~Anne's POV~
I laid still in Riccardo's arm, still gathering my thoughts on what had just happened. A couple minutes ago I had been powerless in his arms, and now I was lying in bed with him, wrapped beneath my sheets as if we belonged there.
The room was quiet, the air still thick with tension. I had no idea what had gotten into me, why I had let him stay. Maybe it was because I didn't have the strength to push him away. Maybe some pathetic part of me needed the warmth…wanted him
Riccardo lay behind me, one arm around my waist, holding me like he was afraid I'd slip through his fingers if he loosened up even a little. His breath brushed against the back of my neck, and I felt my body shudder slightly in reaction.
"Anne…" he whispered, voice low, almost careful. "Are you okay?"
I remained still, unsure if I had the correct answer to that question. I didn't feel nearly as bad as I did a few minutes ago, but that didn't mean that i was doing okay.
After some time, I let out a shaky exhale. "Do I look okay to you?"
His grip around me tightened instinctively.
"No," he murmured. "You don't. And I'm… I'm trying. I'm doing everything I can to fix this."
Fix this. I almost laughed. There was no fixing a nightmare that half the world had already seen. It didn't matter if he was the one who released the video or not, he was aware of it and he didn't care to delete it before all this mess. While I was grateful for his efforts so far, i couldn't just look past his faults.
I stared at my wall, unable to turn and face him. I couldn't, not after everything that had happened.
"Why are you here, Riccardo?" I asked quietly. "Why didn't you just… stay away?"
He shifted slightly, his hand brushing against my stomach beneath the sheet—just a faint movement, almost hesitant.
"Because you weren't doing okay," he said. "And I wasn't going to leave you alone like that."
I drew a short breath, loosened myself a bit from his embrace, but still didn't turn to face him. I wasn't satisfied with his answer, with the games he was playing. I didn't like any of it.
"But you shouldn't be here," I whispered. "You shouldn't be in my bed."
Although i couldn't see his face, I was almost certain that he had a smile spread across his face at that moment. Then he closed the little space I had created a few seconds ago, and pressed his forehead gently between my shoulder blades.
"Maybe not," he murmured. "But I'm not leaving until you want me to."
I felt my heart skip a beat at those words. Should I
push him away? Should I save whatever remained of my dignity by asking him to leave? I wanted to, but there was no denying that a bigger part of me wanted him around, even if not in my bed, I wanted him here..
"Who did it?" I asked, changing the subject and finally breaking the awkward silence that threatened to linger.
There was a subtle shift from Riccardo, one that forced me to finally turn around and meet his gaze. He was being secretive, like he didn't want to tell me what he was hiding.
"It doesn't matter, what matters is that it gets taken down, that all of this goes away—"
"I want a name, Riccardo." My voice was firm, and he was quick to catch the seriousness in my tone. "A video of me being abused by that monster is all over the place, the least you can do is tell me who is responsible for it!"
He paused for a second, then threw the sheets off his body. Soon he was standing on his feet, searching for his clothes.
"It's not necessary, trust me." He said as he picked up his shirt from the couch. "I need to get going, there's still something I need to get done."
I stared at Riccardo with wide eyes. Was he really leaving?
"So you're just… leaving?" I pushed myself up in bed, the sheets pooling around my waist. "After everything that happened? After you barged into my home and climbed into my bed—you're just walking out the second I ask a question you don't like?"
He finally turned. For a moment it seemed like he wouldn't look at me, but his eyes soon found mine.
"Anne," he started softly, "right now, what you need is for that video to disappear. And that's what I'm handling."
"But you won't tell me who's behind it?!" My voice cracked at the edges. "You won't even look me in the eye when I ask."
He dragged a hand through his hair and exhaled slowly, as if trying to steady himself. "It's not going to help, besides it'll only make things worse, so please let's forget it for now."
"How?" I shot back. "How could anything get worse than having the most traumatic night of my life spread all over the damn internet?"
He paused, as though those words had finally caught up to him. But even then, it didn't seem like he had any intention of telling me anything yet.
"Is it Clara?! Your girlfriend?"
"She's not my—"
He paused, took a deep breath, and then took a step towards me only stopping at the edge of the bed.
"I'll come back," he said instead. "Just… stay inside. Don't talk to anyone. I'll get everything fixed."
Then he turned toward the door. A hollow ache bloomed in my chest as I watched him.
"Riccardo…" I said, my voice barely above a breath. I should have known something like this would happen. He owed me nothing, he probably just wanted to sleep with me, and I had stupidly let him!
He paused with his hand on the doorknob, his shoulders rising and falling with one slow inhale.
But he didn't turn back, and he didn't say another word. He simply stepped out of the room. I stared at door, completely unsure of what to make of everything. Perhaps it was best not to think about it, maybe just let him handle everything and put it behind me.
The sex… these emotions…
What has Riccardo done?