Page 131 of Bellini Born

Even though it killed me, as Summer fought against my hold like her life depended on it, I banded my arms around her tighter, keeping her still enough that the doctor could thread the needle into the vein on the inside of her elbow.

She continued to thrash, but eventually, her screams tapered off to whimpers, growing weaker by the minute. Then, for the second time in less than an hour, she became unconscious in my arms.

Placing her gently atop the bed, I made sure to cover her exposed body with a blanket before stepping back to run a hand down my face.

“Now that she’s resting comfortably, would you like me to stitch up that bullet wound?” the doctor asked from beside me.

“No. She comes first.”

“Very well.” He grabbed a stethoscope out of his bag. “What is the extent of her physical injuries?” It remained unspoken that the mental distress sustained from the trauma she experienced wouldn’t be so easily treated.

Never taking my eyes off Summer, I pulled on a pair of boxer briefs. “Bruising around her throat from an attempted strangulation. Not sure what else, but from what I saw, she put up a hell of a fight.”

Palpating around the purple marks, he mused, “Clearly, her vocal cords haven’t been affected.” He tugged on an ear. “But there is still a risk that swelling could be delayed. You’ll need to keep an eye on her tonight, and if her breathing becomes labored at any point, take her straight to the nearest emergency room.”

My fists clenched by my sides as he peeled the blanket away to do a more comprehensive examination. It made me damn near murderous that someone other than me was seeing or touching my naked wife, but in this instance, it was necessary, so I forced myself to rein it in.

“There’s some light bruising on her ribs. Not enough to suggest any are broken, but I’ll leave behind some painkillers if she complains of any discomfort. The back of her head is sporting a nasty bump. It’s hard to tell if she hit it hard enough to sustain a concussion until she wakes, but I can come back tomorrow to assess her cognitive function. Other than that, just a few minor abrasions on her hands and knees, what you’d typically see in a case of road rash.”

“How long will she be asleep?” I asked, brushing the damp strands of blonde hair away from her face.

“She’ll likely be out most of the night.”

Good. She needed the reset.

“Now, can I treat that hole through your shoulder?”

I grunted. “Very well.”

Once I was seated with my back against the headboard, Dr. Corsi prodded at the torn skin around the opening, and I hissed.

“Let me get some lidocaine,” he offered.

“No,” I declined.

“Sir—“

“I said no.” This time, my voice took on a steel edge.

The doctor’s eyes lifted to the ceiling, probably thinking I was a stubborn asshole for refusing the anesthetic, but he didn’t bother to argue further.

I wanted this to hurt. Though I had a feeling the pain of having a needle and thread shoved through my skin repeatedly wouldn’t come close to making up for the suffering my wife had gone through today.

I wasn’t sure anything ever would.

Chapter 30

Matteo

Iwokewithagasp, having rolled onto my injured shoulder in bed. The events of the day before came rushing back, and I immediately reached for Summer. When I came up empty, I sat bolt upright.

The blackout curtains made it impossible to tell if it was the middle of the night or morning, so I grabbed my phone off the nightstand to check the time.

5:30 AM.

Shifting off the edge of the mattress, I searched for signs of Summer inside the suite before venturing forth to check the rest of the penthouse, praying her absence in bed was due to something simple like needing a glass of water.

But I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw her standing by the front door, tear tracks carving a path down her blotchy face, an overnight bag at her feet.