"Yes, but I doubt that's what's causing this." Gianni holds a finger in front of Lorenzo's eyes and asks him to follow it as he moves it from side to side. My brother either can't or won't do ashe's asked. His frustration clear, Gianni turns to me. "Did he hit his head?"
I shrug. The scene at the church was chaos. "It's possible."
Gianni sighs. "I need to take him to a hospital, run a CT scan."
"You know we can't do that." Hospitals ask questions we don't want to answer and there's always a risk that some employee will sell us out to our enemies. It's harder to protect someone when they're in a public building.
"I wouldn't suggest it if it wasn't necessary. Treating him here carries too much risk. I need to know what I'm working with."
Shit. This is difficult. Glancing at Lorenzo, so pale and helpless on the bed, I'm reminded of the night our brother, Gabriele, was ambushed near his house in Rome. The left side of his face was slashed with a broken bottle, leaving him horribly scarred. He rarely leaves his house now. I've failed him. I can't do the same with Lorenzo.
"Okay, take him to a hospital, but be discreet. The minute you know what's wrong and how to treat it, you bring him back here."
Gianni nods. "I'll take him to St. Pietro's. I have friends there. We'll be in and out quickly."
"Fine." I still don't like it, but Gianni clearly thinks it's the right thing to do. I get my phone out of my pocket and message Tomasz, telling him to get back up here and to bring another guard with him. "Two of the men will go with you."
Only two minutes pass before Tomasz arrives along with Andrea. Both men are perfect for this job. They’re discreet and hyper-vigilant.
"My brother needs to go to a hospital. Gianni will go too. You are to ensure nobody gets too close."
"Of course." Tomasz inclines his head in acknowledgement of his orders.
I stand aside as my men get Lorenzo to his feet and half-carry, half-drag him from the room. Gianni gives me a nod, letting me know he'll take care of my brother. They don't like each other much, but since he first came to work here as my butler, Gianni has been a fiercely loyal member of my team.
As the door closes behind them, Olivia places a hand on my shoulder. "You did the right thing. Head injuries are tricky."
"What do you know about it?"
Ignoring my curt tone, she rolls her eyes. "Oh, please. I have five brothers. They've all had their skulls bashed at some point."
"Yeah." I look toward the door. "Perhaps I should go with them to the hospital."
"You can't."
She's right. Gianni might be able to sneak Lorenzo in under the radar, but my presence would draw too much attention.
"I could use a drink."
"Me too," Olivia says, "unless you're going to get pissy about me not being old enough to drink."
"We're in Italy," I remind her.
We make our way downstairs in silence and go to the living room. I pour vodka for us both. Olivia wrinkles her nose as I hand her a glass.
"I prefer Scotch," she grumbles.
"You should get used to the taste of vodka. You'll be marrying a Russian."
"Nothing has been decided." Olivia scowls at me. "Are you trying to pick a fight?"
"No."
I take a seat on the leather armchair by the window.
"I think I'll grab a shower," she says and walks from the room, leaving me with my thoughts.
Exhaustion, not just of the physical variety, seeps into my bones. It's dangerous, but I rest my head back and close my eyes, telling myself I only need a moment's peace.
