Marcello #2
Before I can press him for details, the sliding-glass doors open, and Zia Rosa, my housekeeper, comes running out.
She's another person who uprooted her life to come with me—twice, actually.
She was my mother's housekeeper and best friend.
When she heard what my father did, she followed me to Sicily, investing what little money she had in my racketeering business.
I've paid her back since, with interest, and bought her a little house out in the country, but she refuses to retire.
Maybe one day, when you have a wife to take care of you, eh, she keeps telling me.
Then I'll never marry, I'll miss your ravioli too much, I tease back whenever our conversation lands on one of these topics.
Only once did she threaten to leave me—the day Mina announced our engagement. She only agreed to stay when I told her that I would always choose her over Mina. She'd long given up hope that I would settle down, so she grudgingly agreed to put up with Mina just to finally see me married.
Grinning, I limp over to her. She smacks me with her palm. "Damn you, Marcello Orsi."
Amused, Luciano takes a step back. Kurt and Giacomo look uncertainly at each other.
"What did I do?" I ask, rubbing my burning face. It's been a long time since someone backhanded me. And they usually don't live to tell the tale.
"Going out and getting yourself shot, that's what you did. Scaring an old woman half to death," she tsks. She raises her hands, and I flinch back, expecting another slap.
"Hey, I just had skull surgery," I remind her.
"I was so worried, caro." She throws her two-hundred-pound, four-foot-eight-inch frame at me and nearly topples my precarious balance on the crutches. Her soft body presses into mine. Her smell of garlic, cinnamon, and vanilla is so contradictory and so familiar, an ache spreads through my chest.
"I'm sorry?" Awkwardly, I pull her into me around my crutches.
"You better be." A kitchen towel hits me over the head. "And you," her wrath turns on Luciano, causing a grin to spread over my face.
"Idiota!" The towel hits Luciano rapidly, and he raises his arms. "Sending an old lady a text, bah." She spits on the ground in front of his feet.
"You texted her that I was shot?" I ask, shooting an eyebrow up at him.
"I was kind of busy, okay? Ouch, Zia Rosa, stop, ouch." Luciano curses, holding his arms up to protect himself. A chuckle turns my attention to Kurt. One icy glare, and his chuckle dies.
"You haven't been home in weeks." Zia Rosa's usually olive skin turns red with anger.
"I'm sorry, Zia Rosa." Luciano looks it, too, amusing me even more.
"The only reason I'm forgiving you is because the dragon lady is finally leaving," Zia Rosa huffs, waving us inside. She clings to my arm, making walking harder, but I wouldn't have it any other way.
"Mina is still here?" I ask, and dread fills me. My hand reaches for my neck to massage it as my head begins to pound harder.
"How are you, amore mio?" She squeezes my bandaged bicep. I suppress a whimper, not wanting to make her feel bad.
"Better now that I'm home. The food was terrible," I try to change the topic to her favorite.
"If that idiota had come home," she gives Luciano the evil eye and another slap with the feared dishtowel, "I would have sent good food to the hospital. Food to make you strong. Look at how much weight you lost."
She finally lets go of my arm, waving hers through the air to underline her words, and points out my frame. She's right; the clothes one of the bodyguards brought are a little too big on me now. I have lost a few pounds.
"Ah, but your ravioli will make it all better," I say, bending to kiss her flour-spotted face.
"Ah, amore mio, I can't be mad at you. I'm so glad you're—"
The sound of grunting interrupts her, and our eyes move to Mina as she sashays out of my bedroom. I narrow my eyes at her entourage of three men carrying bags. I've never allowed Mina to sleep over or move in with me. There is no way she has three bags full of shit in my penthouse.
"Oh, Marcello," she cries, rushing toward me, but Luciano stops her with one hand before she can collide with me. "I'm sorry, Marcello. Please don't make me go."
The private elevator door opens, and Alejandro chooses this moment to appear with Violet in tow. She walks in like a storm I didn't see coming. That soft voice, that steady gaze—it cuts through everything: even the pain and the fury. One look from her makes me forget everything.
"Oh my fucking God!" Mina spits. "Is she why I'm moving out?" She points a manicured finger at Violet. "Hah, I should have known, you little whore." She takes two steps forward, but I grab her arm.
"Mina," I hiss warningly.
Violet stares from Mina to me, her eyes wide. The tip of a very sexy pink tongue flicks over her lips as she tries to keep her composure.
"I'm sorry. I can come back…"
"I'm sure you can," Mina pushes her fists into her hips.
"Mina was just leaving," I say, my voice ice-cold, leaving no room for argument.
Huffing, Mina waves at the three men.
"Is that your watch?" Luciano points at one of the men's wrists.
"Probably," I sigh. "The bags are probably full of my stuff."
"You want me to—"
I shake my head. "Let her think she won," I say. "Let her get comfortable. I don't forget theft. And I don't forgive betrayal. Not really." Then I turn to Violet, all smiles. "I'm sorry for the unpleasant welcome."
Violet blinks a few times, then her professional composure wins out. "No problem. But this can't be easy on you. You should probably lie down."
"I'm good," I widen my smile.
Her face turns hard, and her eyes narrow.
"Wow, that expression could send you straight to hell," Luciano whispers.
"I wasn't asking, Mr. Orsi," she deadpans.
