“Of course.” I pull him into a hug—hard, fast. He stiffens, but he doesn’t pull away. “I love you, my boy.”
I let go and he nods just as the door opens and Enzo walks in. Danny gives me one more lingering look before he walks out.
I don’t waste time. I head to the car with several of my guards and we make our way to the hospital. We break every traffic law on the books just to get there in half the time it should take.
The elevator doors barely finish opening before I’m storming into the emergency room.
“Beatrice Davacalli—where is she?” I demand as I reach the reception desk. “Where is my wife?”
My voice echoes through the four walls of the ER. Every pair of eyes turns toward me, but I couldn’t care less. The woman behind the desk looks petrified, so I ask again—this time with even more fury behind it.
“Boss…”
I turn my head and spot Valerio by the door of a nearby room. He’s leaning against the glass, a thick bandage wrapped around his head, already dark and soaked through. His face is pale, jaw bruised, a split lip crusted with dried blood. Fresh cuts line his knuckles like he went a few rounds with hell and lost, and his once-crisp shirt hangs open and torn at the edges.
Jesus.
I walk over and grip his arms to help him stand upright, but he refuses my aid, waving me off.
“No, don’t…” he breathes heavily. “I can stand. Your wife is over there; they have her under observation, but she’s fine.”
He lifts a shaky hand and points to the room opposite his. I give him one last look before heading across the circular area. I’ll deal with him after.
I barge into the room, pushing past the curtain. She’s propped up in a hospital bed with IVs in her arm. Bruises bloom across her porcelain skin. Cuts and scratches mark her face. But she’s breathing. She’s conscious.
She’s alive.
“Beatrice,” I whisper, crossing to her side.
Her eyes lift to mine, and whatever wall she was holding crumbles instantly. Tears fill her eyes, her lip trembling with the effort to hold them back.
“Matteo,” she chokes out. “You’re here…”
“Of course I’m here, amore.” I cup her face, feeling her skin beneath my palms just to make sure she’s real—here—alive. “You scared the shit out of me.”
I press my lips to hers. When I pull away, tears are brimming in her eyes.
I sit beside her and take her hand in mine, kissing every single one of her knuckles. “Are you okay?”
She nods, biting down on her lip. “I’m okay… thanks to Valerio. Where is he?”
“He’s a little banged up, but he’ll be fine. I’m more concerned about you. What happened, amore?”
“I don’t know. One minute I’m getting into the car and the next…” Her breath shakes. “A car a few feet away exploded.”
Fuck. Rage claws through me, but now isn’t the time. Right now, she is all that matters.
“For a second I thought…” She swallows hard, her throat tight. “Tell me the truth, Matteo. Tell me now. He is back, right? After all these years—he’s come back.”
I don’t speak at first. I won’t lie to her. But I don’t want to drown her in the truth either. Her life is the one in danger. She deserves to know everything.
“Tell me,” she presses again, voice cracking.
“He is back in New York, yes. But we are?—”
“Oh God,” she cries, the sound tearing from her chest. “H–how? I thought—oh my God. Daniele. Our son. He’ll try to get to our son, Matteo. Where is he?”
She grips her chest, fingers curling over the diamond necklace she never takes off.
