Chapter 59: Droste Effect

The night air in Monza whispers through our open hotel window, carrying the distant sounds of excitement for tomorrow. I’m sprawled across the massive king-sized bed, still dressed in the fancy clothes Caterina picked out for dinner.

Caterina paces the length of the suite, her phone pressed to her ear as she speaks rapid-fire Italian into the receiver. Even without understanding the words, I can tell from the edge in her voice that she’s not happy. Her crimson eyes flash dangerously as she gestures with her free hand, her perfect blonde hair slightly disheveled from running her fingers through it in frustration.

“No, absolutely not,” she snaps in English, switching languages mid-conversation. “The McLaren cars need to develop transmission issues by lap thirty. Not before, not after.”

I should probably be more concerned about whatever it is she’s doing, but honestly, I’m too busy mourning the fact that we’re not having sex right now. It’s well past midnight, and by this time, we’d usually be tangled in the sheets, her mouth hot against my skin, her hands expertly manipulating my body into a quivering mess.

Instead, I’m watching her walk back and forth while Lara lounges on the living room couch of our massive suite, her wild red hair loose around her shoulders as she taps away at her iPad. Probably writing more of her abortion novel or whatever the hell that was. Maddy sits primly in an armchair by the window, her posture perfect even at this late hour, hands folded in her lap as she waits for instructions.

‘Why are they even here?’ I wonder, fidgeting with the edge of the comforter. ‘It’s not like Cat needs bodyguards in our own hotel room.’

Caterina barks something else in Italian, her voice carrying that dangerous silk quality that usually makes my heart race. Tonight, though, it just makes me sigh. I’m tired, the drugs she gave me earlier are wearing off, and without the chemical buffer, my hands are starting to ache.

I push myself up from the bed with a wince, my hands protesting the movement. While carefully avoiding getting in Caterina’s way, I shuffle into the living room area of our suite. Lara barely glances up as I approach the couch.

I lower myself onto the cushions, leaving a good three feet of space between us. The leather creaks beneath my weight as I settle in, my damaged hands resting awkwardly in my lap.

“Why are you still up?” Lara asks, not bothering to look away from her iPad. Her fingers continue tapping away at the screen, the blue light illuminating her face in the dimly lit room.

I shrug, then realize she isn’t looking at me. “I don’t want to sleep without Cat,” I admit, my voice quiet enough that Caterina won’t hear it over her angry Italian.

Lara’s typing pauses. She glances at me, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. “Boss trained you well, didn’t she?” She says with approval in her tone.

I don’t respond to that. Instead, my eyes drift down to her iPad screen. The document she’s working on has a title at the top: “Preg Killer.”

“New chapter?” I sigh, not really interested but desperately needing something to distract me from the ache in my hands.

Lara’s face lights up, her blue eyes gleaming with manic enthusiasm. “Nope. Brand new story!” She practically vibrates with excitement. “People told me I needed therapy after that last chapter, so I decided to make a story called ‘Chosen by the Maternity Exterminator System: I Level Up Every Time I Slay a Pregnant Woman and Become the World’s Most Fearsome Executioner.’”

She beams at me like she’s just announced she’s cured cancer, waiting for my reaction.

I let out a long, exhausted sigh. “Don’t you feel like you’re just pushing the joke way past the point where it’s interesting? Like, why stop there? At this point, you’re weirdly hung up on pregnancy, but you could go so much further.”

Lara’s manic smile falters slightly, her brow furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, there are worse things than killing pregnant women, you know?”

Her eyes narrow, annoyance flashing across her face. “Like what?” she challenges, iPad now forgotten in her lap.

“I don’t know... maybe a character who levels up by curing cancer patients and then killing them? Or someone who gets stronger by convincing people to commit suicide?” I suggest, the ideas flowing like cheap wine. “Or why not a teenager with a school shooting system?”

Lara’s face scrunches up in confusion. “School shooting? What the fuck is that?”

“You know, like Columbine,” I say, confused about how she wouldn’t remember.

“What’s Columbine?” she asks, her head tilted like a confused puppy.

I stare at her, blinking slowly as my brain tries to process what’s happening. “Wait, you seriously don’t know? Kids don’t take guns to school and shoot their classmates here?”

Lara bursts into laughter, throwing her head back so hard her wild red hair bounces. “What the fuck? No!” she wheezes between gasps. “Jesus Christ, Adam, that’s the most fucked up thing I’ve ever heard! And I write abortion power fantasy novels!”

I feel my face heating up, but I just shrug. It’s starting to sink in that I’m from a very different world than this one. COVID didn’t exist here, and apparently, school shootings don’t either.

“Well, then maybe you should do that kind of story,” I suggest, doubling down despite the warning bells going off in my head. “A woman who gets perks for shooting up school kids.”

“Adam, what the fuck?” Maddy’s voice cuts through the silence. She’s staring at me like like a disappointed mother, her usual composure completely shattered.

I furrow my brow, suddenly realizing the depth of my depravity. The drugs must be wearing off more than I thought, leaving me raw and unfiltered in the worst possible way.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble, shrinking into the couch cushions.

