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Giovanna opens her mouth, perhaps to argue her case, but at that moment a nurse appears.

“You’re awake, beautiful!” she exclaims and bustles over to my bedside to check my vitals. She’s probably my mum’s age, but she oozes maternal care and makes me feel safe immediately.

“Your heart rate is going at a rate of knots, sweetheart,” she comments, taking a moment to look at me properly. “What are these tears for? Have you been upsetting my patient,” she teases Giovanna, blissfully unaware that she is needling one of the most powerful people in the city.

“She’s just leaving anyway,” I sniff, and, looking defeated, Giovanna stands.

She presses a firm kiss to my forehead and leans down to whisper in my ear. “I don’t want to upset you, baby. But please give me a chance to explain, okay?”

I don’t respond, but I do wait for the door to close behind her before I let the tears fall.

“Oh dear,” my nurse hands me a couple of tissues and pats my arm sympathetically. “She has barely left your side, you know. You’ve been out three days and she refused to let anyone else stay with you…”

“Mmmm, pity she wasn’t so attentive before I was shot.”

She raises her eyebrows and smiles. “These things tend to be wake-up calls.”

Chapter Sixty

Giovanna

“She’s awake and asking for you,” I snap at Massi as I reach the waiting room. “She doesn’t want to see me.”

“That might be because you essentially told her she was nothing to you and ghosted her,” he suggests sarcastically.

“Just fuck off and go see her, Massi,” I bite back. “I’m going home to shower and change. Let me know if there is any change in her condition and make sure she has one of our guys outside her room at all times.”

I can smell myself. I have never wanted a shower so bad in my life.

Stripping off my suit in my bathroom back at the house I step under the water and groan at the relief of washing away three days sitting in that hospital.

The image of Francesca’s hurt, as she told me to leave her bedside, is burned into my brain. My stomach is a pit of snakes thinking about how I was able to even speak the lie that she means nothing to me and was just a fuck.

She’s perfect. She’s perfect for me. I will take Elio’s place at the altar in a heartbeat and although the logistics are a bit complicated, I want to see her with a swollen belly, bringing our children into the world. Lots of them.

Clean and in fresh clothes, I jog back downstairs intending to grab something to eat and return to the hospital, but Matty and Elio are sitting at the dining table when I enter the room.

“Hear you got kicked out,” Matty’s lip curls up into a slight smile.

Staring him down, I walk to the fridge and start pulling out the ingredients for a salad.

“Could be worse,” shrugs Elio. “She could’ve taken a baseball bat to your brand new fuckin’ car.” He rolls his eyes before busting out a cheeky smile that I can’t help but return.

“Little Firecracker might have that lined up for when she gets out of the hospital,” Matty chuckles.

I throw chunks of cooked chicken breast onto my hastily chucked-together salad and finish with some balsamic dressing. Grabbing a fork, I begin eating straight out of the mixing bowl I made it in and slide into a chair to sit with my brothers.

“You two look more and more like twins every day,” I observe and they do. Buzzed haircuts, deep brown eyes, and famous Marino cheekbones; they are as similar in looks as they are different in personality.

“You lucky bastard,” Elio exclaims, grinning at Matty. “Pity you stopped growing early though.” He will never willingly relinquish bragging rights for being six foot four while Matty is six foot two.

“Don’t worry bro,” Matty links his hands behind his head and leans back, “God put those extra two inches elsewhere.”

“Alright, enough. Tell me what you’ve got on the shooting,” I interject.

From my seat at Francesca’s bedside, I have been running a full fucking investigation into who put a bullet into her and who ordered the hit. With Stefan dead, I have to admit I thought she was safe.

Suddenly serious, it is Matty who speaks first. “Not a lot.”