“But I—”
His eyes spring open. “No, Luce,” he grinds out, and my body jerks back at the sudden outburst. “You don’t get it. I can’tprotect you. He’s the only one who can and his villa on Capri is the best place to do that.”
Stiffening my shoulders, I glare at him. “No,” I say with as much force as I can muster.
I can’t return to my father’s villa. It was there that Bruno attacked me. Antonio knows what going back there means to me. It’s not just having to be back under my father’s roof. It’s thatparticularroof.
“Please, for me, Lucia,” he pleads, his eyes now a watery blue gray. He reaches for my hand, and again, he winces in pain. I pull away.
My heart throbs and aches like it’s been ripped from my chest, and there’s a gaping hole where it once rested. “I’ll do this … for our baby.”
“Our baby,” he repeats as he places his hand on my flat belly. “You need to see a doctor,” he says, his gaze darting up to meet mine.
“It’s okay. I’d just finished at the doctor when Gio called. The baby is fine. I’m fine.”
He closes his eyes, then blinks them open again. “It would kill me if anything happened to you or the baby.” As he sinks lower into the bed, all the fierceness of moments ago disappears. He swipes a hand across his eyes.
I’ve never seen Antonio come even close to shedding a tear, not even when he told me his mother had died. Yet here he is, distraught that something bad might happen to me.
“I’ll do this for you too,” I say before leaning over him to touch my forehead to his. We stay suspended that way in silence for a few minutes, breathing in each other’s air.
“I love you,” he whispers, emotion turning his voice croaky.
I kiss him lightly on his cracked lips. “I love you too. But we’re not done with this conversation,” I say, then stand to go.
When I reach the door, he mutters, “I’m sorry.”
Me too.I wish he’d talked to me before asking for my father’s help. Even if this is probably the only option.
In the hospital corridor, my father stands with his feet shoulder-width apart, arms crossed against his chest, and spine stiff as he speaks quietly with Gio. In contrast, Gio’s hands are tucked casually into the pockets of his suit pants, his head held high, face stern, and eyes glacial as he stares my father in the eye. Two broad-shouldered bodyguards flank them. They’re certainly taking the threats seriously, and I know I should too. But leaving my husband’s side when he’s hurting breaks my heart.
The tears I held back with Antonio trickle down my cheeks. Gio notices me first and leaves my father midsentence to come to me.
“Are you okay?” he asks, the kindness in his tone matched by the concern etched in his features.
“I don’t want to leave him.” It’s a simple confession that does nothing to describe how much it hurts to walk away. I’m shattering into a thousand pieces because, when it matters the most, Antonio and I should be together, like we’ve always been.
The arm Gio places around my shoulders is a small comfort when it’s my husband’s arms I need.
He gives my shoulders a light squeeze. “He loves you, Lucia, and can’t bear the thought of something happening to you and—” Gio doesn’t finish the sentence, but I know what he was going to say. It doesn’t surprise me that Ant confided in him.
A small nod is all the response I manage, my eyes welling with fresh tears.
Gio and I were never that close growing up, but when we were thrown together over the marriage contract, I learned to respect and trust his opinion. Now that he’s my brother-in-law, I’m finding him to be the older brother I wished I had as a child. Maybe it was just the vibe I picked up from Antonio over theyears, but Gio’s loyalty to his siblings is evident in every word he speaks.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asks.
“Just promise me you’ll keep him safe.”
“I promise.” He swallows deeply. “Nico and I will stay with him until we can all walk out of here.”
I didn’t even know Nico was here, but again, I’m not surprised.
“We’ve also got security.” Gio gestures with a tilt of his head to two men at the far end of the hallway. They aren’t as burly as my father’s bodyguards, but there is a lean toughness in their stance as they track the people moving through the corridor. I’m guessing former military men.
“Thank you.”
“Lucia, we need to leave,” my father commands, and like I’ve done for the majority of my life, I obey.
