Page 18

It all happened so fast. One minute, his fingers were inside me, and now, he had my arm in his grip and was rushing me toward the waiting SUV at the curb.

All around us, we heard gunfire so loud that my heart hammered against my ribs. So much for a typical Tuesday evening, I thought to myself to ease off the anxiety. Then again, typical had flown right out of the window since Gio Lebedev rewrote the script to my life.

“Get in!” Gio screamed over the chaos as he pulled open the passenger door and practically threw me inside.

I landed with an ungraceful thud before Gio slammed the door and raced around to the driver's side, taking the place of the driver who had unceremoniously been asked to get down. Gio rolled down the window and instructed the driver to rally the security convoy.

“They better be at our heels!” he roared as squealed away with the already running car.

Moments later, he slammed on the brakes, and that was when I saw his brothers taking cover between cars. Two of them, I noticed, were stumbling badly. “Shit,” I whispered to myself with fear. “Dante and Luca.”

Gio rolled down his window and bellowed at them with desperation. “GET IN NOW!”

The men jerked their heads in the direction of the vehicle and started running toward us, Achille and Federico supporting Dante and Luca as they did.

Federico and Achille half-carried their brothers into the vehicle.

“Drive, Gio!” Federico shouted and slammed the door shut behind them. “Before they follow!”

Gio floored the accelerator and I gripped the door handle, thrown back against my seat by the force.

“How bad?” Gio asked, both words laced with worry. When I turned to check on him, Gio was pale. In that moment, I knew just how much his brothers meant to him and for his sake, I prayed they were okay.

“Dante took one in the shoulder,” Federico answered breathlessly. “Luca was attacked by a blade to his face and ribs.”

My head swam from the speed we were driving at. I turned to check on Dante and Luca. Both of them looked like they’d faced literal hell, and I counted down the seconds till we would reach home.

“Those Marotti bastards,” Achille spat in anger. “I’m going to get them.”

“We'll get to that,” Gio said, trying to calm the situation, but then he took another sharp swerve, telling me he was anything but calm. “First, we get to mine. It’s the closest and safest.”

We sped through the streets, and every minute felt like an hour. At last, we arrived at Gio’s.

Gio pulled up to the porch. “Get them inside,” he ordered his two able brothers before making his way to my side, even though I had already opened my door. When I stepped out, he sighed and furrowed his brows, running a hand through his hair. “If anything happens to them…” his voice trailed off.

In that moment, I saw just how affected he was. Just how much he loved his brothers. I took his hand and quickly rushed him through the doors of his house. “Don’t worry,” I tried to calm him. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

He nodded, a look of gratefulness washing over his face.

Inside was another level of chaos altogether, one seeped in panic. The brothers laid Dante and Luca on two separate couches in the living room. Federico immediately pulled out his phone while Achille disappeared down a hallway, returning with a black medical bag.

“We need to get them to a hospital,” Federico insisted, dialing some numbers.

Gio walked over and took the phone from his hand. “That’s too risky. If the Marottis are as hurt as you are, they’d be mad. It’s only a matter of time before they have their cars on the streets, waiting to ambush us.”

“Are they?” I asked Federico. When he looked at me quizzically, I followed up with my question. “Hurt as bad as you?”

“Worse,” Federico grimaced.

“Then we have to handle it here,” Gio said, just as Achille began opening the medical kit.

“So what's your plan? They can’t just bleed out to death here!” Federico's voice rose with panic.

“I'll call our doctor,” Gio offered, and I watched Achille pale as he tried to work through the contents of the medical kit, clearly looking out of his element.

“That'll take hours! Dante needs that bullet out now!” Federico insisted.

Gio let out a sigh of panic and exasperation. “You think I don’t know that?” Gio screamed at Federico.

I had never seen Gio like this. He was a man who always maintained his composure, but he was unraveling right in front of us all. It made him seem more human, and for some reason, I had this strange urge to help him feel less of the panic he was experiencing.

I cleared my throat and declared I had an idea, and all three standing men whipped around to face me, as if they'd forgotten I was there.

“I can help,” I said quietly. “I was a first aid volunteer throughout college. I'm not a doctor, but I can stop the bleeding and clean the wounds until your doctor arrives.”

Gio’s eyes flashed with surprise, and he gave me a small, single nod as I saw respect flicker across his face. He exchanged a glance with Federico, who returned a reluctant nod.

“What do you need?” Gio asked.

“Hot water, clean towels, alcohol—the stronger the better—and that med kit,” I answered, already rolling up my sleeves. “And someone needs to cut away Dante's shirt to expose the wound.”

To my surprise, Gio was the one who moved first, heading to the kitchen. Federico approached his younger brother on the couch, murmuring something in Russian as he carefully peeled back Dante's bloodied jacket.

I knelt beside Luca first, whose facial wound was still bleeding freely. Achille hovered nearby, ready to help.

“Hey,” I said softly to Luca. “I'm going to clean this up, okay? It's going to sting.”

He gave a weak nod and closed his eyes.