"Oh, a girl after my own heart. She's right, you know," Zia Rosa enters the conversation. "Off, off to bed you go. I'll send some food in a minute." For good measure, she waves her kitchen towel at me.
"Zia Rosa, I have work—"
"That can wait." Violet puts her hand on my arm, gently pushing me.
"You don't even know where my bedroom is," I object.
"Luciano?" She looks at him.
He looks at me.
"Come, I show you. I'm Rosa, the housekeeper," Zia Rosa introduces herself, taking the lead.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Violet, the nurse."
Zia Rosa waddles down the hallway and shows Violet where my bedroom is.
"Did they change your bandages before you left the hospital?" Violet wants to know. "Did they give you your medication?"
"No and no," I say with a heavy sigh, sitting down on the bed. Maybe the women are right, and I need some rest.
"Did you get the things I requested?" Violet asks Luciano as he enters. He's pushing an industrial-looking cart in front of him.
"Right here."
Violet steps over, pulling out drawers and looking things over. "I'll need more bandages and sterile gauze."
"Noted," Luciano types in his phone.
"Alright, enough," I raise my voice. My head is splitting. Is it too much to ask for a moment of peace? "Out, everyone."
"You heard the man." Luciano instantly ushers Zia Rosa to the door; he's trying to herd Violet out, too, but she evades him.
"I'm staying, at least until Mr. Orsi takes his medicine and has fresh bandages."
"Call me Marcello," I offer in a low voice. I want to hear my name rolling off her lips again. Just hers. One of the fucking crutches slips from my fingers at the thought.
I'm about to grab it, but Violet is faster. "Let me," she says, diving down. When she comes up, her head hits my chin.
"Ouch." Her hand rises to the top of her head. "I'm sorry. Are you okay?" She looks at me.
"I'm fine," I assure her, even though I think I just added a lacerated tongue to my other injuries. Madre Dio, that woman has a hard head.
Something undefinable passes between us as we stare into each other's eyes. It feels as if time stands still. A stray strand of hair has loosened from her ponytail, and I'm unable to resist brushing it back behind her ear. I wince at the sight of her still swollen face.
"Does it hurt?"
"Probably a lot less than your various injuries," she retorts, her voice sounding deeper and hoarser than usual.
"I'm sorry that happened to you."
"It's not your fault, and it's not my first shiner," she smiles sweetly at me. That smile of hers is absolutely devastating. It wreaks havoc with my entire system.
"I like your smile," I say, noticing that my voice has deepened as well.
"Uhm, thank you." Hers falters, and she rises all the way, putting distance between us. Amused, I watch her fiddle with the crutch, finally putting it against the bed. "Let me get your pills and then I'll check on your wounds."
"I'm all yours," I reply, watching a slight blush creep up her face. I'm enjoying her discomfort way too much.
She walks backward towards the rolling shelf cart.
"Careful," I advise as she nearly bumps into it.
Obviously flustered, she opens and closes drawers until she finds what she's looking for, but then her eyes dart through the room again. "Uh, I need to get some water."
"The fridge should be stocked." I point at a small bar area in the corner of the room.
I like watching her walk over to it. She bends low, and my cock stirs at the sight of her pants tightening around her ass. She opens the fridge. "There's nothing there."
"Nothing?" I crease my brow, "How about the shelves?"
"They're also empty, and even if they weren't, I wouldn't give you your pills with alcohol," she chastises.
Damn Mina, she must have emptied the bar. I shake my head, glad to be rid of her.
"I'll just run to the kitchen," she announces. "Do you want anything else?"
I could think of a few things, but I don't think she would allow me to eat her pussy, so I shake my head. She leaves the door open, and I listen to mumbled voices before she returns with a bottle of water.
"All set." She rummages around the cart once again and retrieves a few pills, which she then holds out to me on her palm.
"What are those?"
"These two are your run-of-the-mill Tylenol, these four are Motrin, and this guy will help you sleep. This is a steroid to keep the swelling down, these are anticoagulants to make sure you don't develop a blood clot, and lastly, you have some Vitamins. D and C." She explains.
"I don't need this one." I put the sleeping pill to the side.
"It's very important for your body to get the rest it needs to heal."
"It's very important for my health to wake up if another would-be assassin shows up."
Her head rocks left and right as if she anticipates someone standing in a corner. "Isn't that what you have all those bodyguards for?"
"They're new." I grin, popping the rest of the pills back. "How long do I have to take this cocktail?"
"Probably only a couple of weeks. You should have another appointment where the doctors will make sure everything is healing properly. And don't forget your physical therapy appointments, they're also very important."
"Hmm," I grunt noncommittally. For now, I'm inclined to play her little game because I want her around, but I'd rather be done with the pills sooner than later.
I open my mouth to show her that I took them all, going as far as sticking my tongue out, moving it up and down, slowly and deliberately. Let her imagine what else it can do. Her little giggle is all the reward I need.
She gives it, shaking her head. "Ok, let me help you out of your shirt and pants."
"Careful, tesoro. You start peeling my clothes off, and I'll think you're ready to play with fire." I grin, wiggling my eyebrows suggestively.
"Mr. Orsi, are you flirting with me?"
"I thought I told you to call me Marcello."
"Marcello," she allows. The sound of my name from her mouth sends another wave of desire through me. "You haven't answered my question."
"You'll know if I flirt with you." I wink, and she blushes again.