Chapter 30 Savannah
SAVANNAH
The machines beep in a steady rhythm, and I can’t stop listening to each and every one.
Beep. He's alive. Beep. He's breathing. Beep. He's still here.
Romeo has been unconscious for eight hours.
The surgery took nearly five hours—they had to repair the damage from the stab wound, stop the internal bleeding, and close the wounds Thad's knife left behind.
Dr. Robinson, the trauma surgeon, told me he was lucky.
Two inches to the left, and he would have bled out before they could have performed surgery.
Two inches.
I sit in the chair beside his bed, holding his hand, and I can't stop thinking about how close I came to losing him. About how I killed a man to protect our unborn child, and how Romeo nearly died protecting me.
My hands are clean now—someone made me wash them, made me change out of the blood-soaked hospital gown—but I can still feel the weight of the knife. The resistance when it entered Thad's chest. The wet sound he made when I pulled it out.
I killed him.
The thought should horrify me, make me sick. It should make me question everything about who I am and what I've become. But all I feel is relief.
Thad is dead. He can’t hurt me or our baby, or Romeo, who is alive and breathing and here.
"Miss Beauregard?"
I look up to see Dr. Robinson standing in the doorway. She's still in her scrubs, and there are dark circles under her eyes.
"How is he?" I ask, even though I can see the monitors, and I've been watching his chest rise and fall for hours. I’m so afraid that something is happening underneath the surface, something that no one will catch until it’s too late.
"He's stable." She comes closer, checking the IVs. "The surgery went well. We were able to repair all the damage. He's going to need time to heal, but he should make a full recovery."
The relief that floods through me is so intense it makes me dizzy. I wonder how many times I’ll need to hear it before I feel safe again. "He's going to be okay?"
"Yes." She smiles. "He's going to be okay. He's strong. And he has a lot to live for."
I close my eyes and let the tears come. "Thank you," I manage. "Thank you so much."
"You should get some rest," Dr. Robinson says gently. "He's going to sleep for a while longer. The anesthesia—"
"I'm not leaving him."
She doesn't argue. Just nods and leaves me alone with Romeo and the machines, and the steady rhythm of his breathing.
—
I must doze off at some point because I wake to the sound of footsteps in the hallway. They’re heavy and purposeful, and I sit up straighter, my hand tightening around Romeo's.
Dante Ciresa walks in.
There are lines around his eyes, and gray at his temples. He's wearing an expensive suit, perfectly tailored, and his expression is carefully neutral as he looks at his son.
"Mr. Ciresa." I don't let go of Romeo's hand.
"Miss Beauregard." His eyes shift to me. "I heard what happened."
"From Giulia?"
"From several sources." He moves closer to the bed, looking down at Romeo. "How is he?"
"He's going to be okay. The surgery went well."
Dante nods slowly, and I see something flicker in his expression. Relief, maybe. Or fear that he almost lost his son.
"And you?" he asks. "You're unharmed?"
"I'm fine."
"I understand you killed Thaddeus Whitmore."
The words hang in the air between us, and I feel my heart start to race. This is it. This is where he tells me I'm a liability. That I've brought too much danger to his family.
"I did." I lift my chin. "He was going to hurt our baby. He was going to kill Romeo. I stopped him."
"Good." The word surprises me. "He deserved worse."
I stare at him, shocked. "What?"
"Whitmore was a threat. To you, to my son, to my grandchild." Dante's voice is matter-of-fact. "You eliminated that threat. That shows strength and intelligence. Those are qualities this family values."
"I—I don't understand."
"Romeo is dangerous," Dante continues. "He's obsessive.
He's controlling. He has a personality disorder that makes it difficult for him to connect with people in normal ways.
" He pauses. "But he loves you. And that love has made him better. Stronger. I thought otherwise, but now I see that you are better for him than I believed. And it seems he’s good for you, as well. "
"Mr. Ciresa—"
"Dante." His voice is firm. "If you're going to be part of this family, you should call me Dante."
The words hit me like a physical blow. "Part of the family?"
"That's why I'm here." He leans back in the chair. "To have a conversation with my son. When he wakes up."
"About what?" I tense.
"About his future and his choices." Dante's eyes meet mine. "About whether he's ready to commit to those choices fully."
Before I can respond, Romeo makes a sound. We both turn to look at him. His eyes are fluttering open, and he's trying to focus.
"Savannah?" His voice is rough, barely audible.
