Salvatore

48. Salvatore

48

SALVATORE

I groan, my brain coming online before the rest of my body, my head throbbing, my thoughts groggy. I’m uncomfortable as fuck, my chest sore, my throat like sandpaper.

I open my eyes and find myself in a hospital room, the fluorescents too bright, the starched bedsheet obnoxiously scratchy.

“Look who’s finally awake,” someone mutters.

I blink my vision into focus, finding a tall, bearded asshole standing beside my bed.

Of all the people who could’ve been holding vigil at my bedside, Bishop is the last motherfucker I want to see, especially when he’s in the company of some random kid I’ve never seen before, the boy no older than six or seven.

I swallow, trying to clear the desert from my throat. “How long have I been out?”

Bishop winces. “It’s been a while, man.”

I groan again, racking my brain for information, trying to slot together pieces of memory. Lorenzo—dead. Ivy…

“Where is she?” I rasp.

“She’s fine. I’ll send her a message and let her know you’re awake.” He pulls his cell from his suit jacket and begins typing, all while that bright-eyed kid stares at me like I invented the PlayStation.

“And the baby?” I attempt to sit up, but there’s no strength in my arms.

The wince returns to Bishop’s features as he pockets his phone and reaches for the kid, leading him forward by the shoulders to stand closer to my bed. “As you can see, the kid is just fine. Aren’t you, buddy?” He ruffles the boy’s hair. “It’s been a long six years, but finally, you can say hello to your dad.”

I’m pretty sure my soul leaves my body as I stare at the child, the darkest shade of blue eyes staring back at me.

“Hello, Papa.” The boy cracks a wobbly smile.

Holy fuck.

I attempt to sit up higher than the slightly inclined bed will allow, but my body revolts in pain, the agony slicing through my abdomen. “ Six years ?”

I’ve been out six fucking years?

Bishop’s lips quirk as he grabs the bed remote, inclining my mattress. The insidious expression escalates into a chuckle that morphs into a cackle, then outright hysterics. He’s laughing his ass off by the time I’m finally sitting upright, then reaches inside his jacket and retrieves a money clip.

“Here.” He hands two twenties to the boy and jerks his head toward the door. “Good work, my man. Now scram.”

The boy’s eyes alight as he snatches the cash and runs for the hall. “Bye, mister.”

What in the fuck?

My brain is too sluggish to comprehend where the hell my kid is going or why the fuck my brothers aren’t here.

And Ivy?

I need Ivy.

“You should see your face.” Bishop snickers. “That’s the funniest shit I’ve ever seen.”

“Are you fucking with me?” I croak, my throat too sore to yell. “Was that my kid or not?”

“Of course it’s not your fucking kid. Do I look six years older, moron?”

The parental-induced panic subsides as I glare at him. Livid. Homicidal. “Excuse me for not having the mental fucking capacity to read the room seconds after waking from unconsciousness.”

“The kid also had blue eyes, brainiac.” He chuckles. “How do you think you and Ivy could’ve thrown those baby blues?”

I grate my molars, the ache of my body fading under the strain in my locked jaw. “Again,” I growl. “That thought didn’t cross my mind while I was spiraling in parental panic, motherfucker. How long have I been out?”

“Three days.”

“ Three days ?” I repeat.

Three days and this fucker has somehow already been deemed my custodian?

I raise a hand, staring at the bruises on my arm and fingers riddled in shades of blue and purple.

Bishop cringes. “If you think your arm looks bad, you should see your face. Your whole aesthetic is kinda fucked up, which is a shame, because it’s not like you have a personality to fall back on.”

I swear to God, if I had the strength…

“Why are you here?” I snarl.

It would make more sense if I was alone—left to rot.

He strides for the door and glances into the hall. “You literally picked the only time in the last three days where this room hasn’t been filled with your siblings psychotically watching you sleep. They all went to the cafeteria to get a bite to eat.”

He said siblings . Not Ivy.

Did she run? Or worse, was she hurt?

I don’t want to ask. The physical pain is bad enough. But I can’t stop the question from clawing its way out of my mouth. “What about Ivy? Where is?—”

“She’s with them.”

“Is she okay?”

“She’s fine?—”

“And the baby?”

“Jesus Christ, what’s with the inquisition? Do I look like a fucking oracle?” He strolls back toward me, brows pinched. “Look, I don’t typically tend to ask women about the functionality of their uterus at the best of times, so I’m not a reliable source, but I haven’t heard any bad news if that’s any consolation.”

No. It’s not enough.

I need to know. I have to find out if she’s okay.

“I’m sure I would’ve been told if something happened. Abri hasn’t left her side. She’s taking good care of your woman.”

Your woman. Mine .

