Disclaimer: I don't own Orlando Bloom or any living person depicted in the story. They deserve my utmost respect.
-------------------- CHAPTER NINE -------------------
Verena walked into her bedroom and locked the door behind her. She leaned against the wall, trembling, and touched her lips.
How dared he kiss her? How could she lose control like that?
She felt the blood pumping through her veins, felt her whole body aching for more. Verena breathed deeply, slowly regaining control. She could still feel his lips on hers, his tongue in her mouth, his body against hers. And it felt good. She had known that it might come to this sometime, that somebody would assault her carefully built defenses and she had hoped that it would be a man with whom she could start anew. But not Orlando, for Christ's sake! He was young, so young, starting his career, beginning to experience the lifestyle she loathed and having fun at it. He would play the wild boy a couple of years, find himself a nice young girl and start a family on his own. He was entirely wrong for her and she was entirely wrong for him. And he was her charge. Damn it all to hell and back.
*********************
Orlando walked into the bathroom and splashed his face with cold water.
What had come over him? Had he absolutely lost his mind? Okay, he had been thinking about her all night long. He had fantasized about her as he watched her dance with Viggo, embrace Viggo; she was a very desirable woman. But they had a work relationship going, no more no less. He only knew that the moment she had softly kissed him in a friendly peck, the feel of her had been too much to resist. Man, she had tasted so good, she had felt good against him, and as Verena had responded to the kiss, he let go of all reservations and he would have made love to her right there. But she had pushed him away and broken the spell. And against all reasonable thinking, he did not regret the kiss. Orlando wanted Verena, and no one else would do. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
********************
White lightning a loud explosion shook everything around her, and Verena felt herself flying through the air, the heat wave hitting her with a heavy blow.
Something heavy falling on her, crashing painfully against the debris under which she was buried and she saw only blood around her. The acrid smell of burning flesh and the copper taste of her own blood flooded her senses. She felt the searing pain and she began to search around her until her hands touched human flesh. The darkness was gone, but she was still blinded by the light. Panic took over her mind. "Noooooooooooooooooo", she started screaming, clenching her eyes in horror.
She could still feel the dust and grime and heat when she opened them, but the world around her was full of sunlight and silent. Verena relaxed a bit as she recognized her bedroom in LA.
It was a nightmare.
The same nightmare that had driven her to the brink of insanity years ago. Her head throbbed with pain. She winced, and reached desperately for her bedside table. The waves of pain and nausea hit her again, Verena could not open her eyes. She needed her meds, NOW.
*********************
Orlando woke up from the lousy two hours of sleep he had received after tossing and turning in bed, thinking of how to approach Verena after last night's incident, what to say to her.
And the worst part of it was that he had dreamed of her, re-enacting the feeling of her body and lips against his.
He stood up and made his way to the shower. He looked at the clock and groaned when he saw it was barely 7 a.m. He showered and went to his bedroom to dress. Just as he was locating a pair of clean jeans, he heard a scream in the main house. He pulled his jeans on and ran for the connecting door and down the stairs, aiming for the master bedroom. The scream he had heard wasn't Zoë's; it had to be Verena.
As he entered the room, he saw her curled up in a ball on one side of the bed, writhing and wincing as if in pain. In the next second her hand snaked from underneath the covers and started digging frantically in the drawer of her bedside table.
He walked over to her and softly asked, "V, I heard your scream. Are you all right? Can I help you? What do you need?"
Verena's face turned to him; her eyes clenched shut, her breathing ragged. She tried to even her breathing and managed to open her eyes enough to look at him. It seemed to be a couple of seconds before she recognized him. "Orlando?"
She made an effort to open her eyes that were brimming with unshed tears her look was hazy.
"Yes, V, it's me. Relax, tell me what you need," he said sitting next to her on the bed. "Shouldn't we go to a hospital or something?"
"The meds ... I need my meds, please," she whispered and he reached into the drawer and found the small vial of pills. He read the label and recognized the name of a painkiller he had used himself after his accident. He took one pill out of the bottle, gave it to Verena, and stood up to go fetch a glass of water for her.
