Page 98 of King

His dad chuckles. “Well, then she’s going to stitch you up with no pain relief. It’s your choice.”

I’m not sure when Giovanni decided to trust me, but it’s clear that something has changed.

Romeo sits on the sofa, looking relieved, but angry at me. He keeps glaring at me and shaking his head. I did five neat stitches over his arm, then disinfected the wound again and bandaged it up.

I’m so glad I could help. I’ve finished repacking the first aid kit, but when I try to stand, my head spins and I fall backwards.

Giovanni is quick and moves to catch me in his arms.

“What happened - “ he stammers, but with his hand wrapped around my waist he fingers feel the wet, sticky blood, still oozing from my side.

“Fuck.” He growls. “She’s losing blood.”

“Let her die.” Santino snaps. “Fabio told me what one of the attackers said - we all know it was her.”

Giovanni lays me down on the sofa. I grumble that I’m fine and try to sit up, but he pushes me back down.

Santino leans over his father, trying to see if my wound is bad enough to please him.

“Why are you helping her?” he huffs to his father. “She’s the one who caused all of this. Let her die.” He says again.

Giovanni stands up and grabs Santino. He yanks him forward, slapping a backhand across his face. “One more fucking word.” He growls. “She saved my life today. She fought right at my side. She protected this family, and she protected me. I decide who we trust - and I trust her. And it’s time for you to fucking accept that once and for all.”

Santino is staring at his father in shock. His eyes are wide, and his brows raised high.

He reaches up to touch his face, stinging from the slap.

“You’re making a mistake.” He murmurs.

Giovanni pushes him away. Santino stumbles backwards.

“This conversation is over. If you aren’t going to help, then get out of my sight.”

Santino tugs his shirt straight and turns towards Romeo. “Let’s go.” He snaps. They leave the room, marching upstairs, and Giovanni turns his attention back to me.

His hands are gentle as he peels away the torn edges of my dress, around the wound in my side.

Quietly he reaches for the scissors and cuts away the fabric, enough so that he can see what’s going on.

“Is it bad?” I ask, as the adrenalin simmers down and pain begins to throb through me.

“You’ll live.” He chuckles. “But you need stitches.”

“Damn.” I sigh.

“I can do them.” He reassures me.

“Really?” I ask, confused. “Then why did you let me do Romeo’s stitches - why didn’t you do them?”

“Because - “ he sighs. “I trust you, Zina.”

I swallow away the tears lumping in my throat.

“You - you believe that it wasn’t me?”

He lets out a slow breath, pouring disinfectant over my skin that fizzes as it cleans the wound. I wince, clenching my teeth together.

“I’ve been thinking about everything that happened. I’ve been thinking about all the moments with you. Nothing you’ve done has given me any reason not to trust you. It’s only fear that’s pushed me away from you. Fear, and letting other people’s opinions cloud my judgement. I have no reason to doubt you, no evidence against you.”

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