I could not leave her side. I could not sit and hold her hand and do nothing about the dead man who tried to take her away from me.
Olivier Nemours.
My cousin had claimed him, but I would go to war with him, too, for a chance to slice his throat open and watch him bleed at my wife’s feet.
Beni set his hand on my shoulder. “You should rest,cugino.”
I said nothing, turning my eyes to her face, setting her hand against my mouth.
Time moved, but it did not make a difference to me. I existed in the stillness with her. It could have been early morning or late night. My mind refused to register the color of the days, since my heart was on strike.
A knock came at the door, but I did not move to answer it.
Aristide came to stand beside me. He set his hand on my shoulder. “Your wife has a visitor,” he said in Italian.
He waited for me to respond, but I did not.
If she was quiet, I was quiet.
“Her father,” he said.
He left and came back a minute later. A man stood by the door, hesitating.
Aristide cleared his throat. “Brother,” he said in Italian. “You should let him have a minute with her. He is her father.”
The man walked in, stood on the other side of her, and took a seat. I studied his face. My wife did not resemble him, but I could see Lucila in his features. Other than that, he reminded me of a man who had lost all his air and was a shrunken version of the man he used to be.
He turned toward me. “It’s true,” he whispered. “She married you.”
I nodded.
“You had to force her?”
A small grin came to my face. No one could force Ava to do anything. She was a wild bird. That was why it was important to give her freedom. However, we were getting married that night, and nothing she could have said or done would have stopped it.
Sonny gave a subtle nod and turned toward her. He touched her hand, a tap that lingered, and then stood. He looked down at me. “Don’t tell her I was here. She would hate it. I’m staying at the hotel down the street.” He gave me the name of it. “Sonny Girardi is my name. I’d appreciate it if you keep me informed.” And he left.
I rested my head against her arm and breathed her in.
A nurse came in and tried to give me pain medication. I ignored her.
Let it fucking burn. Let it split me open. Let the fires of hell escape my skin and remind me of what needs to be done as soon as my wife keeps her eyes open for more than a few seconds.
Aristide was back. I was not sure how long it had been from the last time he had been standing next to me. He set his hand on my shoulder.
“You are burning up with fever.” He left and came back with a nurse.
I heard something about infection, me refusing the medicine, bla, bla, bla, but I tuned them out.
My mamma came in and tried to coax me into my own room. She tried telling me my wife was going to be all right, but if I did not get help beyond what they did for me when I first arrived, I was not going to be.
She sighed when she realized I had inherited my father’s headstrong nature. She took a seat on the other side of Ava, staring at me, but I refused to look at her.
She was gone when my eyes blinked open again.
Rocco stood over me, looking down. “We must talk.” He nodded to the door. “Family business.”
“I am here, brother,” Aristide said, sitting in the opposite seat. “I will keep watch.”
