Chapter 45
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Sophia
Pain.
That's all I can feel. My throat burns like someone poured acid down it, and every breath scrapes against raw flesh. My chest aches with each shallow inhale, like my ribs are made of broken glass.
Voices drift through the darkness. Familiar ones.
"—been here all night. Lorenzo, you need to eat something."
Vittoria? That sounds like Vittoria.
"I'm not leaving her." A deeper voice, rough with exhaustion. "Not until she wakes up."
Lorenzo. My heart stutters, sending fresh pain through my chest.
I try to open my eyes, but my eyelids weigh a thousand pounds. Everything hurts. Why does everything hurt? Why am I not dead?
Wait. Am I dead? Is this heaven?
I force my eyes open, just a crack. Light stabs into my brain like needles.
"Oh my God!" Vittoria gasps. "Lorenzo, she's awake! Sophia's awake!"
My vision swims, shapes and colors bleeding together. Then I see him.
An angel.
Yes, this must be heaven.
Lorenzo leans over me, his face inches from mine, and he's... smiling? His eyes shine with something that looks like tears.
I blink, trying to focus. His hand finds mine, warm and solid and real.
"Sophia." His voice breaks on my name. "Thank God. Thank fucking God."
I try to speak, but my throat rebels. Only a rasp comes out. I swallow, tasting copper, and try again.
"Lorenzo." It's barely a whisper, more breath than sound.
He kisses my forehead, his lips lingering against my skin. His other hand strokes my hair, gentle like I might shatter.
"Don't try to talk, tesoro. Your throat—" He stops.
But everything crashes back. The memories slam into me.
Daniil's hands around my throat. The knife sliding into his flesh. Marina with the gun. Marina bleeding on the floor.
Marina.
"Marina." The word tears from my damaged throat. "Where's—"
"She's alive." Lorenzo's thumb traces circles on my hand. "She's recovering. Surgery went well. She's going to be fine."
Relief makes my eyes burn with tears I don't have the strength to shed.
A man in a white coat appears moments later, reaching for me with a stethoscope.
"Don't fucking touch her." Lorenzo's voice drops to something lethal. "Get out."
"Mr. Sartori, I need to examine—"
"Out." The word could cut steel. "Both of you. Now."
"Lorenzo," Vittoria protests.
"She needs me. Just me. Get the fuck out."
The doctor backs away, hands raised. Vittoria hesitates, then squeezes my foot through the blanket before following him out.
The door clicks shut.
Lorenzo's shoulders shake as he brings my hand to his lips, kissing each knuckle.
"I thought I lost you." His voice is raw, stripped of all pretense. "When I found you, when I saw him with his hands on you—" He breaks off, pressing his forehead to our joined hands. "I've never been that scared. Never."
I want to tell him about Luna, about what I saw, but my throat won't cooperate. I can only watch as this dangerous man falls apart at my bedside.
"I'm sorry." The words pour out of him. "I—Christ, Sophia, I should have protected you better. Should have been there."
My fingers twitch in his grip. He looks up, eyes red-rimmed and desperate.
"You're everything to my filthy, useless life." he says.
I try to speak again, but only air comes out. My throat feels like shredded meat. I need to tell Lorenzo it's not his fault, that I'm the one who ran away like a child, who put Marina in danger.
I lift my free hand, making a small waving motion. No. Not your fault.
He doesn't understand. His brow furrows as he watches my hand move.
"What is it? What do you need?"
I point to my throat, then mime drinking. My mouth is so dry it feels like sandpaper.
Lorenzo's eyes widen. "Water. You need water." He jumps up, nearly knocking over the chair. "Doctor! Get the fuck in here!"
The door flies open. The doctor rushes in with Vittoria right behind him.
"Lorenzo, you're behaving awfully for no reason," Vittoria snaps. "The man is trying to help."
"She needs water," Lorenzo growls at the doctor. "Why doesn't she have water?"
The doctor approaches cautiously, like Lorenzo might attack. "Mrs. Sartori, I need to examine your throat first. The damage from strangulation can—"
I make the drinking motion again, more desperately this time, pointing at my throat.
"Get her fucking water," Lorenzo commands. "Now."
"I need to check if she can swallow safely first," the doctor insists, moving closer despite Lorenzo's glare. He shines a penlight down my throat, his face grim. "Severe bruising to the larynx, but no tracheal damage. Small sips only."
He disappears and returns with a cup of water and a straw. Lorenzo takes it from him, holding it to my lips.
The first sip burns going down, but it's the best thing I've ever tasted. I take another, then another, until the doctor pulls the cup away.
"Slowly. Your throat needs time to heal."
I try to speak again. It comes out as a croak, but I manage one word: "Marina."
Lorenzo's jaw tightens. "She's in recovery. You can see her when—"
I shake my head, gripping his hand harder. I need to see her. Need to know she's really alive, that Daniil didn't take her from me because of my stupidity.
"Marina," I rasp again, tears sliding down my cheeks.
"Sophia, you need to rest," Lorenzo starts.
I pull my hand from his, pushing myself up despite the pain shooting through my body. If he won't take me to her, I'll go myself.
