Chapter Two
Noah
Alarm bells went off in my head. Nobody—and that meant not a single fucking person—questioned my authority. My father’s health was not to be gambled with, and to know this woman, who was supposed to be looking out for his best interests, agreed with his stupid decision just pissed me off.
“Why should I drop it?” I asked him, keeping my gaze on her. “The hospital made it clear you needed to stay there, but you ignored their instructions.”
“Must we belabor the point in front of the newcomer?” Dad grumbled.
I heard the underlying weariness in his voice and felt bad for helping to cause it. “I’ll be more than happy to see the doctor out.”
I didn't add the words for good, but they hung in the air between us. She didn't appear fazed by my unrelenting stare, which I found unsettling.
“Wentworth,” she supplied. “My name is Dr. Wentworth, and I can see myself out.”
“Thank you for your time,” Dad said politely, and I frowned.
Why was he so charming with her after three minutes in her company? Why did he already trust her when he knew nothing about her? Following her to the door, I slapped my hand on it as she reached for the knob.
“Excuse me,” she said, her voice less confident than it had been.
Good.
“Why you?” I asked.
Staring a hole through the door, she said, “I don't understand the question.”
Neither of us had moved, and I saw the muscle in her throat move up and down as she swallowed. My intent was to make her nervous, to throw her off her game.
I wanted her rattled so she’d be unwittingly honest.
“Why did Grandview send you and not someone else?”
Stepping a few paces back, she faced me fully. “Because, Mr. Costa, I am at the top of my field. I’m a world-renowned thoracic surgeon, and am in fact overqualified to care for your father. But he’s a big enough donor that my chief of staff wanted only the best, so here I am.”
Taking one step toward her, I said, “A little arrogant, aren’t you, doctor?”
Her face reddened ever so slightly. “It’s not arrogant to state the facts.”
Not quite satisfied but at least pacified for the time being, I turned and walked away. As expected, I heard the front door open and close with a thud as I headed to the nearest security panel.
Dr. Wentworth drove a modest four-door sedan, which she climbed into with not a small bit of exasperation, throwing her medical bag over the headrest to the backseat. I practically heard the door slam and couldn't help smirking.
Only once she’d exited the gates and they’d closed behind her did I return to my father’s temporary room. “If not the hospital, then her? Is that your deal?”
“There’s nothing wrong with her. She’s pretty, she’s qualified, and she stood up to your boorish behavior.” Dad coughed into his handkerchief. “Which is the only reason you’re protesting.”
Moving over to the dry bar, I poured two fingers of bourbon and wished I could offer one to Dad. “So, attractiveness in a doctor ranks up there for you? I guess I shouldn't be surprised.”
“Nero.”
Closing my eyes, I downed the bourbon and opened them again, facing the man I loved more than anyone else on earth.
He only called me by my given name in specific circumstances. It made it more difficult to argue with him, which I suspected he knew.
“I cannot abide the thought of dying in a cold, sterile hospital room.”
A vise squeezed my heart. “You’re not—”
“I’m not done speaking,” he said, cutting off my interruption. “Do not make me spend my nights worried about the future from an impersonal place surrounded by people I don’t know.”
“Dammit, old man.” Crossing the room, I clasped the back of his head and rested my forehead against his. “You fight dirty.”
“There’s no other way to fight.”
Releasing him, I took one step back and assessed his pallor. Same as before, unfortunately. His prognosis wasn't great, but the odds were decent. Assuming he followed the doctor’s instructions and the antibiotics worked, he’d recover to about seventy percent of his previous strength.
I simply wasn't prepared to take chances with his life.
“Why don’t you bother your sister instead of me?” he asked, wiping his mouth again.
“She’s out shopping.”
“When isn’t she?” Dad returned.
“Besides, she isn’t sick and in need of constant care.”
“You don’t have to remind me of that fact every single hour.”
