Wicked Husband-Chapter 41 - 40

Eileen choked back the details. How could she describe her mother’s look of disgust, the glint of anger that sent scissors flying at her eyes?

"I almost got stabbed in the eye," she mumbled, the memory heavy on her tone.

Diego must have sensed that she was hiding the truth, but he didn’t press her for more. Sipping her milk quietly, Eileen asked him in a weary tone.

"Diego, aren’t you afraid of anything?"

"I’m sure I am. I have fears, too."

Naturally, she thought it was just a lie to comfort herself. But Diego, his gaze unwavering, continued, "I feared defeat."

"Defeat?"

"Yes... We train, strategize, fight... but sometimes, no matter what, you lose. Again. And Again." He ran a hand through his hair, a fleeting gesture that underscored his words.

"The fear, it suffocates you. The sight of your comrades crumbling, the suffocating weight of loss, the endless darkness ahead... His voice trailed off, raw and unfiltered, laying bare the wounds of his past.

"It was quite a tough time for me, so I got through it one by one, even when it seemed unbearable."

He chuckled playfully and pulled his ear with his hand. With all accessories removed due to work, his ear bore only multiple piercing marks.

"I added tattoos one by one because piercings weren’t enough. At that time, I didn’t know, but looking back now...

Diego carefully pondered his words for a moment. After much consideration, he selected the most accurate term to describe his actions.

"A form of self-harm," Diego admitted, his voice laced with a hint of regret. The confession hung heavy in the air, catching Eileen completely off guard. She stared at him, speechless. Her mind reeled, trying to reconcile the carefree Diego she knew with this glimpse of a darker past.

"It’s okay now. It’s all in the past."

He smiled, indicating that he no longer added more piercings or tattoos. Eileen tucked her lips inward slightly, then asked quietly.

"How did you get better?"

"I whined," Diego replied, mimicking the act of whimpering with two fingers running across the table.

"When it got tough, I’d whine to Lotan, Senon, or Michele about when we’d ever win. Then, we’d all sit together, brainstorming how to win. I’d blabber nonsense about resigning as a knight if we didn’t win the next battle to the Grand Duke. After that, His Grace always made sure we won."

Claiming to have gotten better thanks to that, Diego extended the fingers that had been running across the table toward Eileen. Then he lightly tapped the glass she was holding.

"When I was young, I thought I was the best in the world, but there were many things I couldn’t do alone."

Eileen watched as his finger touched the glass; her lips trembled slightly.

"Diego, I... want to change, too," she confessed, revealing her embarrassing desire to him.

Diego, showing his affection, didn’t mock Eileen’s desire. Instead, he offered sincere advice.

"How about styling your bangs, like we talked about in the dressing room?"

"Wouldn’t my eyes still look too ugly?"

"What?! Absolutely not. Both I and His Grace adore your eyes so much."

Come to think of it, Cesare had asked Eileen to lift her bangs in the garden earlier because he wanted to see her eyes. Even when looking at her bare face, he didn’t show any disgust.

"If you cut your bangs, His Grace will really appreciate it," Diego gently encouraged Eileen, giving her a bit of confidence. Even if they seemed ugly to her, if Cesare liked them, she wanted to cut her bangs. However, there was still a hurdle.

"But I’m scared."

Just the thought of scissors approaching made it hard to breathe. Her body trembled severely, and her vision even darkened. If Diego hadn’t been there earlier, she might have fainted.

"Should I take sleeping pills before cutting? There’s a strong one available. It’s in the lab, though." When Eileen suggested a somewhat drastic method, Diego grimaced. A thoughtful silence fell as he crossed his arms and considered the problem for a moment. With a determined set to his jaw, he grasped the table firmly and declared, "Let’s seek His Grace’s help."

***

Nearing the Duke’s residence, Eileen remained cautious. With a subtle tug on Diego’s sleeve, she voiced her concern.

"Is it really okay? He must be busy. Is it okay to meet?"

Doubt gnawed at her. Perhaps this could have been resolved more efficiently at the salon.

In stark contrast to Eileen’s anxieties, Diego exuded confidence.

"Just trust me. He will definitely meet you."