He reaches for a plastic cup of water on the drawers beside my bed and moves it toward me, nailing me in the nose with the straw. “Here. Drink. It’ll stop you yapping for a beat.”

I glare, batting away the straw, then snatch at the cup. “If I’ve only been out three days, who the fuck was that kid?”

He smirks. “He’s been roaming the halls, trying to find trouble since we got here. Apparently he’s got a brother that’s a long-term patient in the pediatric ward, so yesterday I offered him some cash if he happened to be in the right place at the right time. He’s been waiting within earshot ever since.”

I take a sip of water, the liquid never having tasted so good before I shove the cup back at him. “You’re a sick fuck, Bishop.”

“I’m fucking hilarious, that’s what I am. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life retelling the story.”

“If that’s your plan, I wouldn’t anticipate a lengthy life expectancy.”

“And if I were you, I’d wait until the organ donor team stopped stalking past your room before you started making threats.”

I’m about to double down when a stampede of footsteps echo up the hall.

There’s a warning shout of, “ Hey, no running, ” and another to, “ Slow down .” Then Matthew is at my door, face drawn and grey, lips parted with what I assume is bewilderment.

Abri barrels up beside him, hair wild around her cheeks. She’s followed by Remy, then Layla.

“Nice to see you awake, brother.” Matthew takes a tentative step inside the room. “I wasn’t sure if we’d get to see the day.”

There’s no Ivy. No Olivia.

“Where is she?” My heart pounds beneath aching ribs.

“It’s nice to see you, too.” Abri grins and leans backward, glancing down the hall. “Give her roughly twenty seconds. She needs to take it easy. Doctor’s orders.”

The pounding escalates into thumping, my heart threatening to crack more ribs until her voice meets my ears.

“Is he really awake?” Ivy asks from somewhere out of view. “Is he okay?”

Remy steps to the side. Abri, too. Followed by Matthew and Layla.

Then there she is, dark eyes wide, long hair loose around her shoulders, expression filled with the most exquisite relief despite her looking completely exhausted.

She sucks in a shocked breath, her hand clasping the bottom of her throat.

Christ, she’s so damn beautiful it hurts to look at her.

She stares at me, gaze turning glassy, lower lip trembling.

I want to tell her not to cry, but there’s no words to fill the void of relief ripping open my chest.

“Why don’t we give them a minute?” Olivia grabs Remy’s hand, leading him back into the hall.

I don’t give a fuck if they stay. As far as I’m concerned nobody else exists. Ivy’s all I see. All I care about.

“Come here.” I stretch out a hand.

She walks for me, her pace quickening until she’s rushing toward me, bumping into the side of my bed, then delicately sliding her hands around my neck.

I close my eyes at the feel of her, breathing her in, clinging boneless arms around her.

“I was scared you weren’t going to wake up,” she whispers. “I was so damn scared, Salvatore.”

“I’d fight my way back from death a thousand times over for you, mi reina. ”

She sniffs as the door clicks shut, the noise from the hall fading.

“Tell me you’re okay.” I glide my touch over her—her head, her shoulders, her back.

“I am.” She nuzzles into me. “Your family are crazy, though. They won’t let me out of their sight. Your sister literally guards the door if I need to use the bathroom.”

“I’ll have to thank her for that.”

She pulls back, those commanding eyes fathomless. “You will not be thanking her. I haven’t had a chance to be alone with my thoughts, and it’s killed me.”

“You’ve had a lot to think about, mi reina ?” I want to ask about the baby. About our child. But I can’t stand the thought of seeing her glassy-eyed again.

She winces. “Do you remember what happened?”

“I remember Lorenzo’s penthouse.”

She lowers her gaze to the bed, her brows pulled tight.

“I think I remember most of it.” I don’t want to put her through a recap.

She swallows, her throat working overtime as those sad eyes return to mine. “You were beaten. Stabbed. You had a punctured lung, a dislocated shoulder, and will be recovering from multiple broken ribs and a bullet wound on your thigh for quite some time.” She blinks faster, tears starting to gloss over her gorgeous eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey.” I palm her chin, dragging my thumb across her bottom lip. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

She scoffs. “You sound like your siblings.”

“Well, in that case, this will probably be the first and only time I admit that maybe they’re not as dumb as I’d thought.”

She smiles—small, forced, a fragile light against the darkness of her heartache. But all too soon it fades into sadness. “You stopped breathing.” She scrunches her nose, the threat of those tears almost spilling over. “Your brothers shoved you in a car and took off… There was no room for me… I thought I’d never see you?—”

“My brothers left you at the bunker?” I snap my gaze to the glass doors, glaring my fury at Matthew and Remy.

“No.” Ivy grabs my hand. “I left with Cole and his men. Sarah, too. They took good care of me while your brothers focused on you. I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.”

I cling to her, my bruised and battered fingers entangled with her perfectly beautiful ones. “They should never have left you.”

