Blackmailed to the Altar (Caputo Crime Family #2)

17. Chapter Seventeen

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

S ebastian

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft, golden glow across the room. I woke up to the birds chirping, and Mya lying naked in my arms, with a satisfied smile on her face. Was I in the Twilight Zone? How was it that this was the second time I’d awoken with my woman, and didn’t remember how I got there? Mya hadn’t wrapped her hair up the night prior, so her hair was all over the place, spread out on the satin pillowcases I bought just for her.

She looked peaceful, almost angelic, her usual guarded expression softened in sleep. The sight stirred something unfamiliar in me. A quiet, aching warmth that I hadn’t felt in… well, ever. I didn’t know how I’d ended up here, didn’t remember slipping into her bed, but there was a comfort in this moment that I wanted to cling to. Mya, the woman who should hate me, was in my arms. And it felt right in a way that defied every bit of logic.

I brushed her hair away from her face, my gloved fingers trailing lightly over her cheek. She stirred slightly, murmuring something incoherent, before settling back into the pillow. I couldn’t help the smile that broke out across my face, an unfamiliar tug at my lips that made my chest tighten. I didn’t deserve to have this. This softness, intimacy. It was dangerous to want it, to want more with her. I wanted to let myself believe it was something I could have, even for a moment. Right now, with Mya warm and alive in my arms, I let myself pretend.

She shifted again, her eyes fluttering open as she blinked up at me. Mya stretched and shot me a coy grin as I shook off my thoughts. “Morning,” she whispered.

When I didn’t respond, she looked back and forth into my eyes, before I saw disappointment flash in her gaze. She nodded, her cheeks flushing slightly, as she pulled back just enough to create a sliver of space between us.

What the fuck was that about? Did I not satisfy her or something?

“Good morning, my little wife-to-be.” I placed a gentle kiss on her lips.

She turned her head away and whispered, “Morning breath.”

But I wasn’t having any more of her rejection. I gripped her chin and forced her face toward me, then I gave her a kiss, uncaring of the smell emanating from her mouth. She could brush her teeth once I’d tasted her natural musk.

“Last night was amazing,” I rasped, even though I didn’t remember it. I knew it was off the charts.

Her eyes flickered with something, but I let her go before I could analyze it. I was surprised that Mya was lying docile in my arms, and allowing me to cuddle with her. I didn’t even know I had cuddling within me.

I’d never wanted to hold a woman before.

But there was something about Dr. Mya Rivers that set my blood aflame. She made me want to be a better human being. “How did you get into being a psychiatrist?”

“Don’t you know that answer already?” she mused.

“Actually, no. I don’t. I looked up your reputation, but I didn’t dig deep into your roots.” Even though I’d found a full file on her, I never opened it. I don’t know why my men got all that information on her, but I wanted to learn about my doctor from her.

“My mom had a nervous breakdown, and killed herself when I was a kid. All I wanted to do was be there for her, and be able to help her through her problems.” She shrugged.

“That’s a really great reason, though.” I was surprised. I thought she got into it because she liked manipulating people into acting the way she wanted them to. “Why did you start forcing people to take meds?”

She thought about my question for a while before answering. I rubbed my hand up and down her arm soothingly.

“At first, I couldn’t get a patient’s family to consent to experimental treatment. So, instead of administering a placebo, I gave him the real drug. When he had success with it, I was able to duplicate my findings in others. I was waiting for one to be rehabilitated back onto the streets.”

“Until I took you.”

She paused again before saying, “Yeah, before you took me.”

I shrugged, trying to keep my tone light. “Just curious. I know you’re into all that psych stuff. Figured you’d have some interesting stories.” I forced a chuckle, hoping it didn’t sound as hollow as it felt. “Hypothetically, what would you say if someone, uh, not me, said they were missing chunks of time? Waking up in places they didn’t remember going?”

Her expression shifted, concern flickering across her face. “Well,” Mya began, her tone careful but clinical, “if someone were experiencing memory gaps like that, it could point to a few things. Sometimes it’s trauma related; dissociative disorders, for example. The most extreme form would be Dissociative Identity Disorder, where a person’s mind essentially fragments into separate identities, to cope with whatever they’re going through.”

Even naked, I could see she had her doctor’s cap on.

DID. The term hung between us, a cold, clinical diagnosis that made my stomach twist. I couldn’t let her see how the words affected me, but inside, my mind was spinning. I thought back to Riccardo, and to all the missing pieces of my life that were suddenly making a horrific kind of sense.

