NORA

There's only so much embarrassment one can carry before it becomes too much, and right now, it's too much. The things that I've dreamt of, the thoughts that have entered my mind, the images that are now present there, I don't think I'll be able to get them out of my head anytime soon.

No, it's impossible. There's no way that I'll be able to forget what had happened.

Even an ice-cold shower doesn't make me feel any better. I feel hot, hot, and disgusted for even thinking of Mr. Marcelli like that. The fact that he even appeared in my dream makes me feel dirty. And not only appeared, no, but he also had his hands all over me. And I let him.

God, I feel sick to my stomach.

"It's fine," Elena says on the other side of the line. "You can't even imagine how many wet dreams I've had of boys I would never, ever want to think about."

"That does not make me feel better." I groan, pressing the phone harder against my ear. This odd feeling, whatever it is, isn't going away. It's only increasing and consuming me.

All morning, I've tried to get it out of my mind, but failed. Each and every single time.

"It's a normal thing. You can't control it. Besides, he does look good from the one image I managed to find online. So, it would make sense."

"It really doesn't."

"Come on, Nora." She laughs. "It was just a dream. Just forget about it, or—well, you could always—"

"No!"

She laughs even more, finding some entertainment in all of this. I really wish that I could, but it isn't funny to me. Not when I woke up drenched, wet—and all those things I don't want to think of again.

I had his hands in my...

"Just get out, get some air, and get far away from him. You'll be fine."

"I don't think I can even get out of my room." I stare at the door, it's locked and I'm restraining myself from leaving even though I feel starved for some breakfast.

"Oh, you can. Get some food, and isn't Sofia returning?" Elena asks me.

She should be here already, she said she'd return in the morning and it's almost afternoon now. I've been keeping myself in the room even when I really wanted to head down to Dr. Graham's clinic and get back to work. Now, everything's ruined.

Why would I even dream of him? Of Mr. Marcelli, touching me, caressing me, kissing my ear, telling me that he'd—

"Nora?"

"Yes?" I shake my head and then look down at myself, where I'm lying over the bed. I can't be thinking of this again.

"Just relax."

I swallow hard and nod, "Yeah, I'll just go down, get some food, and wait for Mrs. Sofia to return. Shouldn't be too long."

"Exactly that."

That was the first mistake that I made, and it was getting out of my room when everything inside me was telling me not to. Because the moment I do enter the dining room, Mr. Marcelli is already seated with Maggie, serving him breakfast.

I want to scream.

What is even doing here at this time? Isn't he supposed to be gone? He doesn't even eat to begin with—well, not at least in front of me.

I'm near the door, planning how to run from here before his eyes catch me, since all I can see is his broad... muscular back. No. I'm almost about to turn and flee when I'm caught.

"Good morning, Ms. Nora." Maggie says, a wide smile on her face as she sees me.

I've no choice but to come forward. And the moment that I do, Mr. Marcelli turns and faces me. There's a sharp, indiscernible moment in his eyes, and I freeze.

"Morning, Maggie." I try not to look in his direction.

"Should I get you something?"

"No—I was just about to—" I raise my hand and point toward the kitchen. It's better if I head in that direction. "Get some coffee."

"Sit."

Right, well, there goes my one chance to flee this.

"Uh—no thanks, Mr. Marcelli," I tell him and then take a step back, but he catches my gaze, and I stop, not wanting to defy him. "Fine. I'll have some... uh, food." My eyes fall on the table that is covered with breakfast.

Maggie pulls out a chair for me, and I settle in while trying my best not look in his direction. Anywhere but him. The fact that he is here now, after the dream that I've had, is not a good sign.

She puts some of the food onto my plate, and those are the last few minutes I feel comfortable in before she leaves the dining room, leaving me alone with him. I swallow the first bite hard, even when it's a mere piece of soft bread. Either way, I can't taste anything at all.

My body tenses in the presence. In his evading presence. Slowly, the hair over my neck begins to rise.

And it isn't in a good way, not when I have the feeling that his eyes are on me, the entire time that I take another bite of my food.

He can't tell, can he? Would it be possible?

No.

He wouldn't.

I don't want him to know. Ever.

"Slept well?"

The fork stops midway in my hands and then drops over the plate, creating an ugly clank sound that I wish I hadn't just done. God. I'm losing my mind. "I did, yeah."

I don't dare look up to him. Not now and not ever.

I should've stayed in my room, locked myself in there until he was out of here. I really shouldn't have left. I should've never listened to Elena.

"Really?" He says that in a different tone.

"Yes. Really." I look up, momentarily meeting his questioning gaze, which makes me realize that perhaps there's more meaning to his question.

No. It's not possible. I'm only making this bigger in my head.

It can't be.

His gaze lowers onto his own plate, and I do, too, look away. "Henry is outside. He'll take you to the clinic."

What?

"What?" I ask, a little louder than usual. I hadn't been expecting that. "Right now? It's—late." Oh, just shut up, Nora.

"Yes. Now."

And there's a sense of urgency in that response.

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