Page 53 of Deadly Don's Baby Contract

I don't move. I know Franco has eyes on him, but he's got his hands full, so I need to make sure that I know what Vito's planning before making a move. He's a skilled killer, and his movements, from crawling to scurrying, don't give any indication of who he intends to kill.

Marco is protected by his men, but they're unarmed, and all Vito needs is a clear shot. Franco is armed but exposed. Knowing Vito, it won't be enough to kill Franco. He wants to go out knowing that he's taken out his rival—the head of the Morelli organization, and that's Marco.

"Please, God, let me be right about this."

I frog march across the floor, keeping my eye on him and making sure that I have Marco in my periphery. His men see the attack coming, but with no guns, they can only attempt a full-on frontal assault.

They run at Vito, but he hits one out with the butt of the gun and shoots the other. By the time the other realizes what's going on, he's two feet away from Marco and has the gun trained on him.

He spits on Marco before yelling, "Rot in hell."

I have only seconds to make a decision that's not a decision at all. I hear the hammer of the gun click back as he squeezes the trigger, and I lunge in front of Marco.

A shot rings out, and my shoulder explodes as if it's on fire. Another shot rings out as the darkness claws at me.

I watch as Vito sinks to the floor in slow motion. Like a puppet in a marionette show I once saw as a child. I see Franco's face and body run toward me. Panic frames his face, but I'm fine. I'm oddly calm and at peace as Franco screams.

"Oh, God no!"

As I drift away, I hear Marco yelling at his men. "Get some help. For fuck's sake. She's dying! Get some help!"

Chapter 21

Franco

She was dead when we wheeled her into this hospital two days ago. I thought she was gone. My heart was already grieving the loss when they took her into surgery. Glass doors closed in my face, shutting me away from her. I was left to wait.

I am still waiting by her side, but she hasn’t woken up yet. I’m not good at waiting, it’s frustrating as hell. I stood next to her bed and wanted to shake her, to yell at her to just open her eyes. I don’t think the doctors would approve. They already don’t like the security and risk that comes with having a member of my family in the building.

Apparently, we make them nervous—with all our guns and violence. I am the nervous one. Every time a machine beeps or a doctor comes into the room, I hold my breath and pray.

“Mr. Morelli,” the doctor who has just looked at her charts greets me. “The baby is fine, strong and healthy. Aria is doing well. She lost a lot of blood. It’s going to take time for her body to recover.”

“How long?”

“It’s a bullet wound. I can’t give you an exact timeframe. But we are going to wake her up later today and see how she does without the heavy sedation.”

I’m both relieved and terrified at what to expect when she wakes up. We left things unresolved between us. I let my anger cloud my judgment. “Will she be able to go home soon?”

The doctor looks annoyed when I ask. I keep asking them, and she’s not even awake yet.

“Franco.” I get the glare. “Mr. Morelli. Your wife got shot. She’s pregnant and right now fragile. I will let you know when it’s safe for her to move to home care. But no, it will not be soon.”

I sigh with frustration and go back to holding her hand. "But she'll be fine."

"If we keep her under observation and take good care of her, she can make a full recovery. But it's important not to rush these processes," the doctor says before leaving. "Mr. Morelli," he says at the door.

I turn to look, but he's actually addressing Marco, who is standing in the doorway watching us.

"You're not welcome here," I grumble, squeezing Aria's hand.

"I've come to talk. Come have a cup of coffee with me." He doesn't move, and neither do I. "Please, Franco, I want to discuss Aria's position in our family."

I sigh and get up, kissing her fingers and walking out. We walk in silence to the shitty cafeteria, where we order two cups of coffee and sit down in one of the corners, Marco's guards nearby.

"You still want to exile her? If she goes, I go, Marco," I say.

"No, that's not what I want." He sighs. "She proved herself. She was willing to sacrifice her own life for us. She has a place in this family as your wife."

---