She grabbed his hand. "Not one, two, please." He was alarmed but didn't comment. As he walked towards the door, Zoë was standing there, carefully balancing a glass of water on her way in. The child smiled as Orlando took the glass from her small hands and brought it over to Verena. She took the two pills and said. "Thank you, Orlando. Please tell Zoë I will be fine."
"I will. Are you going to rest a little now?" he asked, smoothing the covers around her. Verena nodded lightly and burrowed into the covers.
Orlando went to where Zoë was standing and swept her up, walking out of the bedroom and closing the door.
"It was one of her bad dreams, right Orli? I was bringing her water so she could take her medicine. After the dreams her head hurts and Mamma needs her medicine badly. Poor Mamma, she is going to be better, right Orli? Maybe I should go and lay down with her and hug her until she feels better. Do you think we should leave her alone? I do not like to be alone when I am sick … and Mamma always takes care of me. Rita will know what to do, she always does."
Zoë's little face showed both, deep concern for her mother and a hint of fear. The child had obviously seen her mother having nightmares and migraines before, but the sight of her mother not being the one who took care of her but needed to be taken care of terrified Zoë.
Orlando hugged her closer while he brought her down to the kitchen, hoping that Rita was already in the house. Luckily, she was.
"Good morning Rita!" he greeted the housekeeper. "Verena isn't feeling well this morning and I wondered if you could make sure Zoë is ready for school. I will drive her there."
"Miss Verena is sick? What is it, Orli? Nightmares and headache? Did she take her medicines?" inquired Rita with real concern in her voice.
Zoë snuggled closer in Orlando's arms.
"Has she had this before?" he asked Rita, hugging Zoë tighter. He already knew the answer to that question, but he wanted to know more.
Rita sighed. "Come, Chiquita, be good and go dress, I'll explain to Orli, bueno?"
Without waiting for an answer, she took Zoë from Orlando's arms and set her on her feet. Zoë gave Orlando a kiss and went up to her room.
Rita sighed again. "Miss Verena suffers from that for as long as I know her, before Zoë was born. It was worse before, now it happens once in a while. She needs to sleep the medicine off and relax. I can take care of her, don't worry, Orlando."
Orlando looked into the kind face of the older woman, and saw she would give him no more information. And suddenly all he wanted was to take care of Verena. "Is there any specific care for her migraine?"
"No, but she might get restless and stubborn about getting up. She only needs rest and medication and fluids to wash the medicine out. No more." Rita said. As if reading his thoughts, she continued, "I can get the Chiquita to school with a taxi. I'll prepare a big pot of apple tea, and you may watch over Miss V if you want, Orli."
Orlando was surprised at Rita's ability to read his mind. He smiled thankfully at her. "That would be great, Rita. Meanwhile I will check on the munchkin."
He went up to Zoë's room and found she wasn't there. The little girl was standing at the door of her mother's room, leaning against it.
"She will be fine, right Orli?" she said, her big brown eyes focused on Orli as if he could give her the answers she needed to hear.
Orlando kneeled by Zoë and looked into the child's eyes. "She will be fine in no time, love. I promise, I will look after her and after you as long as I can. Now let's go and have some breakfast."
"Orli?" Zoë said.
"Yes, honey?" he asked.
"I think you should put on a shirt and socks, or else you might catch a cold," said Zoë very seriously.
He felt like laughing out loud. A five-year old was telling him to get dressed and take care. But this was no regular five-year old, but Zoë, his little friend.
"I will finish dressing, munchkin, you go downstairs, or else we will be late for school."
Orlando tiptoed into Verena's room. He was thinking, hard, about last night and this morning, trying to sort out his thoughts and feelings.
Verena was tossing around in her bed, mumbling in her restless sleep. She looked so vulnerable and helpless, for the first time since he had met her. She needed help, she needed him. And he was going to help her through this.
He sat on the bed, and stretched out next to her, smoothing her hair, whispering calm reassurances to her, holding her close until she stopped tossing and turning falling asleep. And he prepared himself to guard her sleep and take care of her until she was well again.