“They were distraught.”

“I highly doubt it.”

She straightens. “Salvatore, I’ve never seen grown men more in fear of losing someone than your brothers have been over you. They’ve demanded the best care. Have flown in the most experienced doctors. And then there’s the revenge…”

I quirk a brow. “I’m listening.”

She rolls her eyes, batting away a stray tear. “While you’ve been napping, they’ve had their men out on the streets dealing with all loose ends associated with Gabriel. Anyone who survived has fled the state.”

“Have the cops been a problem?”

“Not that I know of. But your family are pretty tight-lipped when it comes to sharing news with me.”

I nod, appreciating that they’ve sheltered her. “Okay.” I raise our entwined hands and kiss her knuckles. “So if the cops are contained and I’m finally awake, why do you still look devastated?”

“Because I am.” She forces a smile that only makes more tears well in her eyes. “I’ve been the contributing factor for too many horrible situations. Gabriel and Alonso are dead, and although I’m relieved, I know my mom must be devastated. Then there’s Lorenzo—which I’m truly sorry for—and…”

“And?”

Her nose scrunches in a mix of frustration and something deeper. “And I thought I was going to lose you, and as strange as that is—” She rolls her eyes, the sarcasm thick. “—because I don’t even really like you that much… it messed with me… a lot .”

“You don’t really like me, mi reina ?”

She shrugs, battling a smirk. “Not really.”

“That’s funny, because I could’ve sworn I heard you say you loved me in that bunker.”

“That was probably a hallucination from the blood loss.”

“Is that so?” I tug her toward me, drawing her close. “Funny, because it didn’t feel like a hallucination. It felt like heaven.”

“That must’ve been some wildly violent slice of paradise when you had more injuries than a war veteran.”

“Anywhere with you is heaven, Ivy. I don’t care what state I’m in.”

This time her smile reaches her eyes, the warm glow in her cheeks like a shot of pure fucking adrenaline into my veins. But it’s not enough to distract me from what I need to know.

I place our entwined hands to my chest, right on top of my charcoal-riddled heart. “What about our child, Ivy?”

She stills, the abrupt shift rattling me, until her face softens, the tension in her features dissolving into a quiet resolve. “I’m being monitored.”

“Meaning what?”

“My doctor thinks the pregnancy might still be viable.”

A sharp pang hits my gut. “But Gabriel—he forced you?—”

“After you were taken from the bunker I made myself throw up… Well, I actually made myself continuously throw up for ten hours, because I was paranoid about the medication still being in my system. But I was told the second pill is usually needed to complete the abortion, and so far nothing alarming has happened. Nurses have been running regular blood tests to check my hormone levels, and it’s… looking promising.”

Looking promising.

No better words have ever been spoken.

I wrap a hand around her neck and drag her closer, stealing her mouth with my own.

I kiss the life I almost lost into her. I kiss my love. My devotion.

Then I lean back and rest my forehead against hers. “You promised me marriage, mi bella reina. And hallucination or not, I will be holding you to it.”

“Okay,” she whispers against my lips.

“Okay?”

She nods. “Only if you insist.”

“Oh, I fucking insist, troublemaker. I want my ring on your finger and your body in my bed until the day I die.”

“Given you’re currently on death watch, I guess the prospect isn’t all that daunting.” Her eyes gleam as she beams at me. “ But .” She places a lone finger to my sternum, adding slight pressure. “Just as long as you realize I expect somewhat of a normal relationship—honesty, transparency, and most of all, fidelity.”

“That goes without saying.”

“I hope so. Because cheating on me is easy, Salvatore Costa. But learning how to walk again after I shoot you in the kneecaps will be hard.”

I grin. “Understood.”

“I’m serious. If you make me regret my decision, I’ll dig up your dead grandmother and use her as a Halloween decoration. I won’t go down a path that leads to a life similar to what Gabriel had planned for me.”

I cup her cheek, fucking frothing over her violence as I graze my thumb across her soft skin. “I promise to spend the rest of my life making sure you’re as far away from what he envisaged as humanly possible, no matter how long or short that time might be.”

Her eyes soften as she leans into my touch. “I believe you… I wish I didn’t, but I do.”

“Then believe this, too—I’m not a jealous guy, but if any man flirts with you, I will run them over with my car.”

She chuckles, and fuck, it’s mesmerizing. The seven wonders of the world ain’t got shit on this woman’s beauty.

“But what if I’m a flirty type of girl?” She bats her lashes.

I steal another kiss. “Then you either learn to curb the urge, or get used to my efficiency in creating man-made speed bumps.”

She smiles against my lips. “I don’t want to flirt with anyone but you.”

“Good. I hope you endeavor to keep it that way for the sake of mankind.”

