Page 117 of The Mafia Marriage Contract

Willing her to stay forever without hating me…

35

LIVVIE

A steady beep tugs me from the haze and my lashes blink.

My mind is foggy and a dull pulse echoes in my skull. Antiseptic laced with the familiar scent of cologne invades my nostrils.

That scent is my husband… Kingston.

A deep ache radiates from my shoulder, but it’s a distant throb, swallowed by a strange, hollow emptiness that settles in my heavy bones.

I can’t piece everything together. The clinical room swims at the edges of my vision, everything blurry and fragmented.

I roll my head a fraction, swallowing, finding Kingston’s fingers linked with mine. He’s sitting in a chair at my bedside, his hair a mess and dark crescents under his intense eyes.

This man’s presence is a tether to reality, but it’s not enough to ease the crushing sense of dread swelling inside me.

Something isn’t right.

He leans over the bed and presses a featherlight kiss to my forehead.

“Hey, princess.” His hoarse voice cracks on the words. “You sure know how to keep a man on his toes. They had you in surgery fixing the damage to your shoulder. You’ll be groggy with all the meds in your system.”

My body tingles in waves and I can’t tell if it’s the drugs in my bloodstream or the love I have for this man.

“What can I get you? Water?” he asks, thumbing my jaw.

I try to speak, but my throat is dry, thick. Every movement is slow, laborious, as if the undercurrent of pain is holding me captive.

When I move my legs, they tremble, but when I try to wiggle my fingers on my left hand, there’s no sensation.

“King… Kingston… my hand.”

His tired eyes close for a beat and when they open, they’re blacker than black. “The surgeon said there might be nerve damage but it’s too early to tell.”

“But…” I say on a croaky breath. “How will… I play?”

Kingston's fingers tighten, firm and reassuring. “You’re my everything, Livvie. And I’ll do whatever it takes to help you heal, to bring you back to the music. I’ll fly in the best specialists, a team of people who won’t stop until you play again.”

His voice is hoarse, and his promise weighted with a hint of desperation. “I swear to you, princess, I’ll fix this.”

The words hit me like a punch. My heartbeat flutters in my chest from the rush of fear, from learning I might never play to the same level I’d reached from years of dedication.

“I’m nothing without my music,” I whisper, the words tasting like acid on my tongue.

The very thought of losing the violin, of never feeling the strings beneath my fingertips, twists something deep inside of me. The violin isn’t just an instrument… It’s my goddamn soul.

And now, that piece of me might be gone forever.

“Who am I without it?”

When I stare off into the room, processing everything, the storm darkening my thoughts, Kingston presses his forehead to mine.

“You’re Olivia Viacava. My wife… my only priority. We’re in this together. To the fucking end, princess.”

I close my eyes, trying to absorb the sincerity in his voice, but it falls away like a distant echo.