21. Lia
Chapter 21
Lia
"Sorry I killed him," I tell Dominic as he strides toward the helicopter, his rugged features taut, but his eyes show relief at having his son back safely.
Dominic grunts, a noncommittal sound of neither approval nor condemnation. But the way his gaze sweeps over Rafe's battered form, taking in every injury, speaks volumes of his worry. He's just happy to have Rafe back, consequences be damned.
"He wanted to kill me too," I add, feeling the need to justify my actions. "I do have a personal reason and wanted revenge for Rafe, too."
“Lia. Never regret pulling the trigger,” Dominic says before his jaw tightens as we watch in tense silence as six bodyguards carry Rafe towards the helicopter with exaggerated care.
Their movements are glacially slow, so as not to exacerbate his broken body any further.
My heart breaks, not only for Rafe but for Dante, who trails behind, his head low. There's pain in his eyes, anguish at witnessing his twin so grievously wounded.
As we board the helicopter, Rafe is gently strapped to a bench, his head lolling to the side, his features almost unrecognizable beneath the swelling and bruises.
Instinctively, I move to take a seat beside him, but Dante's hand closes around my wrist, pulling my back against his chest. He turns us around and takes the seat I was about to take, pulling me onto his knee.
"You disobeyed my orders," he growls low into my ear, anger coating his tone, but I know it's not really aimed at me. "I told you to stay on the boat, in a safe place."
"You're not the boss of me." I glance over my shoulder and meet his gaze defiantly, refusing to back down. "And Rafe's life was on the line. I couldn't just stand back and do nothing."
Dante's jaw clenches, and for a moment, I think he's going to argue further, but Rafe murmurs something. His voice is too quiet to make out the words.
"Don't talk," I soothe, brushing my gentle lips over his. "Stay strong."
Dante drops his head against the back of my neck and I feel the anguish he feels at nearly losing his brother. "Sorry." He further tugs me until I am so close to him there is no distance between us and wraps the belt around the two of us, securing us as the blades cycle up to a deafening roar.
As the helicopter lifts off, I chance a glance at Romeo and Mateo Conti. They sit opposite me. Romeo's brow furrows. His eyes narrow as he regards me with curiosity.
Mateo, on the other hand, remains eerily still, his face an inscrutable mask that betrays no emotion whatsoever.
"So you are alive, and …" Romeo ventures, breaking the tense silence. "You're Aurelia Moretti."
It's not a question, but a statement of fact. I admire his directness.
"Yes," I reply, holding his gaze steady.
Romeo nods, as if confirming something he already knew. "Why did you come here? Revenge?"
I hesitate, weighing my words carefully. "Among other things."
Mateo remains silent. His piercing pale blue eyes bore into me with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. There's something unnerving about his stillness, a secret power that puts me on edge. Then I remember what Milly told me and a shiver skates down my spine.
Despite what she said, there must be more to Mateo and Enzo's relationship. Have I just killed his lover's brother? If so, I just placed his lover, Lorenzo Bianchi, as the head of his family. And that will escalate his need for an arranged marriage.
Shit!
"What other things?" Romeo asks.
I don't want to pick a fight and prefer to downplay my role here. "My husbands."
"Husbands—" He leaves the word hanging in the air.
Antonio glances over his shoulder at me. I'm sure he is wondering what I'm going to do next.
I'd like to disappear and have these babies with no more drama in my life. Maybe I’ll live in my house in the Bahamas or maybe the quietness of Switzerland will be good.
"I need someone to be at the clinic to do a full body CT scan within the next half an hour," Dominic says into his phone. "Thank you," he says before hanging up and calling another number. "Hi Cade, Dominic here. We've got Rafe. He's alive."
I smile because I'm sure that conversation wouldn't have happened a few months ago.
I watch as Dominic makes yet another call. "Hi Milly, Dom here. How's Amara?" I smile, liking he cares about my sister, too. He laughs. Obviously, Milly tells him something funny. "You go on your date and I'll take her when I get back … And thanks Milly."
Romeo's jaw clenches and he looks like he's going to explode, but he stays staring ahead, like he never heard.
I smile because damn, my sister doesn't let the grass grow under her feet. A date already.
Dominic disconnects his call and turns to me and says, "Amara is pretending she can't remember the taste of ice-cream."
"Maybe she can't remember. The amnesia affects her short-term memory, doesn't it?" I reply.
"She knows where to find the bloody stuff, though."
I laugh. "Who is Milly on a date with?"
Dominic rolls his eyes and sighs. "Lorenzo Bianchi."
"What the fuck!" Mateo growls, but Romeo remains quiet, though his nostrils flare.
As the helicopter banks sharply, I wish I had never asked.
The helicopter blades whip through the humid air as we land on the helipad of the private clinic tucked into the Gold Coast hinterland hills. Through the window, I glimpse the breathtaking ocean vista stretching out before us.
As soon as the door opens, nurses and doctors rush over, wheeling a gurney. Dominic hovers protectively near Rafe, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Be careful with my son," he warns gruffly. "He might have broken bones."
"You go home and get Amara an ice cream so Milly can go on her date," Dante says. "I'll call you once I know anything."
Dominic grumbles.
"We're all going to be sitting around and waiting. Rafe's alive. That's all that matters," Dante pushes.
Dominic stares at Rafe and sighs. "I can wait with him." He turns to Dante. "You and Lia should go home. The helicopter can take you."
"You go. We're staying," I say.
"I'll send a car for you," Dominic says as he heads back to the helicopter with Dante.
"Thanks everyone," Dante says. "I owe you."
"That's what we do," Antonio says. "That's why the Syndicate works."
"When you're not killing each other," Mateo grunts.
Dante stares at Mateo for a moment before turning away.
He takes my hand, lifts it to his mouth, and kisses my palm. "We'll need to keep an eye out for Mateo," he says as the helicopter door slams shut and the blades start to whirl.
"I agree," I say as we follow Rafe as he's wheeled into the clinic, while we take a seat in the waiting area.
Half an hour later, Dante fidgets restlessly beside me. He stands, pacing back and forth, while running a hand through his disheveled hair.
His expression tense as we wait in agonizing silence, and hope for good news about Rafe's condition.
Finally, the doctor emerges and a nurse wheels Rafe into the waiting room. The doctor clears his throat. "Rafe has two broken ribs, a broken nose, and will need stitches above and below his eye," he reports, consulting his clipboard. "The bruising will take weeks to heal fully."
Dante blows out a frustrated breath, clenching his fists, but Rafe just grins roguishly from the wheelchair, wincing. "I'm over being this handsome."
I smile faintly, squeezing his hand.
Dante smirks. "Can you give him a new nose so we look different?"
"Don't touch my nose. It's fucking perfect," Rafe gasps, clutching his ribs.
Dante lifts an eyebrow mockingly. "Have you looked in a mirror? It looks like it's started a journey to Perth but forgot to tell your face."
"Dante," I hiss, shooting him a warning glance. "You're not making things better."
The doctor frowns, shaking his head. "And I'd like to keep him here for observation overnight, at least."
"No chance, doc," Rafe counters, sitting up with a wince and grimace. "I've got important business to attend to back home with a beautiful woman." He catches my eye with a wink, smirking. "Her husbands need some time alone with her."
"Rafe," I murmur, cheeks flushing as I glance away in embarrassment. But then I roll my eyes, unable to stop the smile creeping on my face a little despite the circumstances. Because only Rafe could lighten the mood, even when he looks like he'd been on the losing end of a boxing match.