Page 31 of Wounded King

"You want me to?—"

I shake my head. "Let her think she won," I say. "Let her get comfortable. I don't forget theft. And I don't forgive betrayal. Not really." Then I turn to Violet, all smiles. "I'm sorry for the unpleasant welcome."

Violet blinks a few times, then her professional composure wins out. "No problem. But this can't be easy on you. You should probably lie down."

"I'm good," I widen my smile.

Her face turns hard, and her eyes narrow.

"Wow, that expression could send you straight to hell," Luciano whispers.

"I wasn't asking, Mr. Orsi," she deadpans.

"Oh, a girl after my own heart. She's right, you know," Zia Rosa enters the conversation. "Off, off to bed you go. I'll send some food in a minute." For good measure, she waves her kitchen towel at me.

"Zia Rosa, I have work?—"

"That can wait." Violet puts her hand on my arm, gently pushing me.

"You don't even know where my bedroom is," I object.

"Luciano?" She looks at him.

He looks at me.

"Come, I show you. I'm Rosa, the housekeeper," Zia Rosa introduces herself, taking the lead.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Violet, the nurse."

Zia Rosa waddles down the hallway and shows Violet where my bedroom is.

"Did they change your bandages before you left the hospital?" Violet wants to know. "Did they give you your medication?"

"No and no," I say with a heavy sigh, sitting down on the bed. Maybe the women are right, and I need some rest.

"Did you get the things I requested?" Violet asks Luciano as he enters. He's pushing an industrial-looking cart in front of him.

"Right here."

Violet steps over, pulling out drawers and looking things over. "I'll need more bandages and sterile gauze."

"Noted," Luciano types in his phone.

"Alright, enough," I raise my voice. My head is splitting. Is it too much to ask for a moment of peace? "Out, everyone."

"You heard the man." Luciano instantly ushers Zia Rosa to the door; he's trying to herd Violet out, too, but she evades him.

"I'm staying, at least until Mr. Orsi takes his medicine and has fresh bandages."

"Call me Marcello," I offer in a low voice. I want to hear my name rolling off her lips again. Just hers. One of the fucking crutches slips from my fingers at the thought.

I'm about to grab it, but Violet is faster. "Let me," she says, diving down. When she comes up, her head hits my chin.

"Ouch." Her hand rises to the top of her head. "I'm sorry. Are you okay?" She looks at me.

"I'm fine," I assure her, even though I think I just added a lacerated tongue to my other injuries. Madre Dio, that woman has a hard head.

Something undefinable passes between us as we stare into each other's eyes. It feels as if time stands still. A stray strand of hair has loosened from her ponytail, and I'm unable to resist brushing it back behind her ear. I wince at the sight of her still swollen face.