Chapter 47
Chapter Forty Seven
Antonio
Elsa screams my name and something in me goes cold.
Dead cold.
I hit the corridor at a run, Vito right behind me, our guards barely registering in my peripheral vision.
The suite door is half open. I slam through it.
Chaos.
Broken ceramics. Pens everywhere. Chairs shoved out of place.
A huge man disappearing down the hall.
And Elsa in front of him, sweater twisted in his fist.
My gun is in my hand before I register drawing it.
Rage wipes everything else out.
Vito gets to Elsa first, dragging her back and behind him.
The man turns toward me, smiling.
Smiling.
He made the mistake of coming for what was mine.
The gun comes up, steady and certain.
Without a second thought, I shoot him in the head.
The shot cracks through the room— sharp and final.
Blood and red mist spatter the walls.
His body drops instantly, dead before he hits the floor, blood beginning to puddle around him.
Silence slams down for one brutal second.
Then I lower the gun and step over the body like he’s already nothing.
“Vito,” I say, my voice flat as death itself. “Clean up this mess and take out the trash.”
“On it,” he says immediately.
I turn away from the corpse and go straight to Elsa.
She’s pale as death. Shaking. Hair wild. Sweater torn.
Alive.
Thank God.
“Elsa.”
She makes a broken sound and throws herself into me.
I catch her hard, one arm banded around her back, the other cradling the back of her head as I pull her against my chest.
She’s shaking so violently I can feel it through my bones.
“I’ve got you,” I say into her hair. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
Her hands knot in my shirt.
“He was here,” she chokes out. “The doctor let him in—Antonio, she let him in—”
“I know, dolcezza. Breathe for me.”
I pull back just enough to look at her face.
“Did he touch you?”
She shakes her head fast. “No.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“No.”
I scan her anyway. Arms. Neck. Face.
No blood.
No bruises yet.
Then my gaze drops to her abdomen.
Her hands go there too, instinctive, protective.
A fresh wave of fury threatens to rip through me.
“The babies?” I ask, voice rough.
“I think we’re okay,” she whispers, and her voice cracks on the last word.
I kiss her forehead.
“Okay,” I murmur. “Okay.”
Behind us, one of the guards emerges from the exam room.
“The doctor’s waking up.”
Elsa stiffens.
I feel it instantly.
Then her fingers tighten in my shirt.
“Antonio…”
I look down at her.
She swallows. “Don’t do it. Don’t kill her.”
I go still.
“Elsa, she let a murderer into the room with you. With our children.”
“They threatened her family,” she says quickly, eyes pleading now.
“She was terrified. She was wrong, and she has to live with that, but… please.”
I hold her gaze.
She’s asking for mercy.
And she knows exactly what I am.
What I would normally do.
“All right,” I say finally, the words dragged out of me. “Only because you asked.”
Her eyes close briefly in relief.
I kiss her temple once and then look up.
“Bring her out.”
A guard nods and returns to the exam room.
A moment later, he walks Dr. Bianchi into the office.
She looks wrecked. One side of her face is already swelling. Head bleeding a little. Terrified.
Good.
She sees the body on the floor and nearly collapses.
Then she sees me.
And Elsa.
She starts crying instantly.
“I’m sorry,” she sobs. “They threatened my son. They said they’d kill my husband. I didn’t know what else to do.”
“You should have come to me,” I say.
My voice is quiet.
That makes her cry harder.
“I know.”
I step toward her once.
She flinches so hard she almost folds in on herself.
“I should kill you for what you allowed to happen here.”
She nods like she already knows it.
“Please,” she whispers. “Please.”
I glance at Elsa once, then back at the doctor.
“You’re alive because she wants you alive. Not because you deserve it.”
The doctor starts to shake.
“You’re done here,” I continue.
“You will pack whatever you have, leave this city tonight, and go practice medicine somewhere else. If I ever hear your name in connection with this city again—if I ever see your face again—I will finish what I’m not finishing tonight. Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” she breathes. “Yes.”
“Good. Get out.”
She stumbles toward the door, crying openly now, and doesn’t look back.
The office goes quiet again.
Too quiet.
I put my hand on Elsa’s back and guide her toward me.
“We’re going home.”
She looks up at me. “Your place.”
“My place,” I confirm.
She grips my hand harder.
“No. I mean home. With you. For good.”
My breath catches.
She’s still shaking, still pale, still wrecked from what almost happened, and still she’s standing here telling me she’s mine.
Mine.
“What about New York?” I ask, brushing my thumb over her cheek.
“What about it?” she whispers. “I’m done. I’ll tell them everything. Then I’m leaving. I want you. I want our babies. I want your family close. I want… this.”
Emotion swells so hard in my chest it almost hurts.
“Screw the acquisition,” I say. “Screw all of it. You and those babies are all that matter.”
“I love you,” she whispers.
I close my eyes for half a second.
Then I kiss her forehead.
“I love you too.”
She smiles through tears.
I gather her against me again and hold her there, right where she belongs.
“Let’s go,” I murmur. “We’re going home. You’re getting cleaned up, getting into bed with me, and you’re not leaving it for a week.”
A watery laugh escapes her.
“That sounds like heaven.”
Her fingers brush my cheek, stopping near the bruise the man gave me.
“He got you.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.”
“No, not really” I say, pulling her in tighter. “But you are. And the babies are. That’s all I care about.”
She tucks herself against me.
Behind us, Vito and the others begin the brutal, efficient work of making the scene disappear.
But I’m already done with it.
I’ve got my woman in my arms.
My children safe inside her.
And for tonight—
That’s enough.