“If she’s not in a room the second we arrive, I will break someone’s spine. Are we clear?”
I try to lift my hand toward him, but my fingers won’t obey. There’s a high, piercing ringing in my ears, growing louder with every shallow breath I manage to pull in. My body feels like it’s shutting down piece by piece.
My eyes roll back.
Darkness creeps in from the edges, slow at first, then ravenous.
“Stay awake.” His voice cracks. “Bea, keep your eyes open. Someone call Matteo—fuck!”
The lids of my eyes flutter closed the weight of them too much for me to hold up. I try to fight against it but the darkness is too strong.
“Bea…” he says again, and the desperation in his tone is something I’ve never heard from him—not once.
My eyes close.
Darkness swallows me whole.
33
MATTEO
The call comes at 2:14 AM.
I’min a hotel room in Geneva, staring up at a ceiling I haven’t slept under for two nights, when the room’s phone lights up.
Valerio.
I answer before the second ring, expecting news from our French friends.
“Talk to me.”
There’s a beat of silence—too long, too heavy—and instantly I know.
“What happened?” I’m already out of the bed, feet hitting the cold floor.
He makes a sound, low and strangled, like the words are scraping their way out of his throat.
“Valerio.” My voice sharpens. The dread crawls up my spine, cold and suffocating. My mind leaps straight to the worst thing imaginable.
“She collapsed…” he gets out. “She was in the kitchen, then she went pale and just— We kept trying to reach you, but your phone wouldn’t go through.”
My stomach drops. My knees weaken.
“Is… is she?—”
“She’s not dead.” His voice breaks. “But they rushed her straight into critical care. It’s been half an hour and no one’s come out since. I?—”
He can’t finish. And in the break between his words, I catch it—fear. From Valerio. The man who never shakes. The sound guts me open.
“Matteo, you need to come now,” he chokes out. “She will need you here.”
I’m already moving. Clothes on. Bag open. Sending messages to my pilot and guards.
“Where is my son?” I demand, tugging on my pants. “Who has him?”
“He’s on his way back from L.A. I haven’t told him anything yet.”
I nod—even though he can’t see it. “I’ll handle it. Once I speak to him, he needs to be brought straight to the hospital. I’m leaving now. I should land in six, maybe seven hours.”
