The Slave of Pleasure

Rachel

As I walked down the hallway toward the room where Vincenzo's new clothes were, my thoughts were racing. I was still trying to process everything that had happened the unexpected turn of events of becoming his "fiancée," the tension in the air, and the worry about what this would mean for the future. I was walking toward another room where patients who were about to be discharged were being dressed, and my head was once again filled with thoughts and doubts until reality hit me hard when I crossed paths with Vincenzo's private nurse.

She was walking toward me, carrying a clipboard, with an almost carefree smile on her face. I couldn't help it. The shame still burned inside me like an uncontrollable flame, reminding me of the "intimate" moment I had shared with Vincenzo. What if she had seen? The cameras... My heart raced and, involuntarily, my legs almost stopped. I knew it would be embarrassing, but before I could change my mind, the words escaped my mouth.

"Hi..." I said, trying to sound casual, but my voice betrayed my anxiety.

"Hello, dear," she replied with a professional smile, stopping beside me.

I hesitated for a moment before finally asking, "I...was wondering...who m..monitors the patient cameras?"

The question hung in the air, and I braced myself for the worst. She raised an eyebrow, as if the question were completely ordinary, and gave a small smile. "Every nurse monitors the patients under their care. In Mr. Vincenzo's case, I am the one who handles everything, including his security and monitoring."

My suspicions were confirmed. My stomach sank, and the blood rushed to my face in an uncontrollable blush. She had seen it. The entire scene, me and Vincenzo, in that depraved moment... She knew.

"Was... were you...watching the whole time?" I whispered, barely able to maintain eye contact.

She leaned closer to my face, almost as if to tell me a secret. She smiled and whispered in a promiscuous way. "It's my job to make sure he's okay, honey. Don't worry, these things don't leave the hospital. We're very professional in that sense." "You did very well in there, but..." she said as she ran her thumb over the left corner of my mouth, wiping away a drop of Vincenzo's semen that had run down my cheek when I failed to wipe my mouth. "When you do something so inappropriate again, make sure you don't leave a trace," she said as she sucked her thumb and smiled mischievously.

I could barely process her words. Everything inside me screamed to get out of there as quickly as possible. "Oh, sure...", I murmured, moving my cold hands nervously. "Thank you..."

"You're welcome," she replied, still smiling, as if all of this was normal. "Go get his clothes. He'll need them soon."

I nodded quickly and kept walking, my heart pounding and my hands shaking. That conversation had left me more embarrassed than I could have imagined. I had never felt so embarrassed in my life.

As I walked down the long hospital corridor, each step I took seemed to echo in the vastness of the place. I was nervous and a little lost. I had no idea where Vincenzo's clothes were. The hospital was so big that if I didn't ask for directions, I would probably end up walking in circles. So I approached the reception desk.

"Excuse me, where are patient Vincenzo Moretti's clothes?" I asked the receptionist.

She smiled professionally and, with a patience that I admired, explained in detail the way to the room where the clothes were stored. "Follow this corridor to the end, turn left, go through two doors, and in the third corridor, turn right. The belongings room will be marked there."

I thanked her, trying to memorize the way, and began to follow the instructions. Every hallway I walked through made me reflect on the stark difference between this luxury hospital and the public hospitals I had visited before. Here, everything was spotless, the floors gleamed, the walls looked freshly painted, and every detail exuded money. I couldn't help but think about the injustice of this discrepancy. A hospital like this was practically a parallel reality for most people. Lost in my thoughts, I ended up bumping into someone. When I looked up, I realized it was Vincenzo's driver.

"Ms. Rachel," he said, with a slight nod. "Mr. Vincenzo told me. He wants me to pick him up."

"Oh, okay," I replied, a little surprised. "I was just going to get his clothes. Why don't you come with me?"

He nodded, and we walked through the hospital together. His presence somehow made me feel less uncomfortable in such an opulent environment. We walked through the halls, and even though he was reserved and didn't say much, his company was comforting.

We finally reached the classroom.and belongings. I took Vincenzo's clothes and thanked the nurse who handed them to us. She seemed to recognize the driver, which didn't surprise me. It was clear that everyone in the hospital knew who Vincenzo was. Maybe they even knew more about him than I did.

We returned to the hospital room where Vincenzo was resting. When we entered, he greeted us with a serious look, but nodded his thanks. "Thank you," he said as he began to get dressed. The new clothes fit him perfectly, highlighting his imposing bearing, even after the accident. Vincenzo looked at the driver. "Wait for me by the elevator," he ordered, his voice firm and authoritative.Text © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

The driver left the room immediately, and I stood there, watching Vincenzo finish getting dressed. His every move was meticulous and confident. He gathered up his belongings, took one last look around the room, and without saying a word, held out his hand to me.

I hesitated for a second, but then I took his hand. He held it tightly, and together we walked to the elevator, side by side. The simple act of holding his hand made me feel a strange mix of security and uncertainty. I knew that this walk with him symbolized much more than just a walk to the hospital exit.