"I'm here." I lean closer, squeezing his hand. "I'm right here."
His eyes find mine, and I see relief flood his expression. Then he notices his father.
"Papa." The word comes out wary, tinged with his accent. "What are you doing here?"
"I came to see my son." Dante's voice is calm. "To make sure he survived his latest act of recklessness."
"I'm fine." Romeo tries to sit up and winces. "Or I will be."
"You nearly died."
"But I didn't." Romeo's hand tightens around mine. "Savannah saved me."
"I know." Dante looks at me. "She also killed Whitmore. Quite efficiently, from what I understand."
Romeo's eyes widen slightly. "You know about that?"
"I know everything, Romeo. I always do." Dante leans forward. "Which brings me to why I'm here. We need to have a conversation. About your future. About your priorities."
"My priorities are clear." Romeo's voice is stronger now, more like himself. "Savannah and our baby. They come first. Always."
"Even over the family?"
"Yes." The word hangs in the air, absolute and final. I look between the two of them, knowing better than to interrupt, but shocked at the turn this conversation is taking.
Dante is quiet for a long moment. "You're willing to walk away? From everything I've built? Everything I've given you?"
"If that's what it takes." Romeo doesn't hesitate. "If you can't accept Savannah, if you can't accept our child, then yes. I'll walk away."
"Romeo—" I start, but he squeezes my hand.
"I mean it, Papa." His eyes are locked on his father's. "I'm not going to let our child grow up in a family that doesn't want their mother. So you have a choice."
"Do I?" There's something almost amused in Dante's voice.
"Accept Savannah as your future daughter-in-law. Accept our baby as your grandchild. Be part of our lives." Romeo's voice is steady, certain. "Or lose your heir and never know your grandchild. Those are your options."
The silence that follows is suffocating. I stare at Romeo, my heart pounding, because I didn't know he was planning this. I didn't know he was prepared to give up everything for us.
Dante stands up slowly, and I brace myself for his response. For him to tell Romeo he's making a mistake. That he's throwing away his legacy for a woman who isn't worth it. But instead, he says: "You really love her."
Romeo nods. "More than anything."
"And you're prepared to walk away from everything for her?"
"Yes."
Dante nods slowly, and something in his expression shifts. "Good."
Romeo blinks. "What?"
"I said good." Dante's voice is firm. "That's the answer I was hoping for."
"I don't understand—"
"Romeo." Dante shakes his head. "Did you really think I would let you throw away your life for someone who wasn't worthy of it? Did you think I wouldn't want to know she was strong enough to be part of this family?"
He turns to look at me. “You killed a man to protect your child. You stood by my son when it would have been easier to walk away. You've shown more strength than most of the men in my organization." He pauses. "You're not a liability, Savannah. You're exactly what Romeo needs."
The words settle over me, and I don't know what to say.
"Which brings me to this." Dante reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small velvet box. "Romeo, there's something you need to do."
Romeo looks confused. "What?"
"You need to ask her properly." Dante's voice is firm. "You need to do this right."
And suddenly I understand what's happening.
Romeo's eyes widen, and he looks at me, then back at his father. "I—I was going to—"
"When?" Dante's voice is almost amused. "After you recovered? After you dealt with Edgar Beauregard? After you finished building your case?"
"I—" Romeo stops, and I can see the realization dawning on his face. He turns to me, and there's something almost sheepish in his expression. "I never actually asked you, did I?"
"No," I say quietly. "You didn't."
"I just—I assumed—" He's struggling now, and it's so unlike him that I almost want to laugh. "After everything that happened, after the baby, I thought—"
"You thought I'd just go along with it?" I raise an eyebrow. "That I'd marry you without you actually asking?"
"I—yes?" He winces. "That sounds terrible when you say it like that."
"It is terrible." But I'm smiling now, because this is so exactly Romeo. Obsessive and so used to getting what he wants that he forgot to actually ask for it.
"Savannah." He takes my hand in both of his, and I can see him trying to sit up straighter despite the pain. "I'm sorry. I should have asked. I should have—"
"Yes," I interrupt. "You should have."
"So let me ask now." His voice is steadier than before. "Savannah Beauregard, will you marry me? Will you let me spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of you?"
I look at him—this dangerous, obsessive, complicated man who nearly died protecting me. Who's finally asking instead of demanding.
"Yes." The word comes out as a whisper. "Yes, I'll marry you."
The smile that breaks across his face is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.