Page 109 of Diavolo

The Mancinis crossed her mind. "I already had a target on my back before I became your wife."

Alessandro sighed. "I—"

She probed, "What?"

He looked away and didn't answer her. Alessandro didn't say another word for the rest of the drive. He simply held her hand, tightly, desperately, as his thoughts seemed to drift away from her reach. What the hell was going through her husband's mind? Alessandro's cold detachment was such a contrast to his optimism mere hours ago. Before their heated quarrel had driven him away. Sword and shield? What a sad, pitiful joke. All it had taken was a crazy bitch with a tiny gun to sever their bond. After tonight, the Vitales' alliance with the Berlusconis appeared good as dead as well.

They were still holding hands when Nils pulled up to their palazzo, but Elyse had never felt more distant from Alessandro. Her heart sank. Her shoulder ached. Her mood darkened even more. How were they going to bring down their enemies in this sorry, divorced state?

As Alessandro and Elyse walked into the grand foyer of their palazzo, Malina was waiting for them, wringing her hands anxiously. The moment the housekeeper noticed Elyse's red-stained towels, she hurried over with worried eyes, exclaiming, "Signora Vitale!Your shoulder!"

Elyse winced. "Don't worry, Malina. I'll be fine."

"Come with me," the older woman offered, "I will help you—"

Alessandro interrupted the housekeeper, "No need, Malina. My wife is hurt. I will be the one to assist her."

Malina's pale blonde eyebrows rose in approval. "Of course,Signor Vitale."

Elyse and Malina's eyes met briefly. The two women shared a speculative, conspiring look before the latter bowed out. As Malina's form retreated down the marbled hallway, a wave oflightheadedness overtook Elyse. The blood loss was getting to her. She swooned and stumbled a little. Instantly, Alessandro's hands came to her waist to steady her.

"I'm alright," Elyse mumbled as she righted herself, slipping from his grasp. "Thanks."

His eyes lingered on her, but, still, he said nothing. Together, Elyse and Alessandro retreated to the master bedroom. The strain and tension from their ride home continued to thrum from her husband. Once they reached their room, Elyse tried to block him out and let her medical training take over. Her injury was now throbbing quite painfully. Upon closer inspection, it appeared her graze wound featured a proximal corner with faint stippling, stretching almost two inches and one-sixteenth of an inch deep. Again, the damage wasn't too serious in light of everything else that could've gone wrong—like getting her brains blown out—but it needed to be sterilized and bandaged up to prevent infection. Alessandro cleared his throat.

"Sit," he said to her, nodding toward their bed, "and tell me what you need me to do."

"Can you get my medical bag?"

He immediately went to retrieve it. In layman's terms, she proceeded to walk him through each step. Alessandro helped Elyse disinfect her shoulder and apply the gauze. Through it all, her husband remained quiet. Intensely focused. He kept his touch meticulously gentle on her raw-looking pinkish, reddish, fissured laceration, wincing every time he made her wince as though it stung him, too. Alessandro then assisted Elyse in getting undressed. His hands and palms and fingers grazed her bare skin. Even while her green dress puddled to the ground, there was nothing sexual in his touch, only warmth and tenderness. He helped her to bed, and climbed in beside her.

At this time, her husband reached for her hand again, clasping it tightly in his palm. His other hand danced around her body,touching, feeling, but, again, not in a lustful manner. He avoided his favorite parts of her body—breasts, nipples, inner thighs. If anything, her husband only seemed to be seeking comfort? Elyse's brow creased at this turn. Was Alessandro ready to talk about their argument? And everything else that had gone to shit tonight?

She decided to try him. "Are you still... upset?"

"Sì."

"With me?"

"Sì."

At least, he was honest. She whispered shakily, "What can I do to make it up to you?"

Desperation clung to her voice. Alessandro rolled toward Elyse, taking care not to hit her injured shoulder. "Can wenottonight?"

Pain flashed across Elyse's face. "Alessio..."

His expression grew tight as well. "Go to sleep."

"But—"

"Per favore."

The plea in his voice nearly broke her.

"Fine," she relented sadly. "You win."

"Grazie."

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