Page 12 of Unforgivable Ties

“Right...”

“I need to do work in the back. If you need me, press this intercom button,” he said, pointing towards a small black device on the wall. “If you can handle it by yourself, you don’t need to call.”

Everything inside me screamed that it was wrong. Even residents were still supervised, and yet here I was, a student assigned to the position of an unsupervised doctor in a crime-riddled underworld. The gravity of the situation began to sink in, wave after wave of anxiety washing over me.

What if I messed up? What would they do to me if I accidentally seriously injured an important mafia member? A shiver ran down my body—I didn’t want to know.

“Sorry, we have to keep the AC low in here,” Cesare said, misinterpreting why I had shivered. “Don’t forget to bring a jacket. Also, you can leave at eleven.”

“Ok,” I responded meekly, my mind spinning with a thousand thoughts. After he left, I took a deep breath to calm my racing pulse.

This would be fine. The room itself looked just like a normal medical office. If I didn’t think about the fact I was in a mafia warehouse, I could fool myself into thinking I had an internship at a hospital.

Time passed, and Cesare was right. It was slow. No one showed up, and I started drifting into my textbooks, the rhythm of the clock ticking in the background a soothing balm to my nerves. The hours slipped by like sand through fingers, unnoticeable, until my alarm for eleven pm went off.

That wasn’t so bad. And if it would pay my exorbitant tuition fees, I could deal with it. I grabbed my phone and quickly typed a message to Vincenzo, letting him know I had finished. A few moments passed before he responded.

Go home, then.

My temper rose at his curt dismissal. He dropped me off in a part of town I had never been to before and then expected me to find my way home in the middle of the night. I texted him back a nasty reply before shoving my books and school supplies back into my backpack.

If he didn’t get himself killed, I was going to do it myself.

Vincenzo

Iwasn’t completely heartless. I had one of the men from the warehouse discreetly tail Stephanie to the subway station to make sure she made it on safely. When she got off the trolley at her stop, I made sure Giuseppe was also taking a smoke break nearby so he could walk her home.

Still, she had given me an earful. A goddamn bible over text, and then she called me the next day to chew me out. It always amused me when she was angry with me. As a Capo, I had essentially forced her into working for us, yet she showed no fear towards me.

The way her face would turn as red as her hair when she was mad at me was a sight I secretly reveled in. Her brown eyes flashed with defiance, her lips curving into a stubborn pout that contrasted her sharp tongue. Cute and petite, she bristled like an indignant kitten when cornered.

I hadn’t seen her since then, so I was sure she wouldn’t be happy to see me. Not like I cared. Today, I needed her for a different reason.

I climbed the steps to her apartment complex, noticing that the stair I had damaged before was now in even worse condition. I knocked on her door, half expecting her to throw a pot at me when she answered.

She yanked the door open, her normal upset kitten look on her face. “I’m not on the clock. Go away.”

“I’m clocking you in,” I said. She tried to slam the door shut, but I easily caught it with my arm and made my way in.

“Cesare said he didn’t need my help today. It’s my day off,” she said, enunciating the last two words. “You should try it.”

“I’ve got too much work to do, Doc. The mafia keeps me really busy.”

“What do you want, then?” she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest, a look of resigned frustration etched on her face.

“I need you to go on a date with me,” I responded casually.

Her eyes widened in shock, a flush creeping up her face. “Have you completely lost your mind?” She spluttered, her response coming out as a high-pitched squeak.

She was confused, but I could tell she wasn’t repulsed by the idea. I was used to people physically recoiling away when they looked at me. I was naturally out of place by how far I towered over everyone, and my long hair and body covered in tattoos didn’t help me blend in.

“I’m going to dinner with an associate and his wife, and I need to bring a significant other,” I stated matter-of-factly, ignoring her incredulous look. “The man is big on family, so I can’t show up alone.”

“So get yourself a date, then,” she said, waving her hand dismissively.

“I’m not the type of guy to commit to a woman.”

It was true. The many women I had been with before were one-night stands. A relationship would just get in my way of work, and I didn’t need the drama and complications in my life.

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