I shift my focus to Enrique as he speaks. I shake my head.
“I don’t think so. Zorzi and I haven’t seen or spoken to each other since I graduated university. He’s married and has two young children. Myziaand I have always been super close, even if she’s not an easy woman for most people to like. Zorzi’s a Made Man, so he would’ve been there if Don Piero or my father ordered it, but I don’t believe they did. Myziabeing there was far more shocking.”
“What did they tell you?”
“That whoever hired me wanted me dead alongside Alejandro.ZiaCosima mentioned the Galicians. Alejandro was unconvinced since something went wrong with a deal. It sounded like they wronged him, not the other way around.”
“He was. There’s no way anyone in Spain would strike out like this. They rely on our exports too much. It was someone else.”
Enrique sounds so certain that I don’t question his explanation. He opens his mouth to say more, but a nurse approaches.
“Mrs. Trevisan, your husband’s asking to see you.”
I cringe internally before looking at Alejandro’s parents. I don’t know which is worse: Alejandro wanting to see me before them or hearing someone claim I’m their son’s wife.
“Does Alejandro know his parents are here?”
“Yes. He asked for you, ma’am.”
“But—”
“Mrs. Trevisan, your husband’s very insistent. He was ready to pull his IV out and find you himself.”
Catalina and Matáis chuckle while the others smirk.
What the ever-loving fuck is with this family?
They never react the way you’d expect.
“Hurry up and see our son before he drops dead trying to find you.” Catalina gives me a little nudge.
“I only said?—”
“We get it. You were here, and we weren’t. Go see our son.”
Matáis nudges his chin toward the doors through which the nurse appeared. I follow the woman past several curtained bays before I hear rapid fire Spanish followed by placating Spanglish.
Fuck.
I hurry before an irate jaguar emerges from the closed curtains. That’s what Alejandro reminds me of. Sleek and elegant to look at but an apex predator to his core.
“Jandro?”
I push aside the curtain to find him sitting with his legs over the edge of the bed, glowering at a man who’s probably not evena nurse. They probably walked in to take his vitals, only to wind up in his crosshairs.
“Chiquita?”
“Sí, papí.”
I opt for Spanish since the termpapídoesn’t automatically have the same connotation as saying Daddy. It can be romantic or platonic slang.
“Ven aquí, chica.”
“Sí, papí.”
Despite his wounds and clearly medicated state, I don’t miss his commanding tone. I want to submit. Even though he’s the injured one, I breathe easier knowing he’s in control. I could be if I had to, and I would be if I were alone. But I know he needs this as much as I do.
I approach, and he holds out his hand. The moment I lay mine on his, his fingers curl around my palm. I expected to see bandages covering them, but it’s only a large pad and a single layer of gauze on each. I don’t know how he wasn’t more severely burned, but I’ll take the small mercies.
