Chapter 15
“Relationships aren’t magic, sweetheart. They’re just two folks choosing to do the best they can through the good times and bad together, day after day.”
— ROBERT MONROE
Constance
By the next morning, Maximo is back to pretending he’s fine.
In his case, that means limping to the bathroom when he wakes up, refusing my help with the stairs, and brushing off every wince like it’s nothing.
The grinding of his teeth as he stomps around on his injured leg sounds like a squeaking mouse.
“Get your jacket,” I tell him, blocking his path to the study after we finish breakfast.
Maximo arches a brow. “Why?”
“Because you’re going to the clinic.”
He gives me that flat, unreadable look that he probably uses to intimidate men into paying protection money. “No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. Vitoli said you need a chest x-ray. He didn’t say wait until your ribs heal on their own while you swagger around like you’re fucking fine.”
“Constance—”
I fold my arms over my chest. “You can either walk out to the car, or I’ll have Enzo help me drag you there. Your choice.”
Maximo stares at me for a few long seconds before muttering something under his breath and stalking to a nearby closet. He grabs a sports coat that matches his slacks, and I silently celebrate my small victory.
The clinic is a quiet, discreet little building. There’s no waiting room full of strangers, no receptionist peering at us over glasses. Dr. Vitoli handles us personally, running the scans while Maximo slouches in his chair like he’s been sentenced to death by boredom.
Dr. Vitoli brings the x-ray films into the room and places them on an old-school lightboard.
I pretend to know what I’m looking at while the doctor explains the images to us.
“You’re lucky there are no fractures. Now, the bruising is severe, but your lungs look good.
I recommend you rest, ice the affected areas, and try not to get shot again this week. ”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Maximo mutters dryly.
The doctor then cleans the stitched wound in his leg, and thankfully says there’s no signs of an infection, but that he would prescribe an antibiotic just in case.
On the drive back to the estate, he’s silent until we hit the gates. I was beginning to get concerned, when he turns to me and says, “I don’t think I’ve told you that you handled yourself well during the raid.”
I glance over at him. “That almost sounds like a compliment.”
“It was. But—”
I groan and roll my eyes, knowing it was too good to be true. “Here it comes.”
“We can’t do that again. You were reckless. I was reckless. That’s what my men are for. Capos, soldiers—they’re paid to cover my ass.”
“Your men didn’t have a Bratva gun pointed at them,” I shoot back.
“And next time, neither will you,” he says, his tone like steel.
When we get back to the house, I walk with Maximo to his office, where Enzo is waiting. “Christ, boss. You’re limping like an old man with a fake hip.”
“I’m fine,” he mutters as he takes a seat behind his desk.
“Oh, Enzo, can you have someone pick up the antibiotic the doctor prescribed?” I ask him. “The doctor said the wound looks good, but he prescribed that and some pain killers just in case.”
Enzo looks at Maximo, who gives him a curt nod. He pulls the doors to the study closed behind him as he leaves. Once I’m sure we were alone, I say, “You’ve been distant this morning. The other night was terrifying, but we’re alive. You don’t get to stop talking to me or sideline me now.”
Maximo’s jaw works before he answers. “I am afraid,” he admits. “Because you’re not expendable, Constance. You’re one of the few people in my life who isn’t. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you live long enough to see the end of this war.”
His words should make me feel safe. Protected. Instead, they set my teeth on edge.
A sharp ache flares in my chest. It’s not fear. It’s not even anger. It’s hurt. He’d rather cage me than risk losing me, and somehow that feels worse than dodging bullets.
“You think keeping me in the dark, making me stay home while your men are out fighting, is going to keep me alive?” I ask him.
“Yes. It’s worked historically for women in the family.”
I shake my head. “Then you really don’t know me at all. I’m not the type of woman to stand back and let others do the hard work for me!” I move toward the door, ready to leave. If I stay in this house another minute, I’ll say something I can’t take back.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Maximo demands as he grimaces and gets to his feet.
“I’m going out. Back to the restaurant, if you must know. I’m going to check the mail and see if there’s any correspondence from the insurance company in our PO Box. They haven’t called to update me about their investigation the last few days.”
“Let me send someone with you,” he offers.
“No, that’ll just look more suspicious if anyone happens to be watching the place. I’ll be back, Maximo. Go worry about something you can control,” I toss over my shoulder as I leave the study.
I know he’s not happy with me. Hell, he may not speak to me again for the rest of the afternoon for leaving. But as I walk out the front door and look up at the gray sky, I can’t shake the thought that comes next.
If Maximo tries to sideline me on Saturday night, I’ll find my own way into that damn club.