The Slave of Pleasure
Chapter 59

Rachel

The nurse was completely focused as she checked Vincenzo's blood pressure, her meticulous and precise movements made me realize that, behind all that eccentricity, she was extremely competent. She observed every detail of her, including how she wore her watch on her left wrist, but facing down. It was something I hadn't noticed until then, which made me wonder how many other details I might have missed about her.

She tilted her forehead until it lightly touched Vincenzo's, checking to see if he had a fever. I didn't say a word, I just kept watching. There, in that stillness, she was no longer the woman who made jokes in the car, who was enchanted by the mansion or who threw herself into life impulsively. In that moment, she was a professional, almost a skilled doctor.

With quick movements, she moved away from Vincenzo and searched for something in her bag. When she turned to me, she already had her stethoscope in her hand, and before I could react, her right hand was already covered with a glove. I was surprised by the speed and efficiency with which she worked. Everything seemed to flow naturally for her, as if every gesture had been rehearsed a thousand times. She put the stethoscope in her ears and began to check Vincenzo's heartbeat. Her gaze was serious, professional, completely focused. Then she took his blood pressure again, observing every detail with precision. Suddenly, Vincenzo took a deep breath, and his arm moved slightly. He was about to wake up, and that made my heart race for a moment. My eyes widened, and I was about to tell the nurse to stop, but before I could say a word, she waved her hand at me. The message was clear: stay still. The sound of my heels as I walked toward them almost woke Vincenzo. The last step echoed through the silence of the room, and at any moment, it could be enough to wake him up completely. But, surprisingly, she seemed to calculate even that. She kept her hand extended to me while she stared at Vincenzo, as if she was used to dealing with delicate situations. And I, paralyzed by tension, remained still.

My whole body was on alert, the air in the room seemed heavier. The nurse, however, continued her work with a confidence that almost irritated me. It was as if she knew that everything was under control, while I struggled to contain my nervousness. I looked from Vincenzo to her, observing every little detail, and wondering how someone so chaotic at one moment could be so calm and controlled at the next.

Finally, after checking Vincenzo's signals and making sure that everything was in order, the nurse took a small step back and took off her stethoscope, putting it back in her bag with the same agility with which she had started. She looked at me with a slight smile on her face, after Vincenzo took a deep breath and continued to sleep: "Everything is under control." I breathed a sigh of relief, but my body was still tense. I couldn't relax completely. "He's going to be fine," she whispered, confirming that the situation was under control. I wanted to believe her, I wanted to trust her expertise. But a part of me was still on guard, ready for anything that might happen. As she packed up the rest of her instruments and prepared to leave, I finally managed to let out the breath I had been holding. Everything seemed fine, for now. Still, something inside me remained alert, as if, at any moment, everything could change. When the nurse looked at me after checking Vincenzo, she reached out her hand towards the door, and I followed her with a sigh of relief. I looked at Vincenzo once more, watching him rest peacefully. Although he was still recovering, it was a relief to know that he was well taken care of. We left the room in silence, and I closed the door carefully, wanting to make sure he got the rest he needed.

Outside, the nurse was still professional, her focus completely on Vincenzo's condition. "He's recovering very well," she said, her voice soft but firm. "Vincenzo is stronger than an ox, and in his case, that's not just an expression." Her confidence comforted me. Even after everything we'd been through, it still seemed unbelievable that he was recovering so well.

"He's been sleeping for two days straight," she continued, "which is a good thing for his body. When he wakes up, he'll need to hydrate himself and consume protein. I recommend protein shakes and supplements. It's funny to think that he's that size and doesn't exercise."

Her words about his condition brought me profound relief, and before I knew it, my eyes were filling with tears. Everything I had been holding inside me the fear, the uncertainty, the tension-finally began to dissipate. Without a doubt, I could not contain myself, but hugged the nurse tightly, in a genuine and affectionate way. She seemed surprised, but she quickly returned the hug with the same affection.

"Thank you," I whispered, my voice breaking. "I don't know how to thank you for everything you did for him today."

The nurse, with her usual easygoing nature, smiled. "I have a few ideas of how you could thank me, but 99% of them you would replace completely unthinkable."

I laughed, still through the tears. She knew exactly how to lighten the situation. Her comments always caught me off guard, but in that moment, they were welcome.

Before I could say anything else, the nurse suddenly looked startled. "Does that smell like spaghetti and meatballs?" she asked, as if she had discovered a treasure. Without waiting for my answer, she grabbed my arm and exclaimed, "LET'S GO!" pulling me with infectious energy towards the kitchen.

I could barely contain my own laughter as I was dragged through the halls of the mansion. The scene was ridiculous, but genuinely entertaining. Her energy and enthusiasm were something I didn't know I needed at that moment. As we walked to the kitchen, I felt a surge of gratitude. The nurse, with her quirky and somewhat eccentric ways, had become an important part of my life in such a short space of time. Her presence, though chaotic at times, was comforting. And most of all, she had taken care of Vincenzo in a way that I could never adequately repay. When we finally reached the kitchen, the delicious aroma of spaghetti and meatballs filled the air, and the nurse's face lit up like a kid in a candy store. She looked at me with a mischievous smile. "Tonight is going to be a night to celebrate." I just smiled back, feeling something I hadn't felt in a long time: genuine happiness.