Chapter 14
Rory
A sickening splash echoed throughout the bathroom, my stomach clenching painfully as vomit spewed from my mouth.
“Oh God,” I groaned, chills racking my body so violently that my teeth chattered, even as sweat coated my skin.
Though misery stole my sense of time, it felt like I’d been at this for hours, possibly days.
I weakly reached a hand up, flushing the toilet before collapsing to the cool tile beside it.
After the fourth or fifth time I’d lurched off the mattress to puke, I decided it wasn’t worth the back and forth anymore and had set up camp on the floor.
My muscles ached from lying on the hard surface for so long, my stiff back beginning to spasm, but I couldn’t find the energy to move.
Morning sickness had tapered off months ago, and while draining, it had never made me feel like I’d been run over by a bus, so this had to be something else.
“What the fuck?”
Gio’s voice was accompanied by rapid footsteps. When I cracked my eyes open, I found him crouched before me, his face filling my entire field of vision.
He pressed the back of his hand to my forehead. “You’re burning up.”
Licking my lips, I croaked, “That’s because I’m halfway to Hell. Who would have guessed I’d beat you there?”
My husband wasn’t the least bit amused. “We need to get you into bed and call the doctor.”
Strong arms lifted me, and I whimpered. Everything fucking hurt.
The softness of the mattress molded around me, and I let out a moan. The sweet relief that unconsciousness would provide beckoned, but before I could sink into it, hands roved over my body.
I slapped them away, my eyes still closed. “Stop.”
There was a grunt. “Your clothes are soaked through. I need to get you into something dry.”
Giving up the fight, I let him maneuver me out of my pajamas before he tugged a loose-fitting garment over my head.
The comfort of his smell surrounding me was overwhelming, flooding me with memories of all the times he’d held my hair back while I’d been hunched over the toilet in my tiny little apartment in Colorado.
Before I passed out, I murmured, “You take such good care of me, John.”
“Can you give me a rundown of her symptoms?”
An unfamiliar feminine voice nearby stirred me from sleep.
“She was pretty delirious when I found her,” Gio replied. “But from my own observations, she’s been suffering from a fever and vomiting. Sudden onset. She was fine when I got up this morning.”
The woman hummed. “It’s likely she picked up norovirus somewhere.”
“We were at a children’s birthday party a couple of days ago.”
Laughter sounded. “That’ll do it. Kids aren’t the best at keeping their hands clean.”
“Should I be concerned about the baby?”
My eyes rolled beneath their shut lids. Of course he was more worried about his heir. Gio viewed me as nothing more than a human incubator.
“The virus itself isn’t known to cross the placenta.
Though she’s likely suffering from dehydration, and if that becomes severe enough, it can lead to preterm labor.
At twenty-three weeks, you’re riding the line of fetal viability.
Some hospitals might be willing to use life-saving efforts on a baby of that gestational age, but the odds of survival are slim. ”
There was an audible swallow before Gio’s voice came out rough. “What can you do?”
“After I take her vitals and check on the fetal heartbeat, I’ll start an IV. One bag of saline solution should be enough, but I’ll leave an extra in case she gets sick again.”
I felt the pressure of a cuff being tightened around my bicep. Then my shirt was lifted, and a cool rush of air flowed over my exposed belly.
Blinking the sleep out of my gritty eyes, I asked, “Who are you?”
A strikingly familiar hazel gaze lifted to my face, and the beautiful woman with a stethoscope hanging around her neck—signifying that she was a medical professional—smiled. “You can call me Arianna.”
I frowned, craning my neck so I could see Gio. “What happened to Dr. Corsi?”
My husband shoved both hands into the pockets of his slacks. “I expressed my desire to have a female physician attend to you while pregnant, and he sent Arianna.”
Involuntarily, my jaw clenched. I didn’t like hearing another woman’s name fall from his lips.
Gio arched an eyebrow. “Problem?”
Was I going to give him the satisfaction of admitting that I was jealous? Hell no.
When I merely glared at him, refusing to answer, a corner of his lips twitched. “That’s what I thought.”
Smug bastard.
Gel was squirted on my stomach, moments before a doppler wand was pressed to the rounded surface.
Static sounded from the handheld monitor, and I held my breath waiting for the reassuring gallop of my baby’s heartbeat to come through the speaker.
After what felt like forever, that highly anticipated rhythmic whooshing filled the air of the room, and I sagged against the mattress.
