Papà’s sentence was cut off when another knock at the door interrupted us. The same middle-aged doctor who tended to me before stepped inside.
“Hello, Miss Bellafiore,” he said, coming to my side. “How are you feeling?”
I shifted into a more comfortable position in my bed. “Tired and in a bit of pain.”
“Understandable.” He pulled off his stethoscope from around his neck. He did a quick examination. Checked my breathing, heart rate, eyes, and my head. “The good news is that your neurological assessment is normal and there’s no sign of a concussion. Over the next few days, I’d like you to rest as much as you possibly can and take time off work and school to allow your bruises and scrapes to heal. For now, I’d like to keep you here a little longer and repeat some bloodwork. If everything looks fine, you can be discharged later today.”
Relief poured into me. I couldn’t wait to go home. “Sounds good.”
He smiled and scribbled on a piece of paper. “Here’s a prescription for painkillers and antibiotic ointment.” He handed it over to Papà and a somber expression befell him. He cleared his throat. “And lastly, please don’t forget to file a police report.”
Papà and I shared a brief glance. We both knew I wouldn’t be filing a report. Mob business was always handled discreetly. Plus, the Remingtons and Papà had enough corrupt law enforcement on their payroll. The Montardor Police Department wouldn’t be getting involved in my case.
And the way I saw it?
Justice was already served by the time I lodged a bullet in Tom’s brain.
“Of course. We’ll take care of dealing with the authorities,” Papà lied and extended his hand to shake the doctor’s. “Thank you. I appreciate all that you’ve done for my daughter.”
CHAPTER 53
My Happy Ever After
Gabriela
My outlook on life had significantly changed in the span of a day.
Today’s tragedy made me vow to myself that I would never take anything for granted, that I would live every moment to my fullest, and I would always see the glass as half-full. If that meant I had to lean into my delusions and wear rose-tinted glasses, then so be it.
Once I was discharged from the hospital in the late evening, Hunter drove us to a pharmacy to pick up my medications and then straight to my family home. I nearly got whiplash from the two extremities I experienced within twenty-four hours. Being in the back of my kidnapper’s trunk to now sitting shotgun in my boyfriend’s sports car, one of his playlists running in the background. The old routine, so achingly familiar to us, soothed me like a warm cup of milk and honey.
The courtyard lights were lit when Hunter steered into the driveway. Some of Papà’s guards loitered around the property. But for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t stressed. There were no more threats.
I was as free as a bird breaking out of its gilded cage.
Hunter opened my door and extended his hand like a gentleman. I had two working legs, yet I didn’t get to put them to use since he hauled me into his arms, princess style.
I yelped at the unexpected gesture. Then sank into his unyielding warmth. His fresh leather and black ice cologne, faint but ubiquitous, was a balm to my soul.
“I can walk the short distance to the front door, you know?” I teased.
“I’d rather carry you, Gabby. I’m about to be your personal butler, bodyguard, chauffeur, chef, and everything in between until you fully heal,” Hunter informed.
“Will there be a bell at my nightstand to ring for you?”
We crossed the threshold of the Bellafiore residence. My family was somewhere on the ground floor, making arrangements for the upcoming days and probably whipping up a late dinner for us. But I wasn’t hungry for food. I only cared to see my Luna.
Hunter already knew that. He ascended the staircase to the second floor, where my room was, wordlessly taking me to her. “No need for a bell. I’m going to be sleeping right here in your bed.”
“My parents are okay with that?” I’d never had a boy stay for a sleepover.
But Hunter wasn’t just a boy.
He was my future—my everything forever.
“Yes,” Hunter said. Given how he handled today by coming to my rescue and beating the ever-living hell out of Tom, it was a no-brainer that my parents were bending the ‘no boys overnight’ rule of theirs. “Even if they hadn’t, though I respect them, I’d still find a way to climb to your window and sneak into your bedroom, Gabby.”
It’ll take an army to pry me off of you.
