Page 57 of Charming Villain

“Luciano?” She gasps, voice trembling. She tries to sit up, but an alarmed nurse inside the room jumps to hold her down gently. Gianna’s face crumples, tears welling up as she sees the blood on my bandages and the fresh stains on my hospital gown. “Oh my God, you’re bleeding?—”

I cross the distance in two strides, dropping to my knees beside her bed, ignoring the stab of pain that radiates from my abdomen. I reach for her hand, which is clammy and shaky in mine. The relief of her warmth under my fingers slams into me like a wrecking ball.

“Are you okay?” I can barely force out the words. “Dante told me you were—God, Gianna, he said you might?—”

Her lower lip quivers, and tears spill down her cheeks. “I don’t know. The doctor said it’s too soon to tell. There was bleeding, but she said my hormone levels were still rising. It’s too soon to find a heartbeat.” Her voice fractures on the last words.

A rush of fragile hope surges through me. I bow my head, swallowing back a sob. My entire life has been one blood-soaked confrontation after another, but this fear is on another level altogether. “I’m so sorry,” I say, gripping her hand so tightly I worry I might hurt her. “If I’d protected you better, if I hadn’t let you run?—”

“Stop,” she whispers. “Don’t do this. You saved my life in that motel room. You nearly died because of me.”

She’s crying harder now, a broken sound that tears at my chest. I rise partially to plant a kiss on her temple, wincing at the jagged pain that flares when I move. “Worth it,” I breathe against her hair. “I’d do it again. A thousand times if I had to.”

The nurse hovers behind me, practically wringing her hands in alarm. “Sir, you need to lie down. You’re bleeding through your bandages.”

Gianna’s eyes widen, noticing the crimson blot seeping along my midsection. “Luciano, please. You’ll rip your stitches. I can’t lose you. Not now. Not—” She breaks off with a ragged sob, and that single sound is enough to physically crush me.

“Shh,” I murmur, cupping her face with my free hand. Her skin is softer than I remember, her tear tracks warm under my thumb. “You won’t lose me. We’re done losing each other.”

She searches my gaze, then she nods. Gently, almost reluctantly, she draws her hand from mine. “Go. Let them fix you or do whatever they have to do. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

A wave of dizziness hits me, and I grip the edge of her bed for balance. My side is on fire, and every heartbeat sends a jolt of agony through my torso. I sense Dante at my shoulder, a quiet pillar of support, arms ready to catch me if I fall. The nurse sets a hand on my forearm, giving me a firm look that brooks no argument.

I open my mouth to protest, but Gianna squeezes my wrist. “Please, Luc. I need you alive.”

The words slice through any bravado I might have. God, I love her, though I’ve never said it. It’s there in every ragged exhale, every tremor in my fingers as they brush her cheek. “I’ll be back,” I whisper, the promise laced with my desperation. “I’m not letting you face this alone.”

A faint smile curves her lips, pained but genuine. “I know.”

With Dante’s help, I force myself upright. The nurse frantically ushers me toward a wheelchair that’s materialized out of nowhere. I sink into it, hissing through my teeth, still not taking my eyes off Gianna. She holds my gaze, and I can’t look away. It feels like if I blink, something terrible might happen. Dante takes hold of the wheelchair’s handles, guiding me out of the room.

The hallway is chaos—staff members whispering, monitors chiming, anxious glances thrown my way. The overhead lights make me squint. Dante wheels me back through the corridors, following the nurse’s quick pace. Pain thrums in every nerve, but it pales compared to the terror that still grips my heart. Gianna might lose our child. She might lose the precious life we created, all because of what I did to her in pursuit of revenge.

The nurse ushers us into a small exam room down the hall, urging me onto a bed that crinkles with plastic liners. I bite back a groan at the movement. She and another staff member peel back the edge of my gown, revealing the soaked bandage wrapped around my abdomen. The wave of fresh blood makes Dante suck in a harsh breath.

“Damn it, Luc,” he mutters. “You couldn’t have waited ten fucking minutes so the nurses could have brought you over here without you blowing a stitch?”

I glare at him weakly. “I’d do it again,” I repeat, voice slurred with pain. “Don’t pretend you wouldn’t do the same if it were Adalina in that room.”

He doesn’t refute it. Instead, he stands aside and lets the professionals do their job. Time warps again, dissolving into a series of bright lights and urgent voices. They clean and re-suture part of the wound, talking in clipped, practiced tones about how lucky I am, how I’m pushing my body too hard, how I need to rest or risk infection. I tune them out. All I can see is Gianna’s tearful face behind my eyelids; all I can hear is her voice saying, “I need you alive.”

Eventually, the staff finishes patching me up. My side is wrapped in fresh gauze and reinforced with an even tighter band of medical tape. The pain recedes to a dull roar, helped by something they injected into my IV line—when did they even hook it back up?

Before I can protest, I’m back in a hospital bed, another room entirely—this one with large windows overlooking the twinkling lights of the city outside. It’s quiet, and the overhead lamps are dimmed. A nurse checks my vitals and warns me in no uncertain terms that if I pull another stunt like that, they’ll have me strapped down for my own good. I barely acknowledge her. My mind is too busy spinning with worry for Gianna.

When the nurse leaves, Dante lingers, hands shoved in his pockets. He looks like he’s about to lecture me again, but something in my face must dissuade him. “So what now?” He asks gently.

A thousand answers flood my mind. Now, I fix everything that’s broken between us. Now, I beg Gianna’s forgiveness for every way I failed her. Now, I hold her hand through whatever the doctors say about the baby. Now, I vow never to hurt her again. Now, I become the man she deserves, not just the one who wants her.

“I stay here until they say I can move, and then I go back to her. If they try to stop me…” I shrug, ignoring the burn in my abdomen. “They can try.”

Dante shakes his head, but a faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “You’re a stubborn bastard. Always were.” His smile fades. “If the worst happens…”

The words hang in the air, too terrible to speak. My gut clenches. If the worst happens and we lose the baby, Gianna will be devastated. I don’t know how we’ll survive that. But I’ll be damned if I won’t do everything to help her through it.

“We face it together,” I say firmly. “Whatever the outcome.” My throat tightens, but I force the words out. “I love her, Dante.”

A pause. We were never ones to talk about love. Our family dealings rarely left room for open sentiment. But I see a flicker of understanding in his eyes. “I know,” he says, voice quiet. “I’ve known for a while.”

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