Chapter 36
Anton
The hospital room was too fucking quiet. Too sterile. The steady beep of the monitors was the only thing breaking the silence, a rhythmic pulse that was both reassuring and driving me insane at the same time.
Serena lay in the hospital bed, her dark lashes a stark contrast against pale cheeks. Her already slender frame looked thinner than usual, and I tried to ignore how frail she appeared. The painkillers had kept her under for most of the past two days, leaving her in a medicated haze. She hadn’t been awake long enough to ask questions yet, and it had been a blessing. I wasn’t ready to give her the answers she would surely seek. Because when that moment came, I’d have to tell her the truth.
Sylvia Martinelli was dead.
My jaw clenched, and I dragged a hand down my face. I had been by Serena’s side since the moment she was admitted, refusing to leave even when the doctors told me she needed rest. The bullet had gone clean through her shoulder—no major damage, no complications. She would make a full recovery. But knowing that didn’t do a damn thing to settle the fury building inside me.
I picked up her hand, brushing my thumb gently over the top of it, careful not to disturb the IV. Someone had done this to her—to my princess. Someone had set fire to her world and then tried to end her life with a bullet. I’d spoken to the municipal police, and they claimed to have no leads on who pulled the trigger. That might’ve been true, but I didn’t trust it. There were too many rumors about corruption within Italian law enforcement, and I couldn’t take their word for it.
But it was of no concern to me. I’d already made a promise to myself to find the one responsible. I didn’t care how far I had to go or what lines I had to cross. They’d made her a target, and now they were mine.
The door opened behind me, and I didn’t need to turn to know it was Zeke.
“We need to move,” he said without preamble. “It’s not safe for you here. Paparazzi are swarming the place. Not sure if it was the police or the firemen, but someone talked and now the whole world knows you’re here. I took the liberty of hiring a publicist. She’s back in New York, managing the press by releasing regular statements. It will hold off the worst of things for a bit, but a publicist won’t do anything to protect Serena. And if someone is after her, you could also have a target on your back.”
Not taking my eyes off Serena’s sleeping form, I said, “She’s not strong enough to go anywhere yet.”
“Boss, I can’t stress this enough.” Zeke stepped closer, his voice low. “I can’t protect you here alone. I need more security. The best thing we can do is get you back to New York.”
I considered his concern, already formulating a plan to address it, and looked back at Serena’s sleeping form. Her features were drawn but peaceful under the haze of pain medication. When she eventually woke, she was in for a world of hurt that no medicine would be able to numb. Her mother was dead, and the one friend she’d mentioned had become estranged. As far as I knew, she had nobody to support and protect her. She was alone, but I wasn’t going to let her stay that way.
I turned my attention back to Zeke.
“You’re right. Security is better back home. So, we’ll bring Serena back to New York with us. She’ll be protected there,” I said, my voice hardening as the realization of how far I’d go to keep her safe suddenly hit me. I couldn’t stomach the thought of anyone trying to hurt her again. I didn’t know when or how it happened, but I knew I’d do anything for her.
Zeke nodded once. “What do you propose?”
“The third-floor apartment. Club O,” I said without hesitation.
His brow lifted slightly. “You sure?”
“It’s the only option,” I said flatly. “Nobody other than the members knows the club exists. It’s the best-kept secret in New York, hidden in plain sight, and it’s the one place no one would ever think to look. We know who’s in that club every minute of the day. It’s the safest place for her.”
“You’re probably right. I’ll make the travel arrangements for us.”
I shook my head. “She’s still too weak to travel. She needs time before we can move her—a few days at least.”
“Time is a luxury we don’t have, but there are options.” Zeke studied me for a beat, then continued. “I’ll make a few calls, see about booking a private jet—medical-equipped. We can leave by tomorrow.”
“Do it,” I said with a nod. International travel wouldn’t pose a problem. Thankfully, Serena’s passport had been in the purse that she’d had with her the day the house burned down. She also had several duffle bags of personal effects in the backseat of her car, presumably bags that she’d never unpacked after leaving Rome. Zeke had found them the day prior, when he’d gone back to the charred house to look for clues about the shooter.
After Zeke left, I turned my attention back to Serena. Her body was still, her breathing steady. She had no idea what was coming next, or that her entire world was about to change. I wasn’t sure how she would handle the news when she woke up. I only hoped that she would trust me enough to manage things until she got better.
I reached for her hand again. It seemed so small in mine, delicate but not fragile—just like her. Serena Martinelli had more fire in her than most men I knew.
But even the strongest needed protecting sometimes.
“I’m bringing you home, princess,” I said quietly. “And no one is going to hurt you again.”
To be continued…