"Whoa, easy." Vittoria moves to my other side, steadying me. "Sophia, you need to take it easy."
"Marina." My voice is getting stronger, fueled by desperation. "Please."
Lorenzo and Vittoria exchange a look over my head.
"She won't rest until she sees her," Vittoria says quietly. "You know she won't."
Lorenzo's hands are gentle as he helps me sit up properly. "If I take you to see her, you come straight back to bed after. No arguments."
I nod immediately.
The doctor protests. "Mr. Sartori, she shouldn't be moved yet. Her injuries—"
"I'll carry her." He says.
The doctor sighs but nods.
Lorenzo
The leather seat creaks as I shift. Four days in that hospital bed, and my body still protests every movement. Sophia sits beside me, her hand in mine, but she hasn't said a word since we left Marina's room.
Marina's parents arrived after Sophia called them from my phone, her voice still raw as she explained their daughter had been hurt in a break-in. The lies came easier than the truth would have. How do you tell normal people their daughter got shot because of mafia business?
What surprised me was Dante.
My consigliere, who's never given a shit about anyone outside the family, hasn't left Marina's bedside except when her parents forced him out. Even then, he just stationed himself outside her door like a guard dog.
When Marina's father—a soft-spoken accountant who looked ready to faint at the sight of Dante—asked who he was, Dante just said, "I'm taking care of her."
The mother tried to make him leave. Told him visiting hours were over, that family only was allowed.
Dante looked her dead in the eye and said, "I'll leave when she's ready to go home. Not before."
The woman actually stepped back from him. Can't blame her. Dante in protective mode is something to see.
I've known him fifteen years. Never seen him like this. Not once.
"Lorenzo." Sophia's voice pulls me from my thoughts. Still hoarse, but getting stronger. "We need to talk about Luna."
My hands tighten on the steering wheel. We're five minutes from the compound. I'd hoped to have this conversation inside, somewhere private, but Sophia's done waiting.
"I was interrogating her. She showed up at my office claiming she had information about Bruno."
Sophia turns to look at me.
"Where is she now?"
I keep my eyes on the road. "Locked in the safe room at Rosso's. Liam's been bringing her food."
"Liam?"
"I need her alive. For now." My jaw clenches. "She knows things. About my family. About what happened twelve years ago."
"What kind of things?"
Christ, how do I tell her this? How do I explain that my whole family lied to me, that my brothers betrayed me in ways I'm still processing?
"She was pregnant when she left." The words taste like ash. "I don't know if it was mine. Maybe Riccardo's."
Sophia's sharp intake of breath fills the car.
"Your brother?"
"The one who was fucking the woman I loved behind my back. Yeah. That one."
Four days, and the rage hasn't dimmed. If Riccardo wasn't already dead, I'd kill him myself.
"Bruno knew," I continue. "He helped her fake her death. Arranged the car bomb, got her out of the country. Kept it secret for twelve years."
"Oh my God." Sophia's hand finds mine again. "Lorenzo, I'm so sorry."
I pull the car to a stop just inside the gates and turn to look at her. The bruises on her throat have faded to yellow-green, but I can still see the ghost of Daniil's fingers there. It makes me want to kill him all over again.
"Sophia." I reach out, cup her face with my free hand. "Whatever you saw, whatever you thought when you came to my office—it wasn't what you think."
Her eyes search mine, still guarded.
"I saw you with her. Against the wall."
"I was going to kill her." The truth comes out flat, matter-of-fact. "I had my hand around her throat. If she hadn't started talking about Bruno and Riccardo, she'd be dead right now."
Sophia's eyes widen slightly, but she doesn't pull away.
"You ran before you could hear me threatening to put a bullet in her skull for what she did to my family." My thumb traces her cheekbone. "There's nothing between Luna and me except rage and the need for answers."
"But she was your first love."
"She was my first mistake." I lean closer, needing her to understand. "You're my only love. The only one that matters. The only one that's real."
Sophia's breath catches. She looks down at our joined hands, processing.
"What about the baby?" she asks quietly. "Did she... did she have it?"
The question I've been avoiding for four days.
"I don't know." The admission burns. "She mentioned being pregnant when she left. That's all. Whether she kept it, whether it survived, whether it was even mine..." I shake my head. "I don't know."
"Lorenzo—"
"It could be Riccardo's." The words come out harsh. "They were fucking behind my back. She could have been pregnant before she ever came to my bed. Or after. I don't know how long it went on."
Sophia's quiet for a moment, absorbing this.
"Do you want to know?"
It's the question I've been asking myself. Do I want to know if there's an eleven-year-old kid out there who might be mine? Do I want to know if Riccardo has a child who survived him? Do I want to open that door?
"I have to know." My voice is rough. "If there's a kid—mine or Riccardo's—they're family. They're Sartori blood. That means something."
"Even if it's Luna's child too?"
"The kid didn't choose their parents. If there's a child out there with Sartori blood, they deserve to know their family. To have our protection."
Sophia nods slowly. "When will you talk to her again?"
"Today. Liam is bringing her."