60. Allegra
Chapter 60
Allegra
“ D ante?” I mumble through my dry mouth, cracking my heavy eyes open.
“I am here, Principessa .” I hear the relief and desperation in his voice as he crowds me.
“ Mia figlia ,” Mamma gasps before she appears in my line of sight.
My chest tightens at the clear worry on her face.
“Leg,” my brother sounds relieved, though I see tension in his eyes.
“What happened?” I ask, planting my hands on the bed and trying to shift myself up into a sitting position.
Of course, Dante doesn’t allow it.
He glares at me, gently gripping me under my arms and shuffling me up the bed. Pain radiates through me, and I grit my teeth when I remember the reason that I am here.
I was shot.
Grabbing the blanket, I pull it back, revealing the hideous oversized hospital gown covering my body. I should have expected it really. It’s not like I would be left naked with my wound on display
A big hand takes mine, pulling the blanket back in place. I glance up at Dante. The guilt on his face almost cripples me and I frown. Tilting my head, I repeat my question. “What happened?”
Dante blows out a breath, scrubbing a palm across his jaw, pain clear in his dark gaze. “Angel…” he starts, then trails off. My heart pumps hard in my chest, panic rising as I pin him with a no nonsense look. “You were shot.”
“Okay,” I respond slowly, my gaze flickering between the three of them. I get the feeling they are hiding something. “What is going on?” I demand.
“Baby,” Dante whispers, shame in that one word. Fixing my gaze on my husband, I prepare myself for the bomb that he is clearly about to drop. “It was me. I was the one that shot you.”
My jaw drops open at the unexpected news. Whatever I was expecting – and I knew it was bad from his demeanor – it wasn’t that. I shake my head, denying his words.
“No. We were surrounded, by who I assume were Riccardo’s men. One of them shot me when they tried to grab me from the trunk.”
Dante clutches my hand tighter, his free hand gripping my jaw, so I have no choice but to look at him.
“It was me,” he affirms. “I saw those men and couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to you. I fired my gun without thought and though I took out the soldiers, a bullet must have ricocheted and caught you somehow. It was an accident. One I will regret until the day I die.” The emotion in his voice has tears springing to my eyes.
He drops his chin to his chest, hiding his shame from me.
Reaching up, I cup his face. Dante would never purposely hurt me. I know that with every fiber in my body. Despite the pain, I believe that he saved me from a worse fate had they gotten ahold of me. One my brain cannot even begin to comprehend. Who knows what would have happened had the plan to take me worked out in their favor. Because it’s clear it’s what they set out to do.
Take me.
So even though my husband shot me in his effort to keep me safe, it was merely an unfortunate incident.
“Husband?” I whisper, willing him to look at me. Dante’s eyes snap up, a feral look in his gaze at that word. “You saved me,” I tell him honestly.
Dante shakes his head. “But I could have killed you. I will never forgive myself for hitting you and marring your perfect skin,” he argues, turning his head and pressing a kiss to my palm.
“No. You stop this self-pity right now. You. Saved. Me.” I enunciate in case he didn’t hear it the first time. “Who knows what they would have done if they had gotten their hands on me.”
Dante shudders, releasing my hand and chin. He cups my face, pulling me in and pressing kisses to my forehead, cheeks, lips and anywhere else he can touch.
“I am not worthy of you. Of your strength. Your resilience. Your forgiveness. Your compassion.”
Chuckling, I pull back to meet his gaze. “You are the only man worthy of me.”
Dante sighs, releasing me. “We will agree to disagree.”
I shake my head, turning to face my mamma. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, honey. I am fine,” she tells me with watery eyes.
Nodding, I look to my brother, who is grimacing – no doubt at the loving scene currently playing out in front of him – when I remember the other people in the SUV with me. “Is everyone else okay? Alessio? Gio? Dario?”
“Gio was shot but it’s a flesh wound, so he will survive. Leo was also shot in the church–”
I gasp, cutting him off. Like Dante, I grew up with Leo. The thought of him being injured or worse, is not something I want to consider.
“Please tell me he is alive?”
Nico exhales a tired breath. “He is. He had to have surgery to remove the bullet and repair a tear to his spleen. He is recovering as we speak.”
Relaxing a little, I soak in my brother’s words. Despite being seriously injured, Leo is okay. My brows furrow when something else comes back to me. Anger ignites in my veins, my eyes narrowing as I glower at Nico, then my husband.
“Why didn’t you tell me what was happening?” I accuse. “You both lied to me. You let me go into this blind. I deserved more than that,” I snap.
“Fucking hell,” Nico groans, scrubbing a hand down his face. “I was waiting for your outburst.”
“Well?” I prompt, settling my glare on Dante.
Mamma laughs, padding toward the door. “I’m going to get more coffee.”
“Take a couple of guards with you,” Nico demands.
“Yes, mia figlio, ” Mamma parries, easily agreeing, before pulling the door open and leaving.
I turn back to my husband, brow raised in silent question. He groans, looking at my brother accusingly.
“It was Nic’s idea.”
“And still you didn’t think to tell me? I am your wife,” I growl.
“Yeah, you are, principessa .” He kisses my hair. “Your brother thought it was safer for you.”
I snort out a laugh. “Safer? I’m in the damn hospital.”
Dante flinches, guilt flickering across his face. Emotion tightens my throat and I inhale, trying to calm myself.
“Leg, believe it or not, it was for your own safety. I just didn’t anticipate Riccardo having a backup plan,” Nico tells me.
Huffing, I settle back against my pillows, mulling over their words. I could argue about this until I am blue in the face, but it’s done now, and we have more important things to consider. I was shot. I could have died. Dante did ‘die’ and by some twist of fate, he came back to me.
Am I really going to sit here, wasting my time on something so insignificant now?
No, I am not.
It’s all about perspective. And right now, none of the little things matter.
“Where is Riccardo?” I ask with trepidation.
Dante grins cruelly, a manic look in his eyes. “Waiting for me to dish out the revenge he deserves.”
Naturally those words make me feel marginally better. I know how this world works.
And come the end of the week, I suspect, Riccardo will no longer be breathing.