Page 147 of Secret Baby for the Mafia Don
I try to sit up, but hands push me back down. “You’re not ready. You’re lucky to be alive. Don’t push it.”
The days blur together in a haze of pain and medication.
I drift in and out of consciousness, waking to Roman's concerned face or Dr. Salerno checking my bandage.
Sometimes I think I hear Gabriella's voice, but when I force my eyes open, she's never there.
"How long?" I croak when I finally manage to stay awake for more than a few minutes.
Roman glances up from his phone. "Five days. You lost a lot of blood."
Five days.
Five days of my life gone while Gabriella thinks I believed she betrayed me.
"I need to see her." I push myself up, ignoring the fire that rips through my chest.
"You need to rest," Roman counters, moving to my bedside. "The bullet missed anything vital, but you're still weak."
"What day is it?"
"Few days before Christmas.”
The urgency hits me like another bullet. I can't waste another day. "Help me up."
Roman's face hardens. "Marco?—"
"Either help me or watch me fall on my ass trying to do it myself."
He sighs, the sound of a man who knows he's fighting a losing battle. "You're the most stubborn son of a bitch I've ever met."
“I need things… call Maria… then I need to go to Antonio’s?—”
“Marco… fucking hell… If you want to leave, I’ll take you home.”
“I’m still the Don, right?”
“Fucker.”
With Roman's reluctant assistance, I swing my legs over the side of the bed.
The room tilts, but I grip the edge of the mattress until the spinning stops.
My body feels like it belongs to someone else, weak and uncooperative.
"This is a mistake," Roman mutters as he helps me stand.
Maybe it is.
But the only real mistake would be letting Gabriella go again.
Three times would be unforgivable.
Getting dressed is an exercise in patience and pain.
Roman has to help me with everything, and by the time I'm dressed in a simple button-down and slacks, sweat beads on my forehead from the effort.
"At least take the painkillers," Roman insists, holding out two pills.
