Chapter 57
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Home Sweet Home
Raf
I carry Chiara to the helicopter idling on the expansive dock and place her on the bed that’s set up and ready for her. I remove the jacket and cover her with the blankets instead. Her eyes flutter open, confusion and fear marring them.
“We’re on a helicopter, sweetheart. Dr. Middleton is going to check you over.”
“Go home,” she croaks.
“Yes, angel,” I say, stroking her cheek. “Then we’re going home.”
I step out of the way so Dr. Middleton can step in.
Seb and Marco hopped in this one with me while Avery and the other men remained behind to wait for the next helicopter. AJ and his men insisted they take care of the clean-up of the bloody and disastrous scene. They’ve got a doctor on the way to tend to the wounded Xander.
Dr. Middleton hooks Chiara up to an IV immediately to get some fluids into her, gently prodding her body to check if anything is broken.
“This bruising and swelling tells me she may have one or more cracked ribs,” he says as he lightly touches the area. Then he cleans her head wound and uses glue to close the gash before covering it with a clear medical adhesive.
Chiara groans in pain, and I squeeze her hand reassuringly.
“Before we administer any other pain relief, I just want to take some blood to make sure we know if there’s any drugs in her system. Are you okay to give me consent to do that?”
I nod.
“I’ll expedite the lab results as soon as we land.”
“Water,” Chiara groans out.
I grab some and put it to her lips, and once she’s had most of the bottle, she closes her eyes. Exhaustion takes her, and I close mine and exhale. It feels like my first full breath in months.
Our secret is out. Alessandro is dead. The case is in good hands with Sophia and my father who stepped in to cover me. I’m taking my wife home, battered and bruised, but thank God alive and in one piece. A strong hand lands on my shoulder. I look up to find Marco’s tired, grinning face.
“You get it now, brother.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“I do.” Life isn’t worth living without the one who puts the light in it.
“Well, I guess the eternal bachelor is officially the first one off the market,” pipes up Seb, before he returns to tapping away on his phone. “Luca is losing his mind about not knowing what’s going on. He’s threatening to charter a flight home.”
“Highly unnecessary,” I say.
“I know. I’m gonna video call him. I think he’s just having a hard time dealing with the fall-out of the shooting and the case against Arty.
” He looks up as he connects. “But he can’t miss his pre-season commitments.
He needs to focus on his career right now, needs the distraction to stop him from spiraling over Arabella disappearing on him—again. ”
We all exchange a worried look. My little brother feels too hard. Would probably do him some good to adopt some of my asshole tendencies. Although I fear they’re rendered pointless in the face of love anyway. Perhaps he was the first of us to learn that lesson.
Luca answers, and we all take turns talking to him briefly to show proof of life.
He was still insisting he come back, but we managed to convince him to use leave request for the wedding festivities.
Begrudgingly, he agreed and made me promise that Chiara would video call him when she was feeling up to it.
“See you in like six weeks for the wedding, bro,” says Marco, who has the last word.
“He looked rough,” observed Seb, who’s probably spent the most time with him over the last few months he’s been back.
“He’ll be okay,” says Marco. “Everything always has a way of working out.”
“Tell me again, when did you become a fucking beacon of light and love?” asks Seb.
“Therapy, bro.” Marco grins. “You should try it some time. Speaking of, make sure Chiara keeps going to her appointments. Especially after today. It’s going to bring up a whole lot of shit.”
I nod my acknowledgment.
“AJ is going to come and see her as soon as he can. He owes her an honest conversation. He’s kept your secret and today’s events off Gino’s radar for now.”
“How did he manage that? He’s literally akin to the Godfather. Don’t they know everything?” asks Seb.
Marco snickers. “He got the twins to take him to some tiny island that they want to put a resort and club on. It has no reception right now.”
“Genius. I wonder what they’re going to do with that?” says Seb.
“You can ask them yourself at the wedding,” Marco says, before raising his eyebrows at me and clapping me on the back. “It’s gonna be a big meet-the-family situation for us both.”
“Can’t wait,” I say.
Moments later, we’re landing on the helipad.
“Leave Chiara there for a moment. We need to quickly shower and change out of these clothes before we head out.”
As soon as the door lifts, we file out to an alcove with locker-room-style shower facilities. A package of vacuum-sealed clothes for each of us waits on the bench top.
“Strip everything here first and put it in the hazmat bin,” instructs Marco.
I just want to get back to my girl, so I work quickly to remove my shoes and all my clothes, dumping them in the bin as instructed.
“What the fuck is that on your dick?” Marco says. I look down at mine. Nothing new to report. Then I snap my head up to see Marco staring agape at Seb.
“A Jacob’s ladder,” Seb replies.
“Why the fuck would you let anyone stick anything in your dick?” Marco says, cupping his own package and wincing in pain at the thought.
“For me to know and you to find out…if you dare,” Seb says with a wink.
“You’ve all lost your fucking minds,” I say.
“Says the one who’s been secretly married for months and sporting fresh ink.”
