Husband of Aurora Valentini.
Cosa NostraandCamorranConsigliere of NYC, Vegas, and LA.
(And the pregnant woman who currently stared at me like she hoped I’d choke on my next breath.)
Ohhh, wait—I recognized her. From the ER. That incident with the ginger?—
“Kitty?”
I blinked at Jennifer’s prompt.
Considering my status as ‘mob-adjacent,’ I shouldn’t be able to put all these names to their faces, but I knew more about the Valentinis than they could ever imagine.
Still, that wasn’t today’s problem—that label belonged to Custanzu.
“He overdosed.”
Before I could say another word, the oldest woman in the room, clearly the family matriarch, wailed in despair. The ululation reminded me of something from across the Atlantic, deep in the Mediterranean and Middle East where women would hurl themselves at coffins, fists banging against the wood as they screamed at the skies and purged their grief.
I’d always been so jealous of that grief.
To hurl their outrage at God himself—powerful stuff to a woman who’d put hers on lockdown to save her sanity. To preserve herlife.
In a soft aside, I explained Custanzu’s current status to Jennifer and Hunter as Aurora and Luciu converged upon their mother.
Because she looked close to passing out, I bustled to my feet, wincing as my damn shoes squeaked, and poured some water into aplastic tumbler from the jug on her son’s nightstand, then hustled over to their parent.
Neither sibling appreciated my presence as I barged in, but I also spoke distressed mother fluently and they didn’t have my certifications. “Please, Mrs. Valentini, you must drink some water. The last thing your son needs is for you to collapse. He’s bound to wake up soon.”
The older woman turned eyes drenched with tears on me, and I just knew she hadn’t heard my assurances. “Will he d-die?”
“In forty years if we at Bellevue have anything to say about it,” I appeased. “Now, please drink?”
Mouth quivering with distress, she sipped at the water as I pressed the cup to her lips and tilted it. Absently, I took note of the shake in her hands that, from experience, I knew had nothing to do with her fear.
“It was kind of you to tell us.”
I patted her trembling fingers. “I’m from a big family too. I knew something was wrong when none of the nurses were begging for space to move in here.”
“How long has he—” She didn’t finish the question, just wafted a hand at the bed as if that were all she could manage.
Ooh, boy.
“Two days.”
“And no one knew?”
The warped shriek had them flinching, but Aurora stepped up to the plate and faced her mother. “You know how he is,Matri.Radio silence until we go and visit him. The only reason he hasn’t gotten in deep shit with either of us is that somehow, he maintains his workload.”
“I told you something was wrong?—”
“Lauren,” Hunter chided. “Aurora’s Braxton Hicks started two days ago and we just landed on a flight I let her take because we’re armed with a doctor and a doula onboard. Jen and Luc have kids.That’s a lot for anyone to handle without a wayward brother—” He broke off, but I could tell he’d been on the brink of criticizing Stan.
And I got it.
Self-destructive siblings were a pain in the ass.
Because I also possessed one of those, I shot him a commiserative look.