He assured her a meeting and the Grand Duke’s appreciation. His unwavering optimism, however, only fueled Eileen’s anxiety.

Despite her hesitation, Diego steered the military vehicle towards the Duke’s residence. Soldiers at the iron gate snapped to attention, saluting crisply before opening the path.

The vehicle zipped across the manicured garden, arriving at the imposing mansion in a blink. As Diego helped Eileen out, a flurry of household staff materialized, surprised by the unexpected visitors.

"Is His Grace available?"

"He’s in his study."

With purpose, Diego marched towards the study, Eileen trailing anxiously behind him.

"Is this really okay? What if he’s busy with work in his study?"

"Then he’s busy."

"But what if he gets angry..."

Diego cut her off, a hint of amusement in his voice. "His Grace wouldn’t get angry at you, even if the sky cracked open."

He paused, a playful glint in his eye. "Have you ever seen him truly angry?"

A small "Ah" escaped Eileen’s lips. Not a single memory of true anger surfaced. Fear, a familiar tremor, ran through her.

"Your Grace, it’s Diego."

"Your Grace, it’s Diego," Diego announced, already pushing open the study door before a response came. He gestured for Eileen to enter, his confidence a stark contrast to her trepidation.

"Also, Miss Eileen is here with me."

Before Eileen could formulate a greeting, she found herself face-to-face with Cesare. A surprised gasp caught in her throat.

"Ah, Your, Your Grace."

Cesare, engrossed in paperwork, looked up with a flicker of surprise that morphed into something else—a hint of something sharp in his gaze. He studied Eileen for a long moment, the silence stretching taut. At that moment, Eileen realized something. She had never once sought him out before he called for her. Yet she was always in a position where she could only come when summoned. If it weren’t for Diego today, she wouldn’t have dared to come on her own.

Sitting at his ebony desk, he narrowed his eyes and set down his pen with a deliberate finality. He rose, his movements measured, and approached Eileen, towering over her. After a long scrutiny, his hand reached out and grasped her chin, his red eyes boring into hers.

"Who troubled you?" His low rumble sent a heat wave flushing through her. Without a word, Cesare seemed to absorb her unease, his gaze seeming to pierce the very core of her worry.

With her face held captive in his grasp, Eileen managed a soft reply, a barely there shake of her head.

"No one."

"What’s the matter then? Didn’t you like the wedding dress? Shall we make a new one?"

A flicker of desperation crossed Eileen’s face. Her eyes darted towards Diego, searching for support. He only offered a helpless shrug, his hand forming an ""X"—she had to face this alone.

Unable to avoid it, Eileen reluctantly opened her mouth.

"I want to... cut my bangs."

"You want to?"

"If Your Grace could help... It’s a very simple task, and it will only take a moment. About ten minutes."

After fervently trying not to inconvenience him too much, Eileen finally made her request.

"Could you stay with me while I cut my hair?"

In the end, the words tumbled out in a rush. Though she’d steeled herself for rejection, the thought of being denied in front of him sent a jolt of anxiety through her. Butterflies erupted in her stomach, and her throat tightened.

’He’ll probably say no, as expected.’

However, why did the question even arise? Cesare, a hint of amusement dancing in his red eyes, let out a low chuckle.

"Are you asking me to hold your hand because you’re scared?"

The question struck her. Holding his hand hadn;t even crossed her mind. She’d simply craved his presence, the comfort of him being there.

But wouldn’t having his hand in hers be even better?

A shy smile, barely there, played on her lips as Eileen whispered, "Thank you..."

The words were barely out of her mouth before Cesare reached for her hand. His grip was firm, a surprising jolt that traveled up her arm, sending shivers down her spine. Eileen flinched instinctively, like a deer caught in headlights.

Cesare’s lips quirked into a playful smile. He tilted his head, his red eyes gleaming with amusement. "Why? Why aren’t you holding it now?"

Eileen stammered, cheeks burning, "Oh, no! Please do as you wish!"

Only after her flustered reply did it dawn on her—he was teasing her. Cesare escorted Eileen as if they were a newlywed couple. Walking hand-in-hand with Cesare through the ducal palace felt surreal. It felt as if they were truly a newlywed couple.

***