Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 126682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
His lips quirk. “You sound like Sav.”
“Then you know I’m right.”
“I’ll do what must be done.”
Tipping my head toward the door, I say, “Get some sleep when you’ve spoken to everyone. You’ve been up all night.”
The grin that stretches his lips looks creepy in a dangerous way. “We’ll get them. They’ll pay.”
I can’t help but shiver.
“Call me if you need me,” he says. “Or if there’s any changes with Sav.”
I try to smile. “You’ll be the first to know.”
I wait until he’s gone and then I slowly ease myself off the bed. It’s still uncomfortable to walk, but the sooner I exercise, the sooner I’ll grow stronger and heal. I pull on the pajamas and bath robe Dante got for me and stick my feet into the slippers.
When I pass the lounge, the men dump their paper cups in the trash can and follow me.
The progress to the ICU is slow. I have to take small steps and walk up the wheelchair ramp instead of using the stairs. At the nurse’s station, I explain who I am and ask for Saverio’s room number.
Two men stand at attention in the hallway not far from Saverio’s door.
One of them blocks my way. “Mr. De Luca doesn’t want visitors.”
“I’m his wife,” I bite out.
“I know who you are, Mrs. De Luca.”
“Then step aside.”
At my cutting look, he falters. He glances at his friend before lowering his head and letting me pass.
I open the door with my heart in my throat. And then I stop dead. Nothing could’ve prepared me for the sight of Saverio’s battered and bandaged body. A gauze covers the right side of his face. I think about what Dr. Loter told me but push those thoughts down when a sob threatens to tear from my chest.
At the click when I close the door, Saverio turns his head. His gaze flares for the briefest of moments before it hardens with the set of his mouth.
It hurts me to see his body so broken. It hurts to know why he’s broken. Yet he still looks like the invincible man I got to know. I have to believe it. It has to be true, because I can’t live with the alternative, knowing it’s my fault.
“Saverio,” I whisper.
Instead of answering, he faces the wall.
“Sav,” I say again, inching closer.
“Go away, Anya,” he rasps. “There’s nothing here for you.”
Chapter
Five
Saverio
* * *
My wife comes closer.
I can’t see or hear her, but I can feel her presence.
My wife.
Fuck.
She’d been my wife for all of one second before bullets and grenades tore us apart.
But that single second is enough. It has to be.
Her voice comes from the side of the bed, her mere breath on my arm forcing my skin into goosebumps.
“Sav.”
My feisty treasure has always been hard-headed. Trust her not to listen when I tell her to leave things she shouldn’t poke in peace.
“I named her Claire,” she says.
Goddamn.
She chose the name I wanted.
My chest swells with unbearable pride while my lungs simultaneously cave in on me. Can anything hurt and please more at the same time?
Reverence carries on her tone. “She’s beautiful.”
I don’t doubt that for a minute. She’ll look like her mother—a little Claire with red hair and cute freckles. A huge fucking ache bleeds out from the cavity between my ribs. I’m already mourning everything I’m going to miss out on. All because of Raphael Morelli. I’ll make him pay if it’s the last thing I do.
“Luigi and Giorgio are dead,” she says softly. “Along with most of their men.”
Unable to stand the sweet sound of her voice any longer, I say, “I know. Dante informed me.”
The hurt is evident in her words. “So you saw him, but you didn’t want to see me.”
Fuck me if her pain doesn’t stab straight into my gut.
I turn my face to her when I wanted to spare her the sight. What does she see? Gauze and tape. At least they hide the destruction. She doesn’t have to look at the damage. Not yet. If I have my way, she’ll never witness the empty socket in my skull. I can’t let her see that. I don’t have the stomach for it.
She trails her fingers over my forearm. “I’m so sorry.”
Every hair on my skin stands on end.
“I wanted to say thank you—” Her voice cracks. It takes her a moment to speak again. “Thank you for saving us.”
“You don’t have to thank me, tesoro.” I’m careful to keep all those emotions stirring in my chest out of my voice. “I’ll do it all over again.”
“You’re going to be all right,” she says with a sniff and a whole lot of determination.
That little pep talk is more for her benefit than for mine. It comes from guilt, not from love, and I don’t want or need her guilt.
I fix my gaze on a spot behind her, anywhere but on her perfect face. It hurts too much to look at her. Because I know what’s going to happen when I get out of here.