Page 61 of Mafia King's Forbidden Obsession

“I’m fine, Raven…”

Or better still, not get involved in whatever put you in this mess in the first place.

I don’t have the audacity to say the thoughts out loud, so instead, I say, “I don’t want to have to keep worrying about you every time you step out.”

He looks at me but says nothing. I shut my mouth, too, pondering my thoughts and words.

Did I really feel that way about him? And why on earth did I have to admit it to him?

After a few moments of tense silence, I ask, “Are you truly happy, Ezra?” The question slips out before I can stop it.

He’s quiet, but I can sense his eyes on me. When I look up for just a second, he looks away, his jaw tightening. His silence is deafening, making the room feel even smaller.

The bullet finally comes free. I set it aside, the metallic clink loud in the stillness of the room. Blood still oozes out from the hole, but it’s dulled now.

Without missing a beat, I take the needle and thread and start to stitch him up—my mind half focused on the task at hand and the other half wondering why he can’t answer me.

Does he even know?

I finish the last stitch, securing the thread tightly, then grab a bandage, wrapping it tightly around his arm.

“All done…” I look down at his treated wound. I did a pretty good job.

“You’ll need a blood transfusion. You lost a lot of blood. I’ll talk to Elio, right?” I inquire.

“Yes…” he mumbles his response.

“Please let Elio know the don needs blood,” I relay to the guard in the room, who scurries out to pass along the instructions.

I get back to work, soaking a towel in the sink and cleaning the bloodstained area of his arm down to his fingers. As I finish up with the cleaning, Ezra tries to sit up, groaning in pain as he moves.

“Don’t,” I stop him, gently pressing him back until his head hits the pillow.

“Thank you, Raven,” he mutters, his voice gravelly.

It’s quiet again as I set up one pouch each of Ringer’s and Dextrose solutions on an IV pole. I also insert a cannula on his right wrist and connect the drips to him.

“How long will this take?” Ezra questions, nodding to the pole.

“Three days for the complete dosage,” I approximate.

His dull green eyes blaze as he flashes me a frown. “No! I don’t have time for that.”

“But…”

He cuts me off. “Blood transfusion, and that’s it.”

Sadness bubbles in my throat and sympathy replaces the initial anger I felt. His duty to his cartel always comes before anything else, even at his own expense.

“You know you’re human and deserve to put yourself first sometimes, too.” I step closer, my voice soft.

I don’t want to repeat my question of happiness but I can still get the point across. He seems to understand my point as I see something flicker in his green orbs. Before I can decipher what, it fades quickly.

He lets out a long sigh, shaking his head slightly. “Does it matter?”

I search his face before nodding. “Yeah. It’s…there’s satisfaction…and happiness in doing so,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.It does matter to me.

His chest rises, and a loud heave of breath fills the room. “I don’t think happiness is something people like me get to have.”