He has a point, but I have no time to be drawn into a competition about who’s crazier or get myself dragged into another dare.
“On that note, I have to get my wife home, so hurry the hell up.”
Chiara stirs, moaning and groaning as she tries to move in my arms while I slowly carry her from the car to the house.
“Don’t move too much, sweetheart. You have broken ribs,” I tell her.
She opens her eyes and whispers, “I’m so glad to be home.”
“You have no idea how glad I am,” I admit, placing a soft kiss on her lips, murmuring, “You scared the fuck out of me.”
The front door flings open.
“Thank God you’re all okay,” gasps Sophia, eyes lined with tears as she stands to the side waiting for us all to file in before flinging herself into Marco’s arms. She unconvincingly berates him for putting himself in such danger when he’s still recovering, but any anger is quickly dismissed when Marco kisses her worries away.
I can hear other voices coming from the kitchen, but I keep walking through the house towards our bedroom.
I lay Chiara gently on the bed, and she groans in pain.
“I know it hurts; I’m sorry. I’ll go run the bath, and then I’ll come and get you.”
“Okay,” she responds.
I fill the bath with hot water and add all the smelly things Chiara has put in my cupboards.
Instead of jostling her, I just cut her bra and underwear off and gaze down at her perfect body marked with the aftermath of her ordeal.
There are the superficial wounds, bruising, swelling, and some cuts and scratches too.
But it’s the pain that’s not on display that I wish I could simply wash away.
“Raf, I have to tell you something,” she says hoarsely, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Alessandro did find me again at the studio a few months ago and I didn’t tell you. I’m so sorry.”
“Shh. Shh,” I say kissing her tenderly. “It—he—doesn’t matter now. Please just let me get you clean and warm so I can rest with you in bed. The doctor will be here soon.”
I lower her into the bath, and she chokes on a cry as her body enters the water.
“Fuck. I’m so sorry. I know it hurts,” I say as I lean her against the tub.
She squeezes my neck in response, and once she’s finally submerged, she lets go and exhales shakily, eyes squeezed shut.
I kneel by the tub and lather her in body wash, careful not to apply too much pressure.
Then I wash her hair as best I can, shampoo then conditioner, quickly finger-combing the latter through.
“Raf, everything okay, honey?” asks my mom from outside the door.
“Yep. All good.” I don’t mean for it to come out clipped, because I’m grateful that everyone is here for Chiara. But there’s a part of me that wants privacy to deal with this alone. Just me and my wife.
Chiara opens her eyes and stares up at me. “Raf, be kind to your mother,” she chides weakly.
“I’m sorry.” I press my forehead to hers. “I just want to be alone. To hold you and never let you go. To tell you that I…” She places her finger over my lips, gasping with the effort to lift her arm.
“Go,” she says hoarsely. “I want that too. It’s not ideal, but it might be good to bond with my mother-in-law.”
“Well as you would say, the cat’s well and truly out of the bag.”
She giggles softly. “You’re catching on, husband.”
I give her one more kiss on the lips then rise and open the door for my mom.
“Your father would really like to speak with you,” she says. “He’s out there with the rest of the family.”
Mom walks in and perches on the edge of the bath, taking Chiara’s hand in hers. I move out of sight but wait to hear what she says.
“Hi, honey. I could ask you how you’re feeling, but I think we both know it’s been a rough day,” she says sympathetically. “So instead, how about I say welcome to the family.”
“I like the sound of that very much,” says Chiara, her voice breaking.
I rub my stinging eyes and swallow thickly, walking out of the room and straight into my father.
“Son, how is she doing?” he asks, clapping me on the shoulder.
“Sore and tired, emotionally drained, but happy to be home.”
“And you?”
“About the same. It’s been a long day.” I tilt my head towards the door. “Let’s go to my den.”
He follows me down the hallway, and I wave at him to take a seat on the couch, smiling to myself at the memory of Chiara on the very same one.
“Scotch?” I ask.
He nods and I pour us both one.
“How did the rest of the trial go?” I ask, handing him a tumbler.
“As you know, the judge ruled the video evidence inadmissible. The jury is in recess, but I think we’ll have our verdict tomorrow. The DNA evidence was a strong sticking point. Sophia stepped up in your absence. She is a natural.”
“Good. That fucker deserves to rot in jail. What about Mia?”
“She was emotional but determined to see this through. You were correct to go with your gut, Raf. I may be the old guard, but I’m not always right.”
“Is that an apology?”
“Not going to let me off the hook, are you?”
“Learned from the best,” I state.
“I’m sorry for undermining and underestimating you.
You’re one hell of a lawyer, but not only that, you’ve also proven that you make one hell of a husband,” he says, raising his glass to me.
“I don’t want the details of what transpired today, but if I can give you any advice man to man, father to son, it’s this: When it comes to the woman you love, use whatever means necessary to protect and keep her safe. It’s the unwritten law.”
He clinks his glass with mine. In this moment, I feel like his equal.
Who knew it would take going against every rule in his book to be on the same page.