Gio returned with everything I'd asked for. Our fingers brushed as he handed me a stack of clean white towels, and I felt a jolt travel up my arm that had nothing to do with the tension of the moment.

“Tell me what to do,” he asked, wanting to help and I could tell it would kill him if he couldn’t.

“Pressure on the wound on his side,” I instructed, dipping a towel in the hot water and beginning to gently clean the blood from Luca's face. The cut was long but not too deep. At most, it would leave a scar.

Gio followed my instructions carefully, his touch surprisingly gentle as he applied pressure to his brother's ribs. The room fell into a strange rhythm of activity—me cleaning, bandaging, and instructing while Gio followed my lead.

Federico and Achille stood at a helpful distance, watching over Dante and passing me things I asked for.

When we moved to Dante, the injury was more serious. The bullet had indeed gone through his shoulder, leaving an exit wound that was still seeping blood.

“This is going to hurt,” I warned him, taking the cloth soaked in vodka that Federico passed me…

“Just do it,” Dante growled with a wince.

I did what I’d been taught, cleaning both wounds thoroughly before packing them with gauze. Gio stood beside me the entire time, but I knew it wasn’t me he stood for tonight. He was with his brother.

By the time I'd finished with both the patients, exhaustion pulled at my limbs. Luca had already drifted into a fitful sleep, while Dante stared at the ceiling, his breathing more even.

“If they’re in too much pain,” I told Achille. “You can give them another painkiller. But that’s it. No more. Wait for the doctor to arrive and do what he needs to next.”

Federico nodded, and to my surprise, he pulled me into a hug. “Thank you,” he said before pulling back. He looked at Gio and Achille. “I'll take the first watch. You two should clean up.”

“And I—” I offered.

“Have done enough already,” Achille clicked his tongue. “You need some food and rest.”

“You’re right about that, Brother,” Gio said, sliding a hand around me to lead me out of the room. When I looked up, I saw nothing but pride. Pride and such immense gratitude, that it humbled me to my soul.

Gio guided me up to my room. I was too tired to resist as he opened the door and led me by the hand to sit on the couch.

“I’ll have the maid bring you some hot tea and food,” he said, then his voice softened, shifting from matter-of-fact to gentle. “For tonight, Larissa,” he said softly. “Words aren’t enough.”

“Words aren’t necessary,” I said with a small smile. “They’re your brothers. You love them. They’re important to you and your relationship… to me.”

“Thank you,” he said gently.

“They'll be okay,” I said softly.

He nodded, but a shadow crossed his face. I saw raw emotion, a fear of the what-ifs.

“Yes,” he agreed, putting his mask back in place. “Because of you.”

I shrugged, uncomfortable with his gratitude. “I just did what anyone would do.”

“No,” he said, and the next thing I knew, he was on his knees right in front of me. “Not anyone. Certainly not someone we've been holding against her will.” His eyes searched mine, as if looking for answers to questions he hadn't asked. “I owe you, Larissa.”

A strange thrill ran through me at the sound of my name on his lips, at the sight of him before me on his knees. “Do you?” I asked, testing the waters. “Enough to let me go?”

The shift was immediate, and his posture straightened. He stood, towering over me—dangerously close, but not threatening; just in a way that made it clear he was trying to reestablish boundaries and was taken aback by my request.

“Don't push your luck,” he murmured firmly, but kindly. “I can't do that. Not until I know your brother wasn't behind the attack on my warehouse.”

“Gastone wouldn't—”

“You don't know what your brother would or wouldn't do,” Gio interrupted. “You see the best in him because that's what family does. Just like I protect mine.”

I wanted to argue and defend Gastone with the fire I usually felt when anyone maligned my loved ones.

But the words died in my throat as I looked past Gio to the door, thinking of his brothers in the other room—the way he'd rushed to save them, the gentle way he'd tended to their wounds beside me, the fear I'd glimpsed behind his stoic facade.

He was right. Of course I saw the best in Gastone because he was my family. What kind of a sister would I have been if I didn’t? And tonight, I understood something fundamental about Giovanni Lebedev: everything he did, he did for his family.

Just like me.

“I'm going to prove it wasn't him,” I said quietly. “I'm going to find who really attacked your warehouse.”

A quiet, respectful challenge flickered in his eyes. “Oh, Larissa,” he murmured, reaching out to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. “I have no doubt you will.”

The way he looked at me, as if I were a force to be reckoned with, made me sit up straighter with confidence. Tonight, I saw him in a new light, and he saw me in the same way. For the first time ever, I wanted to learn more about this mysterious and incredibly challenging man with a heart of gold.

I bit my lip, an idea forming. “I want to meet the rest of your family.”

Surprise registered on his face. “Why?”

“Because,” I said, the plan settling as I spoke, “I might be around for a while. Might as well find myself some company.”

Gio studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to my surprise, the corner of his mouth lifted in a half-smile that transformed his face.

“Careful, Larissa,” he teased. “I might start to think you're getting Stockholm syndrome.”

Before I could formulate a suitably cutting response, he turned away, moving toward the door. “Get some rest. You've earned it.”