The recurrent nightmares

It didn't take long for them to arrive at Dylan's villa. Gianna quickly maneuvered him out of the car, using all her strength to help him stumble through the front door and into his bedroom. She gently lowered him onto the bed. She sat down beside him with a calculated grin on her face.

Dylan muttered incoherently, loosening his tie. His restlessness was palpable.

"Dylan," she said in a sultry voice, her fingers lightly brushing against his chest as she began to unbutton his shirt, one button at a time. "Let me help you remove your clothes."

Dylan suddenly caught her hand and opened his eyes, startling her and breaking the spell of confidence she had just moments ago. He blinked frequently, trying to focus on her. "Gianna!" His voice was tinged with confusion. "What are you doing here?"

"You were drunk," Gianna purred, inching toward him. "I brought you home. Let me help you take off your clothes." Her fingers moved to his shirt once more, but Dylan abruptly sat up and got off the bed, his steps unsteady.

"It's late," he muttered, massaging his temples to fight the pounding headache. "You should leave." Despite his inebriation, Dylan wasn't entirely lost. He felt an unease crawl up his spine at her proximity.

Gianna, undeterred, inched toward him, her arms snaking around his waist. "Dylan, I want to stay here with you," she insisted. "I'll take care of you, fulfill your needs, and give you the love you deserve."

"Gianna!" he grumbled as he pushed her hands away. "Leave!"

"Why?" Gianna demanded, her heart squeezing painfully at his rejection. "Why can't you love me?"

He grimaced, the pressure in his head intensifying as dizziness took over. Staggering, he nearly lost his balance.

In a flash, Gianna rushed to his side and held onto him tightly, steadying him.

"You can't even stand," she mumbled worriedly. "No one is here to take care of you. Let me stay." She put her hand on his face and turned him toward her.

"I don't need you here," he grumbled, pushing her hand away, his tone turning cold. His expression hardened. "Don't force me to be harsh with you, Gianna. Leave!"

Her heart clenched at the bitterness in his tone, tears filling her eyes. "Why are you pushing me away? You know how much I care for you. I can be the wife you need, the one who loves and supports you." She again reached out and held his hand.

Dylan's annoyance intensified. Every cell of his body screaming at him to drive her away. But he suppressed his anger. "I never asked for that."

His words cut through her like a blade. Gianna clenched her fists on her sides as she demanded, "Is it because of Ava? Do you have feelings for her?"

"No," Dylan snapped instantly. "I don't have any feelings for her." He grimaced, his face growing darker. "She is just a tool to get even with Thomas Williams."

"Then why won't you let me stay by your side?" she whined, trying to break through the wall Dylan had built between them.

Dylan turned to her, his expression softening. His tone was not as harsh as before. "I promised your brother that I would always take care of you. And I'm keeping my word. You're like a sister to me."

Gianna didn't want to be seen as his sister. She had long dreamed of being his wife. But despite the pang of disappointment, a spark of hope remained in her chest. As long as he cared about her and hated Ava, she still had chances to win him over.

Her lips curved into a soft smile, concealing her frustration. "Okay, I understand. But, Dylan…it's late. Can I stay here tonight? Uh – I'll sleep in the guest room."

Dylan hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of her staying. He didn't want her here, but he couldn't bring himself to outright refuse her. He sighed, resigned. "Alright. Go and rest."

"Thank you. Good night, Dylan." She, with a sly smile on her face, walked out, closing the door behind her.

Dylan collapsed back onto the bed, exhaustion overtaking him. It didn't take long before sleep claimed him, but it offered no peace. Nightmares began to swirl in his mind, disjointed and unsettling, tugging him deeper into the void. Distorted voices echoed, pulling at the edges of his consciousness.

'Mr. Williams is innocent. Something is wrong…' A voice shouted from the shadows, but Dylan couldn't place it. His forehead creased as the tension gripped him, his body twitching as he wrestled with the twisted images playing out in his mind.

He wanted to come out of the nightmares, but it seemed as if he was trapped there, unable to find the exit.

The next scene disturbed him further.

Ava lay motionless in the pool of blood. Dylan's heart shook at the scene. 'Ava! Wake up,' he yelled, but she didn't move. 'What are you doing lying there?'

Dylan's heart thundered in his chest. With trembling hands, he reached out. Just as his fingers brushed her cheek, her eyes flew open, piercing him with an icy, terrifying glare.

'You killed me,' she hissed. 'Are you happy now?'

With a gasp, he opened his eyes frantically, dragging him back into the present. He sat bolt upright in bed, his heart pounding in his chest as the remnants of the nightmare clung to him.

The image of Ava lying in blood haunted him, refusing to fade.

'Why am I having such a nightmare?' he mused inwardly, still shaking from the horror. Was it a foreshadowing of what might come?

The mere thought of Ava getting hurt tore at his heart. He clutched his chest as a sharp pain spread through him. Sweat beaded across his forehead, his breathing ragged.

In the meantime, Gianna entered the room without knocking with a glass of juice in her hand. But when she saw Dylan curled up on the bed, panic gripped her. Placing the glass hastily on the side table, she hurried over to him.

"Dylan!" she exclaimed. "What is happening? Are you alright?" Her eyes frantically scanned his features, her fingers trembling as she held him. "Why are you so pale?"

Dylan recoiled from her touch, his expression tense. "I'm fine. It was just a nightmare," he muttered, pushing himself up from the bed. His hand pressed against his forehead as the dull throb of his headache lingered, the remnants of his dream still haunting him.

He glanced back at her over his shoulder and asked, "Why did you come here?"

"I…" Gianna fumbled for words, her eyes dropping to the glass of juice on the side table. "I made some juice for you. I thought it would help with your hangover."

He appreciated the gesture, but he didn't like her coming to his room unannounced. "Okay. But don't forget to knock next time. I don't like anyone barging into my room like that."

With that, he went into the bathroom.

Gianna's mouth twisted in annoyance as she watched the closed door. "Why is he so cold to me?"