Page 108

Luca stood behind me as I swept the dark strands off Marcello’s clammy forehead. Even in sleep, he was beautiful. He looked so peaceful. As I touched his skin, I felt a flicker of heat spread down my arm. That connection was always present. The same energy I’d felt every time he touched me.
I traced the length of his jaw with my fingers. Bent over the side of the bed, I whispered in his ear, “Come back to me, Marcello. I need you.”
I checked each dip in the heart monitor, studying it like a hawk. Gripping the metal bars on the bed, I kissed his forehead. “Wake up, Marcello. Your queen demands it.”
“Let him sleep,” Luca said over my shoulder.
“Shut up, Luca,” I snapped, anger surging as I spun around to face him. “Stop telling me what to do.”
A moment passed between us. My heart thudded as his teeth clenched, and I realized I was out of line. Marcello was his brother, not mine.
“I’m sorry.” I closed the distance between us and brushed my fingers against his. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. It’s just…” My words died off in my throat as I glanced over at Marcello.
“I know,” Luca muttered, his eyes downcast.
I slid my hands up his chest, wrapping my arms around his neck. Our eyes met for a moment. He looked so sad and beautiful that I wanted to kiss his lips. Luca held me firmly, as if he feared I would disappear if he let go.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered again, my head foggy from the drugs. “I can’t handle losing another person I care about.”
He tensed at my words. “I know. Try to relax, okay?”
“Okay,” I sighed.
His delicious scent consumed me as I rested my head on his chest.
“He’s going to live,” I muttered, needing confirmation. “Right?”
Luca rolled his shoulders. “Only time will tell.”
My chest tightened as I whispered, “He has to live.”
“He will, baby.” He kissed my head. “Stop worrying about Marcello. He’s a fighter. If anyone can pull through this, it’s him.”
Someone cleared their throat behind us.
Until then, I hadn’t noticed we were still in the ballroom. My eyes traveled around the room and landed on Arlo, Pops, and the Knights. They sat at a dining table on elaborate chairs emblazoned with the Salvatore crest.
Drinks in hand, they studied me with curiosity. Arlo sat beside Pops in a new suit. My grandfather looked as if he’d aged ten years within days. Sonny and Drake wore day-old suits, looking like they hadn’t slept in weeks. Dark circles ringed their eyes, and their hair was messy.
The golden boy of Devil’s Creek always looked like a billion bucks. But seeing Sonny so disheveled and heartbroken made my stomach hurt. This had to be killing him. He’d been Marcello’s best friend since they were in diapers. When Marcello couldn’t count on Luca, he had Sonny. They had each other.
Arlo watched me with curiosity, his gaze drifting to Luca’s hand on my hip. His intense stare unsettled me. Luca often looked at me the same way. Like he was staring through me, digging deep into my soul, attempting to extract my secrets.
Pops ran a hand through his white hair, forcing a smile as our eyes met. The stress of Marcello’s operation must have taken a toll on him. At his age, he hadn’t operated on anyone in years, and it showed.
I slipped out of Luca’s grasp and walked over to the table. Pops slid out of his chair, standing to his full height.
I launched myself into my grandfather’s arms. “You saved him,” I said as he hugged me. “Thank you.”
“This is a tough situation,” he confessed. “Marcello has to wake up on his own.”
“Do you think he will?”
“I’m optimistic.” He held me at arm’s length. “But you need to prepare yourself for the possibility of him never waking up.”
“Pops,” I groaned. “I can’t do this if he doesn’t… Not after everything I’ve gone through with Aiden. This place… It’s too much.”
He released a breath.