removed or not when she’s alert and coherent.”

I find some comfort knowing that Selina at least didn’t have to deal with unwanted pregnancies while she was being held captive by Gino. I can’t imagine the unspeakable horrors she went through, and I know she would have never wanted to have a child go through that, let alone her own child.

“If you don’t need anything else, I would like to go home for the day,” the doctor informs me.

“Yes, of course. Thank you for all that you’ve done.”

“Sarah has my number on speed dial. I can be here in ten minutes if anything happens,” she assures me.

“Thank you, Doc. For everything,” I tell her before standing up and leaving the office. I walk down the hall, passing by Selina’s door, on the way to my room when my feet suddenly stop, my shoes rooted to the hardwood floor. Groaning, I scrub a hand down my face. I know I should get some sleep; but for some reason, I feel an overwhelming need to check on Selina again.

I tell myself it will only be for a few minutes, but the minutes quickly turn to hours, and soon I’m just sitting there, watching over her…and waiting.