11. Sonali
Chapter 11
Sonali
My paintbrush slid over the white canvas. I needed to buy a membership to this private island, so I could paint here whenever I had a deadline. Over the past week, I’d finished the pieces I needed for my upcoming show. Paolo helped me get them shipped to my gallery showing, and I already started working on a new collection. It’s theme was on the darker side—matching my mood whenever I thought about Paolo telling me he probably had lung cancer. I tried to broach the subject a few times more since that night, but he had quickly changed the conversation. My heart kept breaking, but he was addictive—I couldn’t stay away. Each day, I grew closer to him.
I recalled the night, we came back to the bungalow and jumped into the ocean after a session in the club. As we floated next to each other, he’d told me about growing up with the Russo family. The mafia molded him into an enforcer, though he tried to insist that was simply who he was. I could see through his hard exterior.
The door of the bungalow opened, pulling me from my thoughts. Paolo stepped inside and set a bag down on the table next to the bed and crossed the room.
“Did you finish the other one you were working on?” he asked, studying the painting on my easel. He always asked me about each of my paintings and the meaning behind them. I tried to explain that art was different for everyone—my meaning and what someone else sees are two different things.
I looked up. “Oh, I put it in the back. Something wasn’t right, so I started another one.”
“Well, I think this is my favorite.”
I pointed the end of my brush at him. “You say that about every painting I’m working on. That’s not how picking a favorite works Paolo.”
He leaned forward and placed a kiss on my lips. “That’s because you’re my favorite artist, and everything you paint is wonderful. When you’re done, we need to have a quick talk.”
I didn’t know if I was ready for the information he got from the meeting today. Paolo had gone to the main building to have a conference call with Sawyer, Antonio, and Kat. Brandon and Sasha flew back to Houston a few days ago. Sawyer originally had planned to leave yesterday, but he delayed his flight. We talked a few times about our mom and the research. Each time I tried to dig deeper, he changed the subject.
“Are we heading back to the States?” I asked.
“With the information Sawyer gave us, we were able to have Benson arrested. He won’t be getting out of jail any time soon.”
“What about the information Benson posted about me on the Dark Web, along with Vincenzo and his mafia coming after me?”
“CJ scrubbed the internet of all your information. The main person after you was Vincenzo, and Antonio said he won’t be a problem any longer. They also retrieved your passport.”
“Paolo,” I began carefully, “what does that mean for us? I know we both said this was going to be over in thirty days, but it’s only been a week.”
“Antonio wants to have a meeting tomorrow. I’m not sure if I have another assignment. There’s talk about sending a team to South Africa for a couple of months.”
I shot up from my chair, my hands resting on my hips. “You can’t go to South Africa for that long until you meet with a doctor.”
He had been dodging this conversation all week. I wanted to talk with Sawyer to see if my blood could help cure Paolo. I knew it would be a fight—not with Sawyer, but with Paolo.
He dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one. “I’m not going to see a doctor.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Every day I see you coughing more, and I’m pretty sure smoking a pack a day isn’t helping. Give me one good reason you’re not seeking treatment. If it makes sense, I’ll drop this. If it’s stupid, I’ll tell Kat.”
Paolo crossed the deck. His hand slid behind my neck, his fingers threading into my hair. “Are you threatening me? I don’t owe anyone an explanation for what I choose to do with my life.”
At least I’d had this week with him. After tomorrow, I might never hear from him again. This was our last night together. I couldn’t stop the tears that ran down my cheek. “I thought you were strong, but you’re just chicken.”
“I am not chicken,” he growled, stepping back and crossing his arms. “I’ve accepted my fate. People like me don’t deserve second chances. My life doesn’t end with a white picket fence and a wife by my side. If I can spend my last few weeks on Earth helping others and keeping someone safe, then that’s what I’ll do.”
The stubborn brute didn’t understand that saving people was exactly what his past had shaped him to do. “Think about it—if you got treatment and beat this, you could save even more lives and possibly have a life of your own.”
His expression went blank. “I’ve looked up my symptoms. If I had to guess, I have stage three or four. The treatment process is grueling, and there’s no guarantee.”
I wrapped my arms around his waist. “Or we could walk over to Sawyer’s room and have him help you.”
He stepped back, but I watched him closely as he considered my words. “I will not use you to save my life.”
“Take your ego and shove it out the window,” I growled. “Or I swear I’ll watch every video online until I figure out how to become a Domme. Then I’ll tie you to the bed and spank your ass until you do what I say.”
For the first time since the conversation started, he smiled. “And how exactly are you going to get me tied to any bed?”
He was forgetting I could easily call in reinforcements. “I might not be strong enough to haul you there, but I guarantee one call to Kat, and she’d help me. Hell, she’d probably show up with the outfit I’d need.”
“You, my little Sonali, have been playing that online game too much,” he said with a smirk. “I checked the main alliance chat today, and Kat is definitely spending way too much time in there. Fine. When we get back to Fort Lauderdale, I’ll meet with a doctor to find out what stage of cancer I have. I’m not promising to undergo any treatment, but I’ll at least see the doctor. Will that make you happy?”
It wouldn’t, not entirely—but it was one step closer to him finally caving and letting Sawyer help me treat him, if possible. I hadn’t talked to Sawyer about it yet, but I needed Paolo on board first.
“So tomorrow, when we get to Fort Lauderdale, we part ways?” I asked quietly. “You go to the doctor, and I plan to go back to Paris?” I so wanted him to ask me to stay.
“The best thing we could do is go our separate ways now. There’s no longer a threat to your life. I could get another room and call this quits before either of us gets any more attached.” With every word he spoke, my heart broke a little more.
I blinked fast to keep the tears from falling. “If that’s what you want. Don’t worry about moving—I will.”
There was no way I was letting him see me crumble. I turned toward the room when his arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me back against his body.
“I said it’s the best thing,” he murmured. “But clearly, I’ve never done what’s best for me. How about one last wild night here, and then you stay with me in Fort Lauderdale until you have to fly back for your show?”
He’d never promised me more than a month. A few days ago, I had only wanted a fun fling. Now, I wasn’t sure how I would ever walk away.
“On one condition.”
He leaned forward and nipped my ear. “I like when you make demands. What is it?”
“I’m coming with you to your doctor’s appointment.”
“My guess is that even if I said no, you’d show up anyway. You can come, but that doesn’t mean I’ll change my mind on treatment.”
I debated pushing harder, but decided that getting him to agree to see a doctor was enough for now. “Deal.”
“Go lie in the center of the bed,” he directed. “I want to spend the afternoon exploring your body.”
As I walked toward the bed, I pulled off my long t-shirt. I tossed it aside, leaving me in a red lace bra with matching panties.
Paolo groaned as he passed by, heading for the cabinet. Just as he reached for the doors, he started coughing. I sat up and watched the blood coat his hand. He tried to steady himself, but he missed the corner of the cabinet. I leapt out of bed and rushed to his side, but I arrived too late. He stumbled backward, colliding with the table before collapsing to the ground.
“Paolo.” I pressed my hands to his cheeks. His eyes were closed. No matter how much I shook him, he wouldn’t stir. Panicked, I grabbed my phone and called Sawyer, praying it wasn’t too late to save him.