A smile stretched across Arianna’s face. “Nice and strong. Let’s do everything we can to keep it that way.”
Throat raw from the amount of stomach acid that had eaten away at its lining, I croaked, “Please, do whatever it takes.” Even though he wasn’t earthside yet, I already cared more about my baby boy’s life than my own.
The physician cleaned my skin with a damp towel, then tucked away her blood pressure cuff, stethoscope, and doppler into a bag on the bedside table. Next, she withdrew a clear package containing a sterile IV kit and the bag of clear fluids.
Since I wasn’t the biggest fan of needles, I averted my gaze, sucking in a hissing breath when the sharp implement pierced my skin without warning.
“You doing okay, Rory?” Arianna asked.
Eyes closed, I managed a weak “Uh-huh.”
“Hard part’s over.” The tight pressure of medical tape being affixed to the inside of my elbow was accompanied by a chipper “all done.”
I let out a shaky exhale. “Thank you.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
The sharp snap of latex gloves being removed had my eyelids lifting to the view of Arianna cleaning up.
After disposing of the needle in a sharps container, she connected the IV bag to the plastic tubing running into my arm, adjusted the drip settings, and then hooked it onto the corner post of the headboard to keep it elevated.
Turning to Gio, Arianna asked, “Would you like me to stick around for the removal?”
My husband shook his head. “No. I’ve got it handled.”
It wasn’t shocking, considering I had once watched the man stitch up a knife wound in his side because he’d been too impatient to wait for a doctor. Removing an IV was child’s play compared to that.
“Of course.” She placed a hand on his forearm and batted her eyelashes. “You have my number if you need anything else.”
Oh, she was lucky I was sick as a dog, because that was the only thing keeping me from severing that appendage before clawing her eyes out.
Who the fuck did she think she was? Coming on to a man who was clearly married with a baby on the way? What did she expect to happen? That she’d come in to treat his incapacitated wife, then get ravaged in the hallway by the all-powerful mafia don? Maybe score a spot as his mistress?
Why do you care? You never gave a thought as to who might be warming his bed when you were on the run?
Okay, one, it’s disrespectful as fuck for her to hit on him right in front of me. And two, I have to care because if he decides to stick his dick between every pair of legs that open for him, he’ll end up bringing a disease home to me and put our baby at risk.
In the time it took me to complete that mental argument, Arianna had managed to slip from the room, leaving only Gio standing at my bedside.
His lips pursed as his gaze roved over where I lay on the mattress before lifting to the bag of fluids. “You should rest. I’ll be back in an hour to check on you and see if the second bag is necessary.”
With that, he spun on his heel and left the room. And I was left staring up at the ceiling, wondering if today would be the day that he decided to break his vow to remain faithful until death do us part.
By the time Gio returned, I was on the verge of a panic attack, my chest heaving with shallow breaths, my vision darkening at the edges due to the lack of oxygen.
With long strides, he ate up the space between the door and the bed, his brows furrowed so deeply that a crease formed between them. Placing a hand on my sternum, he commanded in a deep voice, “Slow it down, Rory. Deep breaths.”
My belly tightened painfully, and I gasped. “Can’t. Something’s wrong.”
His eyes dropped to the rounded swell I clutched with both hands. “With the baby?”
A tear leaked from the corner of my eye. “I’m cramping.”
The flash of fear in his dark brown stare was enough to have a sob bubbling up from my chest. If the man who never exhibited raw human emotion was scared, this was bad.
“Okay, okay.” Gio’s hands ran through his hair as he paced along the side of the mattress. Suddenly, he stopped the frantic motion, brought his cell to his ear, barking, “I need a car out front. Now.”
Pocketing the phone, he pulled the IV from my arm before bending down to scoop me up. Then we were moving.
I swallowed around the lump in my throat. “Where are we going?”
“Hospital,” he bit out.
While Gio kept a level head, I continued to run through all the worst-case scenarios in my mind. Because I was ninety percent certain that what I was feeling went beyond cramping. The waves came in regular intervals, each one growing a little stronger.
I didn’t want to voice it aloud, but these had to be contractions.
It was too soon. Our baby wouldn’t survive if he was born now.
The biting November wind whipped around my bare legs as we crossed the threshold of the front door, but thankfully, the car Gio ordered was waiting at the bottom of the stone steps, and I was enveloped in warmth before the cold could seep deep enough to reach my bones.
“Drive.” The command was issued as the door slammed shut, and tires squealed as the SUV lurched into motion.