42. Dante
Chapter 42
Dante
I am greeted by a friendly face at the receptionist’s desk in the hospital. She hands me some paperwork, and I quickly fill it out, anxious to see Enzo. The woman’s fingers dance across the keyboard as she enters my information into the computer, a soft hum escaping her lips. After a few moments, she looks up at me with a kind smile and hands me a slip of paper with Enzo’s room number and some directions.
Enzo didn’t want me to come to the hospital. He said he was fine and he’d be out in no time, but this is personal.
When I enter his room, he’s flirting with a nurse. He’s propped up in bed, surrounded by white sheets and pillows, looking at the woman as if she hung the moon just for him. “C’mon, it’s just dinner. If I can let you change my bandages, you can let me take you out.”
The nurse’s eyes widen in surprise as she catches sight of me. A deep shade of crimson creeps up her cheeks, highlighting the freckles that dot her skin. She quickly pulls away from Enzo’s bedside, a look of guilt and embarrassment crossing her features. “I’ll check on you later, Mr. Castelli.” Then she hurries out of the room, avoiding eye contact.
As the door closes, he hits me with an accusation. “You’re nothing but a cockblock,” Enzo glares. “And didn’t I tell you not to visit?”
“I didn’t know you were running game on the local talent,” I grin. “She was pretty. What’s her name?”
“Clara,” Enzo’s voice rings out decisively, but then he wavers and changes his mind a moment later. “No, Miriam. Clara’s the night nurse.”
I shake my head and walk over to the chart at the foot of the bed. “So you’ve got multiple fish on the line.”
Enzo lets out an exasperated sigh and shifts his weight, sinking into the stiff hospital pillows. “There’s nothing else to do. It’s either hit on the nurses or watch daytime television. Did you know The Price Is Right is still on TV?”
I can’t remember the last time I watched television. I don’t have the time or inclination. There’s too much to do and not enough time. “I can’t say I’m familiar with the cable line-up these days. Let me know if there’s something I should tune into.”
The medical chart is filled with notes and scribbles, all signed with Silas’ messy signature. The paperwork mentions a wound, its origin unknown, but the notes meticulously document everything from the initial surgery to the late-night check-ins. “How are you feeling? Stone told me about the infection.”
“It’s bullshit, is what it is. I told him I was feeling a little hot and the incision site was a little sore. Next thing I know, he’s calling you to say I have an infection and I need antibiotics. I figure the whole thing is a scam to get more money out of you,” Enzo replies defiantly.
“Or it’s because you had an infection.” It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “He said you had a fever, the incision was inflamed, and there was pus.”
Enzo turns away from me to stare at the window. “Whatever. I’m fine,” he mutters, clenching his fists at his sides.
I have to be careful with Enzo sometimes. He’s a tough guy, the kind who prides himself on being too big and too strong to fuck with. But when someone inevitably fucks with guys like Enzo, they take it hard. “When you get out of here tomorrow, we’ve got some planning to do.” The best way to tackle a bruised ego is to get Enzo thinking about something else.
“Planning?” He tilts his head ever so slightly, a subtle gesture that hints at his interest. “What kind of planning? I’ll be laid up for a while,” he grumbles.
I’ve dealt with men more stubborn than my bodyguard and best friend. The key to getting through to them is slowly planting an idea in their minds and allowing them to believe they are in control and can make the final decision. It’s a delicate dance, but one that I have mastered over time. “We’ve got to make Tommaso pay for what he did. I have some ideas, but I don’t want to do anything without you by my side.”
Enzo slowly turns to look at me. “I want to kill the bastard.”
I don’t have the heart to tell him that I haven’t gotten confirmation from Adalina that we can do that. I don’t want him to think she’s more important than him. She’s been through so much, and all I want is to protect her from any further pain. If I push too hard, I fear I might break the beautiful, resilient woman who has captured my heart. “I promise you he’ll be dealt with.”
“I want him to suffer,” Enzo stipulates.
That’s a request that will be easy to fulfill. Tommaso will end up in one of two places when I’m through with him. He will either rot in the dungeon beneath the mansion, his screams echoing through the corridors as we torment him for the rest of his life, or he will be buried alive, his body left to suffocate and decompose in the cold earth. Either way, he will not escape the punishment to come.