We fall into a silent state of being. Teasing kisses. Gentle touches. Until I’m tempted to drag her onto my mangled body and give us both some relief.

“I think your family have had enough of us making out.” She groans. “I should let them in.”

“No, thanks.” I grab her wrist as she attempts to retreat. “You know they’ve never held anything other than contempt for me. They can wait until after you’ve given me a much-needed sponge bath.”

She snickers. “Sponge baths are Nurse Darren’s job, and he enjoys them way too much for me to take them away from him. And besides, the strained relationship with your siblings stemmed from the persona you felt forced to adopt under your parents’ manipulation. It’s about time you worked on reclaiming what they stole from you.”

“We can work on it later.” I cling tighter to her wrist, but she slips from my weakened fingers.

“I know you’re a brutal man, Salvatore, but how can you look at those pleading faces and make them wait?”

I follow her gaze, finding Abri standing mere inches from my hospital door window, Matthew hovering behind her left shoulder while Remy stares at us over the top of Olivia’s head, all of them watching us.

Ivy turns back to me. “They feel guilty and have been worried sick about losing you. They only leave the hospital to shower and sleep. They even organized to have men guard every entrance of the hospital to ensure you were safe.”

“That’s protocol.”

“No.” She retreats another step. “That’s love.” She walks for the door before I can think of another excuse to stop her.

“Ivy, wait.”

She pauses, glancing over her shoulder at me, her fingers reaching for the door handle.

“We’re not done talking.”

Her smile is soft and slow to form, a hint of vulnerability shining through. “We have the rest of our lives to talk. But right now, they need to hear that you’re okay.”

She pulls the door wide, and my siblings, along with their significant others’, flood the room, asking questions, offering food, plumping my pillows, and straightening my sheets.

I don’t drag my attention away from Ivy—from my future wife and the mother of my child—as my family annoy the ever-loving fuck out of me.

“ Talk ,” she mouths, a command wrapped in affection, urging me to let my family back in after years of pushing them away.

I drag in a deep breath, not ready, not willing. But I’d do fucking anything to make her happy.

I turn my attention to my siblings, forcing the words out. “So, is someone going to give me an update on where we’re at?”

Matthew pulls up a chair and sits by my bedside. “Well, your townhouse is tinder.”

“And so is the chapel at the funeral home,” Olivia laments as Remy drags her in for a side hug.

“But the working part of the building is still intact, which is where Lorenzo has been taken,” Bishop adds. “His sons arrived yesterday and took over the funeral arrangements.”

“His sons?” I frown. “Lorenzo mentioned them before he passed, but that was the first I’d heard of them.”

“He deliberately kept their existence quiet.” Remy’s face is impassive. “They were sent away as kids to keep them safe.”

“And now they run New York, as ruthless as their father, but smart enough to keep their dirty legacy out of sight.” Bishop wraps his arms around Abri’s waist from behind and rests his chin on her shoulder. “You’ll have the misfortune of meeting them if you can get your lazy ass out of hospital for the funeral at the end of the week.”

“Are they a threat?” I hold out a hand, beckoning Ivy forward.

“No.” Matthew’s tone is adamant. “Not to your position or Lorenzo’s legacy, anyway. They want no part in what their father built. But they’re dangerous, smart, and calculated. They’re the kind to slit your throat with a smile. So don’t give them a reason to look your way.”

A slow grin tilts my mouth. “They sound like my kind of people.”

“Yeah, that tracks,” Bishop drawls. “They’re also conceited, authoritative assholes, so y’all could be twinsies.”

Abri chuckles, playfully elbowing him in the ribs. “Go easy on him. You’ve already caused enough trauma with that six-year coma stunt.”

I glare, pissed that he followed through on his threat to share the story.

“Cole agrees that his sons aren’t anything to worry about.” Layla snickers, covering it with a pitiful cough. “Just don’t go making plans to invite them to the wedding.”

Ivy sucks in a breath as she hesitantly places her hand in mine.

Wedding ?

“You told them we were getting married, mi reina ?” I search her face, my eyes narrowed, my curiosity piqued. “That’s surprising after claiming you didn’t really like me.”

Her lips twitch. “The feeling comes and goes. Blame the hormones.”

“If she doesn’t like you, I’d hate to see how she’d act if she did,” Olivia mutters. “The woman is damn near frothing at the mouth.”

Ivy shoots her best friend a scathing look. “Your wedding invitation is revoked.”

Olivia snorts. “Good luck keeping me away.”

My siblings snicker and mutter amongst themselves about a wedding that will need more security than a prison yard while I stare at Ivy, owning her gaze like she owns my soul, and knowing, without a shadow of a doubt that if I die—today, tomorrow, or even in ten years from now—my love for her will burn just as fiercely on my death bed as it does in this moment.

If not more.