***********************
Verena struggled to wake up from the haze of the medication, but her head was still hurting like hell. It hurt even to think. But she had to: Zoë had to go to school, she had to go through the agenda with Orlando, and there were a couple of photos she had to edit for Geo. Plenty of things to do. She forced herself to open her eyes and turned slowly to the source of soft light coming from a crack in the curtains. A soft hand tenderly wiped the sweaty hair from her brow and a voice whispered, "Easy, V. Rest. Relax. You will feel better if you rest a bit more."
Verena thought she recognized Orlando's voice through the haze. Why was he being so kind, and what was he doing here?
"Orlando? Why are you here? Zoë?" she forced herself to croak out. Her mouth was dry and felt pasty. Damn painkillers. She had to get a grip of herself.
Orlando was holding her, but let her go to fetch the mug of tea from the bedside table. Verena managed to lean up on her elbows, wincing at the pain and dizziness the slight movement caused. Orlando helped her take a sip of tea. She looked over at him, gratefully.
There he sat, next to her on the bed, holding a mug with steam rising from it. He gave her a little smile, his eyes full of concern .... for her? He shouldn't be there, she should be up and working and Zoë ....
"Zoë?" she asked him again.
"Already at school, don't worry. Now please rest, Verena. Pretty please?" he begged. Her eyes were focused and clear now, but she looked like hell. He gave her the mug and she took it, her hands shaking.
"Verena, there is nothing on the agenda today, Zoë has been taken care of, and I hope you hadn't any other big plans. You should lay down and sleep a little more or just rest until you feel better," Orlando insisted.
He needed to change the subject before she threw him out of her bedroom. "Great photos you have here, V. Amazing work." He pointed to half a dozen of pictures hanging on the wall. They were all of Zoë, at different ages.
And there was one, the first of all, that showed Verena, naked from the waist up, laying on a blanket, with newborn Zoë on her tummy. It was an artistic photograph, and Orlando's favorite out of the whole series, Verena was looking full of love to the little bundle of flesh and the photographer had caught the expression. "Who took these?" he asked her.
Verena was watching him as intently as her fuzzy brain allowed her, and answered slowly. "Spence made that one. He wanted to make one of Zoë and me together in the hospital but I didn't allow it. That is the result of his nagging me almost to death. The others are all my work."
Orlando nodded, his look wandering from the beautiful picture of half naked V to his other favorite. It was Zoë, probably this very year, laughing gleefully while watching a butterfly fly away. It was lovely, showing all of Zoë's spirit in the amazed look of the intelligent brown eyes.
"Verena, would you make a copy of Zoë's picture for me?" he asked and instantly regretted the question. He was treading on dangerous ground.
Verena felt the pain easing and she gathered her strength. The question surprised her.
"What for, Orlando? When this contract is over you will go back to your own independent life and Zoë and I will move on as well. I don't think there will be space for her in your world or life and neither for you in hers. We will all move on," she said calmly, stating a fact.
Orlando pondered his words before answering. "You know I care deeply for Zoë". He paused before continuing. " And I'd like to think that you and I might be friends. Good friends. As you said the first night, we can work this out." He had turned towards Verena and was observing her. She had recovered enough to have her usual cool and calm demeanor. He couldn't read anything in her face.
Verena took a deep breath. She had to put her thoughts in order.
He was being wonderful to Zoë and now amazingly considerate towards her. It felt nice to be taken care of and she enjoyed his presence. How come? Probably she was much too weak and hurting to think about it or resist.
They were still bound by the contract for three months to go. And if they were able to make a truce, it would make things easier for both. And Zoë.
Zoë loved this man to pieces. He was good. And Verena wanted to believe it.
They needed to give each other a break. And she would.
"I appreciate very much the sincere affection you give Zoë, Orlando. I also believe that you are a good man, and I will treasure your friendship. I will make you a copy of Zoë's photo and I am sure we can be friends. But no more than friends," Verena said, searching his face.
Orlando let go the breath he hadn't noticed he was holding. He didn't smile, but nodded to her, sealing the agreement between them.
It was a new beginning, from scratch. And the soul-searing kiss of last night had never happened. Or so they both preferred to think.
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