Pouring another drink, I carried it with me to the windows. The gray sky called to me somehow, as if it were where I belonged. Cloudy, heavy, burdened by life; those words could easily describe me.
Something about the doctor rubbed me the wrong way, and not just because she was on Dad’s side. When I first walked into the room and saw them together, a sense of familiarity struck me hard. Why would a complete stranger trigger some hazy, unformed memory?
I took a sip from my glass. “I want to run a background check on her.”
Though he coughed, Dad’s voice was strong when he responded. “You’ll do no such thing! The hospital already sent me her background check, which is more than they should have done.”
“Please, Dad. They're on the payroll. What else would they do?”
And yet, I wasn't comfortable with the choice they’d made. Who was Dr. Wentworth? Why send someone overqualified?
“I can see the cogs turning, son, and I’m telling you it’s not worth it. She’s perfectly competent, if nothing else.”
“As though I would settle for nothing more than basic competence when it comes to your health.” Turning back to face him, I saw the color of the sky mirrored in his complexion, and it made my chest hurt.
“Why must you question everything?” he demanded. “Just let it go!”
I had to laugh. “Because, old man, that’s what you taught me to do. Take nothing at face value. Double and triple check.”
“Well, with this, I’m ordering you to drop it. I don’t want them taking her back and sending in some prickly Nurse Ratched type bitch.”
Smiling, I decided to relent. For now. “Fine, but I’m keeping an eye on her.”
“Of course you are.”
And by that, I meant I would set up one of my men to follow her. No reason to divulge that bit of information to my father.
Because if I was right and there was something lurking under the surface, the pretty doctor would pay with her life.
“Daddy!”
We both turned at the sound of Vicki calling for Dad. Apparently, she was home from shopping.
“In here,” I answered. Not that he’d be anywhere else at this point.
She wafted into the room in the same manner as always, a spoiled mafia princess who expected to have the world dropped at her feet.
And got precisely that.
“Vittoria,” he said as she leaned down to hug him, enveloping both of us in a cloud of her spicy perfume.
“Why the full name, Daddy?” she asked, pushing out her lower lip in a pout. “Have I done something wrong?”
“It’s my fault for riling him up.”
Rounding on me, she smacked my arm. “Why would you do that?”
With a sour expression, I glanced down at my shoulder and back up at her. “The personal doctor made her first appearance today.”
“Her?” Leave it to Vicki to hone in on that piece of information first.
Dad groaned. “She’s overqualified. I like her; let’s drop it.”
“Sounds like you’ve rehashed this ad nauseam.” Vicki straightened the lapels of our father’s robe. “Noah being a pain in the ass?”
“I’m standing right here,” I protested.
“That you are.” With an indulgent smile, she kissed Dad’s cheek and straightened to study him. “Can I get you anything? A drink or a snack?”
And by that, she meant she would ring for a staff member to tend to his needs. Although I had to admit, she enjoyed spoiling him as much as he spoiled her.
“No, no, I just want you two to leave me be.”
“You’re tired,” she said, aiming accusatory eyes at me.
“I didn’t make him sick,” I protested.
“Sick of your face,” she countered. “We’ll let you rest.”
With another kiss to his cheek, she walked out of the room, dragging me with her. Once the door was closed, Vicki stood too close for comfort.
“Why are you against the doctor?” she demanded, hands on her hips.
“Do I need a specific reason?” Yes, I was evading her question. I couldn't pinpoint the reason, nor could I exactly explain myself.
“Is she unqualified? Will she make him worse?”
“You already know that I think he should be in the hospital under constant care, but he refuses. I’m having a hard time accepting his wishes, but the doctor is on his side.”
“Oh.” Tapping her heeled foot, Vicki dropped her arms. “Then doesn't that mean he’s fine to be here?”
I scrubbed my hands over my face. “Sure, I guess.”
She narrowed her eyes but didn't say anything else.
“Was Gio with you today?”
