“These friends of yours,” I begin, keeping my voice light. “Are they good friends?”
“They’reverygood friends. They’re paying for my tuition while I study.” Her voice drops to barely above a whisper. “The Morellis.”
Nausea rises sharp and fast. There’s no way in hell I’ll put myself in debt to the Morelli Family. “I’m fine,” I tell the nurse. “Damiano and I…we just get a little carried away sometimes. New relationships are intense, you know? We’ve been so busy getting to know each other that we forgot about little things like eating.”
I watch her expression shift from concern to skepticism. “New relationship energy, huh?” She slides a business card onto the nightstand anyway. “Just in case.”
The door opens and Damiano returns with a washcloth. The nurse slips straight back into professional mode, taking it from him and dipping it into a bowl of water on the nightstand.
“Cal needs rest and careful treatment,” she tells him firmly as she wipes down my hot face. “Meals in bed, plenty of fluids, and gentle handling. Take it easy on the, uh, ‘getting to know you’ activities for a few days.”
He nods curtly, but I catch the way his jaw ticks at her phrasing.
“Dami needs some help, too,” I say. “Show her, Dami.”
He stares at me.
“Your arm,” I say sweetly. “Let the nurse have a look at it.”
She turns to him expectantly. “Is there something else I can help you with, Mr. Orsini?”
“It’s nothing.” She stares him down. After a moment, Damiano strips off his shirt, all the while glaring at me. “Just a cut.”
He’s tied a new bandage around it, and while this one isn’t stained red, he still hisses when she removes it. “You’ve pulled your stitches,” she says severely, examining it. She glares up at him. “You should have called me in when?—”
“Well, you’re here now,” he snaps. She doesn’t cower away from him, just makes him sit on the chair in the corner again while she douses him with disinfectant and then cuts out the old stitches.
“You’ve been too active,” she tuts as she cleans the wound and then sews him up again. Damiano stares at me the whole time, and I watch with pleasure, hoping it hurts like hell.
The bastard deserves a lot more pain than that, but this will do for a start.
“I’ll leave you with a course of antibiotics,” she says after plastering over the wound again and bandaging him up.
“Thank you,” he says shortly. He escorts her to the door as close as a shadow, and I don’t miss how he positions himself between us until they leave the room. “Rosa will take you down,” I hear him say, and then he comes back into the room, staring at me once more as he shuts the door behind him. The moment the door clicks shut, he stalks over to pick up Darla’s card, holding it between two fingers as if it might contaminate him.
“She offered you a way out,” he says, voice deadly quiet. “Why didn’t you take it?”
I meet his eyes. “Because I signed my name to a contract. And that means I gave my word as a Clemenza. I won’t break it.”
“Even if it breaksyou?”
Various feelings rush through me—irritation, arousal, something that might even be pity for this fool standing before me. “I spent months running. Always looking over my shoulder, never knowing if I’d wake up dead. While I’m here, I have food, a bed, and I don’t have to worry about an attack in the night. And you…”
“I what?”
“You gave me your word, too. You said you’d protect me—and you did. I might not like you very much, Damiano Orsini, but I do actually trust you. You proved I could. Besides,” I add, “I’dliterallydie before asking the Morellis for help. Luca D’Amato killed my grandfather.”
“Did you love the old man that much?”
Whatever medication Darla gave me seems to have loosened my tongue, because the truth spills out unguarded. “I hated him. Butlove and hate have nothing to do with Family. Family is about loyalty, first and last.”
Something shifts in his expression—approval, maybe even respect. “I need you to answer some questions. And no fucking lies.”
“Alright. On one condition.”
“You don’t get to?—”
“You haven’t even heard my condition.”
