Page 143 of Carnal

"Present company excluded," Papà adds.

Dr. Keinman chuckles then turns toward me. "Mr. Marino, if you insist on going home, I'll release you based on the conditions your father has discussed. But I would prefer you to stay."

I try to sit up again, and the pain accelerates through my abdomen. I grimace. "I'm good to go."

The doctor's voice grows stern. "You need rest, Mr. Marino. Your team of doctors need to make sure you move to prevent blood clots, but it's imperative to your recovery that you don't overdo it."

"I'm fine," I insist.

"If you cannot follow orders, I'll have to insist you stay here under our supervision," he threatens.

"I'm not—"

"He'll do exactly what is required. I'll make sure of it," Papà states.

Silence fills the air.

"The situation at home is as good as here. You have my word," Papà asserts.

Dr. Keinman sighs. "Okay, Mr. Marino. But don't make me regret this."

"I won't," Papà replies.

Dr. Keinman studies me a moment then squeezes my foot. "You got lucky, Mr. Marino. An accident like that could have been much worse. I wish you a speedy recovery."

I sniff hard, not saying anything. Until I get Pina back and make sure she's okay, I'm unsure if still being alive is a good thing.

"Thank you, doctor," Papà says.

The doctor takes one more look at us then leaves the room. It takes another hour to get discharged and then wheeled out of the hospital. I try to walk, but Papà orders me to sit in the wheelchair when the doctor insists.

Neither of us talks much on the way home. My body hurts everywhere, but it's nothing compared to the pain I feel in my heart. I clench my fists tight, attempting to settle the constant shaking in my gut, but it doesn't help.

Papà finally speaks. "We'll find her, Tristano."

I turn toward him. "I want him picked up."

"We'll get him. I give you my word," Papà vows, his dark eyes replicating how my soul feels right now.

The driver goes through the gates and parks at the front of the house. Papà's main guard for the house opens the back door. He greets, "Good to see you, Tristano. Boss." He nods to Papà.

I grunt, fight through the pain, and get out of the SUV. I refuse to let anyone help me walk up the stairs and into the house, but the six steps make me dizzy. I grip the rail, pushing myself to continue. Once inside, I glance at the grand staircase, overwhelmed. Still, I move toward it.

Papà grabs my arm, suggesting, "Don't be a fool. Take the elevator."

Putting my ego to the side, I obey, slowly moving to the tiny lift.

Papà follows me and pushes the button. The elevator moves up. The doors open, and he motions for me to go first.

Every step I take results in excruciating pain. I turn the corner to my wing and almost run into Bridget.

"Tristano! I'm so happy you're home!" she exclaims, tossing her arms around me.

I inhale a breath between clenched teeth, which only creates more pain in my ribs.

She winces. "Oh crap! I'm sorry."

Guilt eats me. "How was the wedding?"

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