Page 48 of Dangerous King
Better than… I stare at him. He's right, of course he's right. Still, it sounds so cruel.
"Julio!" Enrico calls the man I met earlier.
Wringing my hands, I watch Enrico holding the puppy. It's a safe hold, but it seems… callous.
"What's up, boss?" Julio appears.
"This one is hurt; he needs some stitches."
"On it." Julio moves to take the puppy.
"Just like that?" I can't help myself.
"Don't worry, Julio will numb the area and?—"
"But… " I interrupt, biting my lip when I realize how forward I'm being. But Enrico only smiles at me.
"What? You want to hold his paw?"
I know he means it sarcastically, but I nod eagerly. "I do."
Enrico and Julio exchange an unreadable look before Enrico says, "Alright then, let's go."
I don't remember ever having been inside a vet's office, but I've seen one on TV, and the room Julio is taking us to looks just like it. A sterile, metal table, tiled floor, and walls. Cabinets, some glass, filled with medication and instruments.
Julio puts the puppy on the much too large table, and I rush to his side to make sure he doesn't fall off. "Does he have a name yet?"
"Runt?" Enrico chuckles.
"Runt?" I echo, gently scratching behind his ear. "That's not very dignified."
"He doesn't need dignity," Enrico replies dryly. "He needs stitches."
Julio sets a tray on the table and opens a syringe. "Hold his paw, ragazza. This might sting."
I cradle the puppy's head and whisper softly to him as Julio injects him with what I assume is some anesthetic. The pup lets out a single, offended yelp and then collapses into my arms with a pitiful sigh.
"Drama king," I murmur, and Enrico snorts.
It doesn't take long before the puppy is out, and Julio shaves his fur to get a better look, then cleans and stitches the puppy. He's fast and efficient. My fingers tremble, but I keep stroking the puppy's fur. I don't look away. I won't. He deserves someone to stay with him through this.
"You got a soft spot," Enrico says.
I glance up. He's leaning against the counter, watching me. His arms are crossed over his chest, and his black eyes are unreadable. Camilla always looked at me like a nuisance she wanted to be rid of. In Giovanni's eyes, I was nothing but a hostage who needed to stay quiet. Roberto… there were a few times where I was sure he was going to do something to me… it was more of a feeling, a mean danger emanated from him that always made me uneasy. But I can't describe the way Enrico is looking at me.
"No," I lie. "I just don't like watching things suffer."
He tilts his head, eyes sharp. "Even runts."
"Especially runts."
A moment passes between us, thick with something I can't name.
Julio finishes and tapes a tiny bandage over the stitches. "All done. He's good."
"Can I hold him?"
"You're already holding him."
