Chapter 12 Enzo
ENZO
The boat moors in the port at Gozo. The doctor gives me a list of drugs to administer to her, including antibiotics.
I’m very careful as I move her to the car that takes us to the palazzo. The whole ride, I keep monitoring her pulse, alert to every move and sound she makes.
She will not die.
There are only a few hired staff at the palazzo, and they spend their time there year-round, keeping the estate clean and running.
When we reach the gates, I take Allegra in my arms and carry her to the main suite, where a master bedroom stretches over one thousand square feet. There’s a king-sized bed in the middle of the room, and I slowly lower her onto the duvet.
The doctor told me to expect fever, chills, and even delirium. I’m not exactly psyched for any of those, but I’ll make sure she’s warm and comfortable in the bed.
I force myself to leave her side for a moment, and I call in soldiers to guard the estate.
Then, I gather the staff and give them their tasks.
I ask one woman to go shopping for a variety of clothes for Allegra, and then I entrust the cook with a long list of liquid foods that Allegra will be able to ingest.
When I’ve given everyone in the house something to do, I head back to the bedroom. Checking on Allegra again, I’m happy to see she’s not running a fever. Grateful for a moment of peace, I head to the shower to wash the blood off my body.
As the water clings to my skin, I can’t help but replay the events of the day.
Such a close call…
She could have died. That little idiot could have died, and for what? To save me? I almost laugh at the absurdity of the situation, even though for some reason it feels good.
I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone do that for me unconditionally.
Sure, my father’s soldiers would protect me with their lives, but only because I’m the Agosti heir and, by extension, their boss.
It’s nothing more than tradition and a disparity of power.
They would never do the same for a stranger.
She did.
Not only for a stranger but for someone she doesn’t even like. I’m, again, stunned to admit that for the first time in my life, a woman has earned my respect.
I turn off the water and wrap a towel around my waist. Going back to the room, I pull a chair next to the bed and sit down.
As I watch her form, valiantly struggling between life and death, I’m suddenly struck by a thought.
She’s exactly what I need by my side. She’s incredibly brave, she sticks to her principles even in the face of death, and she’s smart and selfless.
My eyes go back to her face. She’s definitely not bad to look at.
And most importantly, she’s someone I could trust.
It doesn’t take me long to become fully convinced that she’s got all the attributes to be the perfect wife—my perfect wife specifically.
Because there’s no way I’m letting her go. Not after everything we’ve been through.
She’s got my blood pumping through her veins now, so I’m keeping her.
Now, convincing her of that will not go as smoothly, a fact that I’m painfully aware of. Not when she clearly hates me. I’ll just have to make it so she has no other choice but me.
Deep in her slumber, she makes a tiny noise, her mouth opening slightly.
Yes, she’s mine. Only ever mine.
“You mean they were trying to stop the wedding by any means,” I add dryly.
One of my men in New York had just informed me that the moment rumors had started that Agosti and Guerra would unite their families through marriage, DeVille, Guerra’s sworn enemy, hadn’t taken the news well.
Not that anyone thought they would, since they’ve always sought to isolate the Guerras.
But for them to attempt to kill me just to ensure the union would not take place? Quite drastic, even for them.
While I certainly don’t appreciate people trying to kill me, they crossed a line when they injured my property.
Well, my property as of now.
“Get a decoy to pretend I’m leaving for New York. Commercial. And keep me updated.” I hang up just in time to see a maid bring in a tray of food.
“I’ve got it.” I motion for her to leave.
It's been almost two days since the attack, and Allegra has only woken up a few times. Each time, she'd mumble something and then promptly go back to sleep. She hasn't gotten a fever yet, which is the only good thing.
Going around the bed, I pick up the bowl of soup and take a small spoonful to make sure it's not too hot. When I'm satisfied with the temperature, I help Allegra into a sitting position and try to pry her lips open to get some liquid into her.
The doctor had commented on her weight, saying that if she doesn't receive enough nutrients, it might be hard on her body and would slow down her recovery. I'd started with some water, and she'd held that down, so soup seemed like a reasonable next step.
The spoon barely makes it past her lips, and some liquid trickles down her chin. Using a napkin, I wipe it away carefully, and her eyes open slightly. A small groan escapes her, but she doesn't move.
I feed her another spoonful, and the same thing happens. It's like she's purposefully trying to make a mess. I decide to play her game, especially when I see the slight fluttering of her eyes under her lids.
I wipe her chin and give her more soup. This time, I'm not surprised when it ends up more on her face than in her mouth. I don't stop. Another spoonful, and even more soup is dribbling down her chin.
Drawing back a little, I watch as she tries very hard to pretend she's asleep. So I call her bluff. I put the bowl back on the tray and, leaning in, capture the droplets of soup dripping down her chin with my tongue. I close my lips over the skin right under hers, sucking in the liquid.
She gasps and tries to get away, wincing when her shoulder pains her.
I move back just a little to find her staring at me, her eyes holding the same fire as before.
I should have known that no gunshot wound would take that spark from her. My lips stretch into a languid smile.
"What do you think you're doing?" she asks through gritted teeth, and even sapped of strength, she plans on fighting me.
"What does it look like?" I lift my hand to caress her cheek. She tries to push me away, but her condition doesn't allow her much movement.
She's caught.
"You're hurt. Don't strain yourself." There's so much animosity in those eyes of hers; it's like she's challenging me to keep pushing her buttons.
And I can never pass up a good challenge.
