Alex scowled. ‘I should be the one helpingyou.’
‘I’m not the one bleeding.’
‘Did he . . .?’
Lucia gave a gentle shake of the head. ‘No. And thank you for coming when you did.’
‘I usually wear earplugs when I work. But I had only just taken them out to listen to some music instead. That’s when I heard you scream,’ he said, between wipes and blots. He closed his eyes as she dabbed around the cut above his brow. ‘How deep is it?’
She flicked his curious fingers away. ‘Don’t touch it. It’s just superficial.’
‘Grazie, Lucia.’
‘Prego.’
‘Let’s call thecarabinieri. File a report. It’s the most important thing to do right now.’
Lucia swallowed then nodded, and began to gently weep. ‘Thank you again.’
Thecarabiniericame and left within an hour. They took statements from both Alex and Lucia, and suggested Alex might benefit from a medical examination, which he was adamant wasn’t necessary. Before departing, the officers alsohelped Alex secure the front door with a chipboard panel to replace the smashed glass pane. In the meantime Lucia gave Foscari a proper check over, and despite his treatment at the hands of the intruder, he was moving well and seemed unharmed.
Noting how Lucia’s hands were still shaking, Alex said, ‘I would like to stay here with you tonight. In case he returns.’
Lucia looked down at her simple grey pyjamas, realising that the intruder had torn the pants and separated the lace from the waistline. She didn’t care in the slightest about them, but it was a reminder of what could have been, so she nodded.
Accepting this support and allowing Alex into her private space was a big step for Lucia. But judging by the ease which settled in her belly knowing she wouldn’t be alone for the night, she knew she was ready to trust him. ‘Would you like to . . .?’ She tapped the bed between them.
Alex’s eyes darted across the apartment, as if checking for more appropriate options. ‘No. I won’t sleep. I can just sit here.’
Lucia studied him as he made to sit by thecalle-facing window, but noticed him wince in pain as he moved.
‘You’re hurt, Alex, please. Just come and at least sit on the bed.’
Alex looked around the apartment, and conceded. ‘Grazie.’
Lucia fussed for a moment, gathering things and putting them away before eventually turning off the light and slipping into bed. With obvious apprehension, Alex eventually eased himself down beside her.
Foscari, unsure about their new bedfellow, stayed close by, and every now and then raised his little head to check on Lucia.
‘If you get cold, you can—’
‘Tranquilla. You should rest now.’ He kicked off his shoes and propped the pillow behind his back. He didn’t join her under the covers; instead, he lay on top of them. His weight pulling down on the bedsheets next to her felt reassuring to Lucia, as if she were being held tightly and securely. ‘Just sleep. Nothing will happen to you.’ He turned off the light on the nightstand by his side of the bed, plunging them once again into darkness.
Lucia, with her limbs balled tightly under the linen, began to weep.
She felt Alex’s hand rest on the covers pulled over her shoulders. ‘It’s ok, Lucia. Let it out. You’ll feel better.’
Lucia nodded into her pillow. ‘Buonanotte,’ she sniffed. ‘Please don’t leave until the morning.’
‘I won’t.Sogni d’oro.’
The low dawn glow stole past the edges of the curtains, allowing in enough light to illuminate Lucia’s face as she slept beside Alex. True to his word, he hadn’t slept a wink. Instead, he’d spent the hours absorbing both Lucia and her apartment.
Her kitchen was an eclectic collection of odds and ends, all on display thanks to the open-style shelving. Plastered across her fridge were photos. Even at the three-metre distance from the end of the bed to the kitchen, Alex recognised Francesco and Mariella in some of the newer ones. And then there were some of Foscari as a pup. There was a collection of older photos, too, all with a common theme – Lucia with her parents.
Her small writing desk by the landing had been left neat and tidy, and the freestanding wardrobe to the right which displayed her clothes revealed her preference for understated colours.
In her sleep, Lucia turned on her pillow to face him. He studied her profile and her long, dark lashes. The last of the bruise on her forehead was healing, with only some yellow shadowing remaining.
