Page 36 of Mafia Heiress
For the second time I’m awoken in a foreign place, but this time I’m surrounded by all the guys. Ciro and Dante are sitting in a chair, hair all over the place, as if they’ve been running their fingers through it for a few days.
“You’re up,” Marcello says, grabbing my hand in his and placing a kiss on my knuckles. His eyes bleed with worry and I can’t help but touch his face. He leans into it and closes his eyes for a moment. This huge mountain of a man, puddy in my hands.
“How long have I been out?” I croak.
Vito rushes up with a cup of water and guides the straw to my mouth. The icy coolness quenches my throat and I greedily suck it all down.
“A day. You lost a lot of blood even though Dante patched you up good. There was a bleed during surgery,” Ciro explains, standing at the end of my bed grabbing my foot through the blanket.
“Fuck. Are my parents okay? And Annette?” I ask.
“I’m sorry, love, but Annette didn’t make it. Her wounds were too great,” Marcello replies.
A deep consuming sadness hits me, the thought of never seeing her again is all a bit too much. A torrent of tears stream down my face and I clutch my chest as it cracks open.
“Don’t. It’s okay. She’s at peace with the angels.” Marcello leans over and peppers my face with kisses. As much as I didn’t know I needed his comfort, I sink into it.
A warmth wraps around my legs and my hand slips into someone else's as I cry, letting it all flow out of me. The stress and the rage I feel pouring out of me before I can stop it.
“We have something else to discuss,” Vito says, speaking for the first time since I opened my eyes.
“What?”
I wipe the tears from my face and accept the outstretched tissue from Dante. Sniffling, I look at the grim faces staring at me.
“Your father doesn’t want you anywhere near the Vitucci brothers. He says you’re done.”
A burning fire lights inside of me and the thought of sitting on the sidelines after all I’ve done makes me want to rip my IV out and storm into the clubhouse, guns blazing.
“I see what you’re thinking and it’s a bad idea. Maybe it’s time to let him do his thing. We’ve pissed him off enough,” Dante says.
I pull myself up to a sitting position, with Marcello’s help. “He doesn’t get to decide this. I don’t care if he thinks I can’t handle it. You’ll take me to him right now or you forfeit your stake in the competition.”
They seem a little stunned by my proclamation, but don’t argue. I’m not in a place to try to coax their egos or make them feel better about themselves. This is my right and I’m not about to let it go.
“How are you feeling?” the doctor asks, pushing aside the privacy curtain that hides us from the rest of the bunker.
“I’m fine. I need to get out of here, so can you take this out?” I ask, holding up my hand with the IV inside of it.
“You can’t leave. You’re still healing and your blood needs to rejuvenate itself.”
“Give me a transfusion then. I’m leaving here today whether or not you agree to it, so I suggest you come to terms with it real fast.”
Anger flashes behind his eyes at my defiance, but he doesn’t say anything else. He marches to a chest of draws opposite of my bed and pulls out some materials before disappearing.
He comes back with a bag of blood and begins to hook it up to my IV, a scowl on his face the whole time.
“This is temporary. You’re going to have to rest after you do whatever it is you’re going to do.”
I grunt in approval and watch as he grabs my hand, a little too rough, switching out the tube of fluids for the blood. The crimson liquid flows through the tube and reaches my hand in seconds.
I lay back and close my eyes waiting to feel better. The coolness of the blood makes my hand tingle, but I become used to it after a few seconds.
A brush of air makes me snap my eyes open and all I see is the doctor's face in mine, too close for anything professional.
“If you were mine, I’d bend you over and paddle the defiance out of you,” he whispers, so low I think I misheard him.
He licks his lips before pulling back and nodding to the guys, strolling out past the curtain. My heart is beating a mile a minute as I watch him leave, perfect butt in tight jeans.
