I nod immediately.
The doctor protests. "Mr. Sartori, she shouldn't be moved yet. Her injuries?—"
"I'll carry her." He says.
The doctor sighs but nods.
Lorenzo
The leather seat creaks as I shift. Four days in that hospital bed, and my body still protests every movement. Sophia sits beside me, her hand in mine, but she hasn't said a word since we left Marina's room.
Marina's parents arrived after Sophia called them from my phone, her voice still raw as she explained their daughter had been hurt in a break-in. The lies came easier than the truth would have. How do you tell normal people their daughter got shot because of mafia business?
What surprised me was Dante.
My consigliere, who's never given a shit about anyone outside the family, hasn't left Marina's bedside except when her parents forced him out. Even then, he just stationed himself outside her door like a guard dog.
When Marina's father—a soft-spoken accountant who looked ready to faint at the sight of Dante—asked who he was, Dante just said, "I'm taking care of her."
The mother tried to make him leave. Told him visiting hours were over, that family only was allowed.
Dante looked her dead in the eye and said, "I'll leave when she's ready to go home. Not before."
The woman actually stepped back from him. Can't blame her. Dante in protective mode is something to see.
I've known him fifteen years. Never seen him like this. Not once.
"Lorenzo." Sophia's voice pulls me from my thoughts. Still hoarse, but getting stronger. "We need to talk about Luna."
My hands tighten on the steering wheel. We're five minutes from the compound. I'd hoped to have this conversation inside, somewhere private, but Sophia's done waiting.
"I was interrogating her. She showed up at my office claiming she had information about Bruno."
Sophia turns to look at me.
"Where is she now?"
I keep my eyes on the road. "Locked in the safe room at Rosso's. Liam's been bringing her food."
"Liam?"
"I need her alive. For now." My jaw clenches. "She knows things. About my family. About what happened twelve years ago."
"What kind of things?"
Christ, how do I tell her this? How do I explain that my whole family lied to me, that my brothers betrayed me in ways I'm still processing?
"She was pregnant when she left." The words taste like ash. "I don't know if it was mine. Maybe Riccardo's."
Sophia's sharp intake of breath fills the car.
"Your brother?"
"The one who was fucking the woman I loved behind my back. Yeah. That one."
Four days, and the rage hasn't dimmed. If Riccardo wasn't already dead, I'd kill him myself.
"Bruno knew," I continue. "He helped her fake her death. Arranged the car bomb, got her out of the country. Kept it secret for twelve years."
