He sat up with a quickness that belied his sick state. He pinned my wrists back against the iron bed. He looked down at me with fire blazing in his eyes. Some fever, but mostly him. “Tell me,why him, Scarlett.”
“Are you positive that you’re full-blooded Italian? I think you might have some Viking in there somewhere.”
“Explain.”
“You know how regular people look at someone or something they like and think, I’d like to have that? Vikings never thought that. They didn’t think. They just took. Like you.”
“Answer my question, Scarlett.”
“He’s willing. He let Romeo off the hook.”
“I don’t like it,” he said.
“You don’t have to. He’s not going to take care of me. No one is. I’ll take care of myself. I swear to you.”
“I want to rest easy, knowing someone will care for you. If I can’t be here to do it.”
“I know,” I said, attempting to wiggle out of his hold. He released one wrist but held the other. I touched his cheek. “We talked about this, remember?”
“My memory is excellent.”
I smiled at him and he narrowed his eyes.
“Youlovemeloveme.” I wiggled my eyebrows.
He released me, plopping back down on the bed. He stared up at the ceiling. “Tito gave you something,” he said.
“No. Why?”
“You’re acting goofier than usual.”
“I’m going to let that remark slide since you’re sick,” I said.
“Thank God for small mercies.”
After he took a few sips of water, he let me feed him some ice chips before I settled next to him in bed, cuddling up as close as possible. His blood normally ran hot, but in that moment he was as hot as a stratovolcano.
“I’ll get you two new washcloths in a minute or two,” I said on a yawn.
“No rush. Pickling is a slow process.” He tucked his arm behind me, pulling me even closer. “You’re not staying up all night like you did last night.”
“I’ll try,” I said, holding back a laugh.
“I’ll trynot to die.”
The laugh died in my throat. I knew there was no way sleep would come. I’d stand between him and whatever threatened to take him from me. He was right.I’ll trywas not good enough. I’d do whatever it took to keep him safe.
“Ballerina Girl,” he said after a minute or two.
“Yes?”
Our voices were low, his on the verge of sleep. The crackle of the fire sounded like a lullaby in the background.
“You think I’m all true male. I’m dying ’cause I have the flu, milking it for all its worth to get all of your attention.” He tried to breathe through his nose and then sighed. “The truth. I am. And I have no shame.”
I kissed him on the forehead. “Get some sleep,mio angelo.”
“Scarlett.”