“What do you do for someone like that?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. “How do you… help them?”

Mya looked at me, her eyes softening with something that might’ve been pity, or maybe just compassion. “It’s not easy. Therapy is the cornerstone; building trust between the identities, learning to cope with triggers, and working through the trauma that caused the fragmentation. Sometimes medication can help manage symptoms, but it’s not a cure. It’s a long, difficult process, and the goal isn’t necessarily to ‘get rid’ of the other identities, but to find a way for them to coexist peacefully.”

“What if that patient told you they felt like they were going crazy. Like they were an alien in their own body.” I stared at her sincerely.

“My best guess?” she whispered.

“Yeah, what would you tell the patient?”

“Well, first, I wouldn’t be so blunt about it. I would ask more leading questions to make an accurate diagnosis.”

I waved away all her professional mumbo jumbo with a gloved hand. “And your thought process on the diagnosis?”

“That there is a possibility this patient suffers from DID, more commonly known as Dissociative Identity Disorder.” Her calm voice helped me brace for the news.

“What?” I couldn’t fathom her response. “Wouldn’t a person know if they had other identities?”

She shrugged. “Everyone is different. While some patients know, more often than not they don’t, unless the other identities want to make themselves known.”

“How does a patient like that figure out how many identities they may have?” I gulped, dreading the answer.

“They need major psychological help before it spirals out of control. Without the proper doctors and medications, a disorder of this magnitude could affect the patient’s daily, and personal, life on every level.”

Shit, if my men found out I was battling voices in my head, they would kill me and take over. Loyalty only went so far, and no one wanted to work for a mad king. Not while my father was lying on his deathbed.

“Is there something you want to disclose to me, Sebastian? I promise this is a safe space.”

I almost snorted. There was no way I could tell good old Dr. Mya that I had possible multiple personalities. I sat thinking about all the times business should have gone south, and when I woke up the next day, everything was running smoothly.

I forced a smile, cutting her off before she could delve any deeper. “That’s… that’s interesting. Thanks for indulging my curiosity, Doc.” I rolled onto my side, facing her, but my thoughts were a million miles away. I needed to get out of this room, away from her knowing gaze, and the truths she was unraveling about me.

“Yeah, of course,” Mya said, watching me closely. She looked like she wanted to say more, to dig further, but I wouldn’t let her. Not today.

I pushed myself up, pretending like I hadn’t just asked her for the answers to my own nightmare. “You hungry? Let’s grab some breakfast. The maids probably laid Nonna’s feast out already.” I flashed her the most convincing smile I could muster, burying my fear beneath layers of charm.

Mya hesitated, clearly sensing the abrupt change in topic, but she didn’t push. Instead, she nodded, and we both climbed out of bed, each pretending that nothing had changed. But as I led her toward the door, I couldn’t help but glance back at the rumpled sheets, the spot where I’d woken up with Mya in my arms.

I knew I couldn’t let this go on. I was losing control, and sooner or later, everyone would see it. But for now, I’d keep pretending, pretending I was whole, pretending I was in charge. And maybe, if I was lucky, that illusion would be enough to hold everything together, at least for a little while longer. How people feared me even though I didn’t have a crazy reputation. The men listened to my orders without question, even when my father first fell ill. The blackouts. The panic and anxiety, bordering on paranoia.

I pulled myself from Mya, mumbling a fake excuse about washing my hair in the sink. I think she bought it, for sure. I’d used the same line to get off the phone many times with success. I walked into the bathroom, took off my gloves and clothes, and stood underneath the shower spray.

What are you doing living in my head?

Did you really need to ask that question?

The intrusive thought startled me.

“Who are you?” I asked aloud, the water drowning out the noise.

I’m you.

“No. No, you’re not.” I shook my head and grabbed my shampoo, trying to drown out his words.

Deny me all you want, but I’m still going to be here.

“You’re not me. What can I call you?” Maybe if I knew its name, I could talk it into leaving my body, or I could call the priest. He could exorcize this demon from my soul.

I see we still want to live in the land of delusion. Call me Riccardo, your other and, quite frankly, better half.

I scoffed aloud. This prick thought he was better than me. That wasn’t true. I was the original, and no one was better than me. Which was why I led my men to–

Did you lead them, or did I? His chuckle echoed in the back of my mind, long after I finished my shower.

I was going to have to rely on Dr. Mya Rivers to get rid of this pesky problem. I didn’t know how, nor really cared, as long as he was gone. I couldn’t run an empire with this in the back of my mind.

Hopefully I would find a solution soon.