“No, I went with Justine. Why?”
“No reason. I haven't seen him in a few days, that’s all.”
I made it a point not to talk business with my sister, even if she was arranged to marry my closest friend. If our mother was still alive, we’d have the same rule for her.
“Then call him, dumbass.”
“Thanks, I can figure it out for myself.”
With a tittering laugh, she headed down the hallway, her skirt swishing behind her.
I loved my sister, but she was a spoiled brat. Gio would have his hands full with her, I was positive.
Then again, maybe he knew that already. We’d been around each other’s families enough over the years that we were practically brothers.
And they seemed to truly love one another—not that I understood much about that myself—so he probably knew what he was getting into.
My mind was still on Dr. Wentworth when I went to my home office. With Dad sick, the running of the businesses fell to me. Shipments were only a small part of our day, and that was only to cover for the less legal dealings.
Mostly, we ran weapons of the specialty kind.
Arms and ammunition that weren’t allowed in the US could be bought for an exorbitant price if one tried hard enough.
It was a dangerous business, considering that we dealt with countries that weren’t afraid to kill us, take the money, and keep the weapons to sell to someone else instead of holding up their end of the bargain.
When we were nearing a buy, I wouldn't be available at all for the forty-eight hours ahead of time. We planned the location, the swap, and the men down to the most minute details. Anything less and we’d find ourselves holding the short end of the stick.
Foreign nationals were notorious for trying to change up the minutiae at the last minute, either to throw us off our game or to actually try to do damage.
I was expecting Lorenzo Mancini to stop by, so I set up the liquor cart and put out his favorite cigarettes. There were staff who could do that instead, but something about doing it soothed me. Maybe I was a housekeeper in another life.
While I waited, I set up the surveillance of Dr. Sailor Wentworth of Grandview General Hospital. My guy would tail her around town, back and forth to the mansion, and see if she met with anyone interesting. For all I knew, I was being paranoid, but I didn't trust easily and had no reason to.
When the butler informed me Mancini had arrived, I set aside everything else and waited expectantly.
“Noah,” he greeted me as he came in my open door.
“Lorenzo.”
We shook hands before sitting down, and I gestured to the cart. “Please, take what you want.”
“Thank you for offering,” he said as he lit a cigarette.
“It’s nothing.”
Any long-standing associate deserved whatever I could give them when they were as loyal as Lorenzo.
We spent the next few hours hashing out the plan for the upcoming buy, but I found I couldn't concentrate as thoroughly as I wanted to. My father’s health was always at the back of my mind, and now Sailor resided there too.
And I could be wrong entirely. She could be exactly who she claimed, and the hospital could have sent who they thought would match the best with my dad.
We gave them lavish amounts of money each month to keep their mouths shut about what they saw and who they treated, and I knew they wouldn't intentionally send anyone who couldn't care for my father properly.
But what if she had them fooled, too?
Suspicion came with the territory, of course, but my brain was like a dog with a bone.
It refused to let go of this scenario it had conjured up.
If she was sent here to harm him somehow or just not do her job right, then who would benefit from such a scheme?
The Russos? The Lombardis? They were technically our enemies, but nobody had tried any outright maneuvers in years.
Subtlety was more their style, and interfering with my father’s doctor would only gain them me as their rival sooner than expected.
Trading one don for the next wasn't an issue unless the successor was weak.
Which I most certainly was not.
At thirty-six, I’d spent decades working at my father’s side.
None of the other families saw me as weak or unprepared to take over.
By that point, it was probably an expected announcement, untimed but inevitable.
The only reason we hadn't made it official yet was that I didn't want my father to feel like he had nothing left to live for when he was still thriving.
Perhaps I was the one fooling myself, and everyone else saw the truth. My father was unlikely to gain his full strength back and would only be available for consultations regarding the business. I wasn’t just the interim don; I was his heir, the next in line, the face of the Costa family.
It just broke my heart to admit it.