Lara’s eyes widen, but instead of being offended, a slow, maniacal grin spreads across her face. She puts down her iPad and leans forward, suddenly intensely focused.

“Wait, wait, wait,” she says, tapping her finger against her chin. “You might actually be onto something there, Adam. School shooting, huh?”

She narrows her eyes, staring at the ceiling like she’s watching her thoughts materialize in the air above her.

“Hmmmm, what would the title be, though?” she muses, her voice taking on that special unhinged quality that makes my skin crawl. “How about: ‘My Secret Weapon is a School Shooting System: I Was Bullied in High School So I Got Transported to Another World Where I Level Up By Massacring Classrooms’?”

I sigh, shaking my head. “I know it was my idea, but that just feels like a shock value rehash of the abortion thing. You’re just swapping fetuses for school kids. Is there any actual substance to your stories, or is it all just trying to be edgy?”

Lara blinks at me, clearly caught off guard by my criticism. Her manic energy dims slightly as she cocks her head to one side.

“Substance? My stories?” she asks as if I’ve wounded her. “That’s like asking if Asuka is a Chargers fan?”

‘That’s like asking if a bear shits in the woods.’

I nod in understanding. “Bolt up.” [A/N: I am not a Chargers fan.]

Caterina finally ends her call with an angry “Ciao!” before slamming her phone down on the marble countertop. Her crimson eyes land on me, narrowing slightly as she takes in my disheveled appearance.

“Baby,” she sighs, her voice softening despite the tension evident in her shoulders. “It’s going to be a long night for me. Why don’t I give you your meds and tuck you in?”

I shake my head, pushing myself up from the couch with my wrists. “I want to stay up with you.”

Caterina’s perfect lips curve downward into a frown. “Adam, I think you’ll be more of a distraction for me than not.”

“No, I’ll be quiet,” I promise, taking a step toward her. “I just... I don’t want to sleep alone.”

Her crimson eyes drift downward, lingering on the obvious bulge in my expensive pants. The corner of her mouth twitches, somewhere between amusement and frustration.

“I can only resist for so long,” she says, her voice dropping to that register that makes my spine tingle. “But I really need to get work done tonight. The race tomorrow is... complicated.”

I can see her point. My brain’s so fixated on the thought of Cat’s lips on mine, her hands exploring my body, that I’m practically vibrating with need. Just watching her pace around the room in that perfectly tailored suit makes my mouth water. If I was trying to work, she’d definitely be a problem.

“Yeah, I get it,” I sigh, trying to hide my disappointment.

“Come on, baby,” she says, her voice gentle as she crosses the room to me. She takes my arm, guiding me back to the bedroom with that possessive touch I adore. “Let’s get you comfortable.”

She plants me on the edge of the bed, her hands lingering on my shoulders. I watch as she reaches for the pill bottle on the nightstand, shaking a few into her palm.

As Caterina places the pills on her tongue, her crimson eyes locked with mine. She leans in, her perfect lips pressing against mine as she transfers the pills into my mouth through a deep, intimate kiss. Her tongue slides against mine, making sure the pills make their way down my throat.

I sigh contentedly as she pulls away, already feeling the warm tendrils of chemical bliss starting to uncurl in my bloodstream. These pill kisses are my favorite ritual, the sweet communion between us that sends me floating away on clouds of euphoria.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re drugged,” she murmurs, her fingers already working at the buttons of my shirt.

Her hand strips away each layer until I’m sitting there in just my underwear. She pauses, her crimson eyes drinking me in like I’m a fine wine she’s savoring.

“Pajamas or naked tonight?” she asks, her voice a silky purr that makes my skin tingle despite my growing drowsiness.

I look up at her through increasingly heavy eyelids. “If I sleep naked, is there... you know... a chance we might..?”

Caterina tilts her head, considering the question with theatrical seriousness. Her perfect lips curve into that predatory smile I’ve grown to crave.

“Hmm,” she muses, tapping one finger against her chin. “It really depends on how late I stay up dealing with this mess on the phone.”

I nod, the movement feeling exaggerated and dreamlike as the drugs take stronger hold. “Naked, then,” I decide, my voice thick. “Just in case.”

Her smile widens, revealing those perfect teeth as she hooks her fingers into the waistband of my underwear and slides them down my legs. Her crimson eyes roam over my exposed body with unabashed hunger, making me feel both vulnerable and cherished.

“So perfect,” she whispers, helping me under the covers with tender care. She tucks the blankets around me, her movements precise and loving.

Leaning down, she presses her lips against mine in a kiss that’s gentle compared to our usual passionate exchanges. It’s almost chaste but somehow more intimate for its simplicity.

“Goodnight, sweet prince, I love you.” She whispers against my lips.

I feel myself melting into the mattress, her words wrapping around me like a warm blanket. The drugs are hitting full force now, making everything soft and dreamlike. I watch through half-lidded eyes as she straightens up, her silhouette backlit by the bedside lamp, creating a halo effect around her golden hair.

“Goodnight, Cat, I love you too.” I manage to murmur before the darkness claims me completely.

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