"Defenseless… you can't even hit me," I drawl, and she jerks her body back, grimacing.
"Be a good girl and don't struggle," I say right before I dip my head lower, my mouth hovering over hers.
"I'll bite," she whispers, probably hoping it will deter me.
"Maybe I'm hoping you will." I reply with a smirk, taunting her with the ghost of a pressure on her lips before I suddenly stand.
"I'm glad you're doing better. Now you can feed yourself. I would have hated to have to nurse you back to health."
"And whose fault is this, asshole?" she retorts, more vigor in her voice than before. She points at her bandaged shoulder, and I just shrug.
"Did I ask you to get shot?"
Well done, Enzo. You're supposed to butter her up to marry you, not antagonize her further.
"You could have at least said thank you," she mutters under her breath, swinging her feet over the bed and positioning herself toward the bedside table. Using her good hand, she starts eating the soup.
"Easy," I say when I see the speed she's eating at.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Did you want me to stare at it?" She rolls her eyes at me before continuing to eat.
I think that settles it. She won't die.
When I check on her later, she's sleeping again, a peaceful expression on her face. Oh, if only she were always like this…
I shake my head at the thought—there would be no fun in that.
I go about my day, spending most of the time on phone calls with contacts from New York and Sicily, and I manage to glean what the Marchesi have planned for Allegra.
The wedding, ten days from now, is the culmination of Marchesi's decade-long aspiration of getting into Northern European markets.
With the current leadership, I'm surprised it's even a viable option.
Leonardo Marchesi is known for his spendthrift habits, not his foresight.
And the careful planning of the nuptials leads me to believe there might be a hidden player—the brains behind the operation.
It's easy to see what they've done, even without an account from Allegra. They must have known about Franzè's penchant for children, and they'd resolved to keep her looking like one by limiting her food intake. My guess is that they've also tried to keep her isolated.
When I'd questioned my contact about Allegra specifically, he hadn't even known who she was. He'd only met her sister, Chiara, who, in his own words, was the apple of her parents' eyes.
It seems I wasn't far off in my assessment—she's just a sacrificial lamb.
But you know what they say, one man's trash is another man's treasure. I'll just have to erase the misguided sense of duty she has toward her family from her mind. And the easiest way? Make her miss her own wedding.
"How is she, Doctor?" I ask when the man exits her room. I'd found another doctor willing to look after her for the duration of our stay here, mainly because I needed a more unethical one.
"The wound is doing better than I expected. She should be fine as long as she takes care of herself."
"What about the thing I asked you about before?" I tap my foot, anxious to hear his opinion.
"It shouldn't be too harmful. Sleep is beneficial at this point, as it helps her heal." I nod and give my thanks. Now my plan can officially go ahead.
I return to the room late at night. Allegra is deep asleep at this point. Stepping closer to the bed, I lower the sheet down her body and brush my hand across her forehead.
Warm… Too warm.
She releases a soft moan, stretching her body so that the sheet completely falls away. The entire bed is soaked, her wet clothes clinging to her skin. She thrashes a little when the breeze hits her damp skin, a shiver enveloping her body.
Shit!
This is exactly what the doctor had warned me against. I open the drawer with the medicine, and I take the pills he'd prescribed.
"Easy, little tigress," I whisper, helping her up so she can swallow the pills. She's not protesting this time, and when her eyes open they are dull with pain.
"Cold," she says in a whimper that breaks my heart. I quickly take a pair of scissors and cut the shirt off her body, avoiding the injured area to the best of my ability. Then I take off her pants, leaving only her underwear on.
Heading to the bathroom, I fill a basin with water and bring it to her side, using a cloth to gently wipe the sweat off her skin.
"No… no, please no." Her hand pushes at me, her skin covered in goosebumps from the cold. My eyes glaze over her pretty tits, her nipples erect and standing at attention.
Damn…
I swallow. Hard.
"Please…" I deposit the basin on the floor, leaving the cloth inside. Standing up, I strip, remaining only in my underwear, and join her on the bed.
Skin-to-skin contact is the best way to warm someone up, supposedly. In this case, I'll take that as truth.
I turn her onto her good side and bring her close to my skin. My arm sneaks around her waist to keep her flush against me. Her nipples brush against my naked chest, and I close my eyes, willing myself to calm down.
"Oh," she moans softly, still shivering. She burrows closer to me, and she throws her leg over my body.
Fuck!
That sudden movement just brought her center into contact with my already rigid cock, and I have to grit my teeth in frustration.
This is what I get for trying to be helpful.
She seems to have found her position, and soon she's fast asleep. I hold on to her, and at some point, I drift off too.
It's morning when I'm woken up by a female shriek. I open my eyes to a terrified Allegra clutching the sheet to her chest, her eyes full of tears.
"Please tell me you didn't…" She trails off, and any attempt I might have made at a joke is quickly forgotten. She looks so heartbroken that I can't find it in me to taunt her anymore.
"Nothing happened," I say, standing up. "You were running a fever, and I warmed you up."
"Naked?" She raises an eyebrow at me, but I don't miss the way her eyes dip down my body before coming right back up.
"Sure, what better way to heal you than with my godly body?" I give her a lopsided smile, and the sadness seems to melt away from her eyes, replaced with pure anger.
I think I prefer the anger.
"Get out!" she yells at me, throwing a pillow at my retreating figure.
It seems she's finally on her way to recovery. And it's the best time to put my plan into motion.