“And when I’m asked why I didn’t report, what do I say?”
“And when they ask you why the Russo family is gunning for you? And how you know it’s them in the first place? What do you say?”
That quiets me down. Because the truth is, I can’t report it all. I can’t tell them everything. Just like I had to lie in Miles’ office this morning, I’ll have to do it again.
“That I was almost killed in my own garage,” I say, but the words die in my mouth. “And then I choke on the rest.”
He doesn’t push. He just waits.
“I can’t give them you,” I admit. “Or Nico. Or the clinic door you slipped through. I can’t explain how I know what I know without setting off every alarm.”
“Then don’t,” he says. “Not yet.”
“I’m supposed to do nothing?” My grip tightens on the phone. “Just a few weeks ago, I didn’t have any reason to lie.”
He sighs again and closes the space between us, crouching in front of me. “Elena. Panini.”
The nickname makes one side of my mouth tilt up. “That’s a stupid nickname,” I mumble.
“It’s cute. Like you,” he says and cups my cheek. “Just give me some time. Please. I can keep you safe. I can keep the baby safe.”
I look into his eyes, searching them for answers.
Before I can respond, a soft knock sounds at the door.
“Yeah?” Luca calls, eyes still on mine.
“Doctor’s here,” Nico says through the door.
“A minute,” Luca says.
“Dr. Bianchi?” I furrow my brows. “Couldn’t it be her?”
“We don’t think so, but we’re checking her out,” he responds. “In any case, it’s not her. We brought in a family friend. Just until we can clear Bianchi.”
I nod. “Okay. Let’s make sure the baby’s okay.”
Luca nods once, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little.
“But we’re not done with this discussion,” I warn.
He nods again.
Chapter Thirty One
Luca
I stand by the window and try not to watch the bathroom door. The house has gone quiet; footsteps and voices faded. The doctor who’s been loyal to my family for over fifty years left an hour ago.
He was calm, careful with his words, and left me with a short list and a look I’ve been seeing on Dr. Alfonsi’s face since I was a child. Everything checks out. Heartbeat strong. No bleeding. Hydrate. Rest.
Behind the door, I hear water move and then still. I hesitate. She might want to be alone. She might want me. I knock once.
“Come in,” she says.
Scented steam hits me in the face. The room is bigger than most bedrooms, but she makes it look bigger by sitting there in the tub, shoulders rounded, knees up, fingers tracing circles through the bubbles. She looks up and tries to put on a brave face. It doesn’t reach her eyes.
I go to the edge and crouch so we’re close. “How are you?” I ask quietly.
