Celine's POV
If his upbringing was the reason for his attitude, for his behaviour towards me and every other person, then he must have had such terrible days growing up. But what do I expect from a mafia family?.
Madison's fingers were warm, steady, the opposite of everything inside me. She dipped a cotton cloth into the bowl she had brought, wrung it out gently, and pressed it to my back.
I hissed.
The sting shot straight through me, but her touch was careful and soothing, almost reverent.
"I know, sweetheart," she murmured. "I know it burns. Just breathe. It will pass."
I shut my eyes, leaning slightly forward, gripping the edge of the vanity table.
The liquid she dabbed smelled faintly of mint and herbs. She opened a balm, and the smell spread to my nose, bringing a feeling of nostalgia.
"You're shaking," she said quietly.
"I'm cold," I lied.
"No, you are lying," she cut me off immediately.
