CHAPTER TEN #2
"If it truly was an ambush," Cassia pressed, reaching for the needle and black thread from the suture kit, "then what kind of mob boss are you? You cannot anticipate or properly prepare for a threat on a public street? I thought you people were supposed to be organized."
Behind Dante, several of his heavily armed soldiers physically recoiled. To insult the Don's intelligence and his organization to his face was a death sentence. Marco opened his mouth to shout a warning, but a single look from Zoran silenced him instantly.
Zoran, sitting on the bumper while pressing a bandage to his own leg, was thoroughly entertained by the exchange. He leaned forward, catching Cassia’s eye.
"You didn't show up to the gala, Doctor," Zoran chimed in, a teasing grin on his scarred face. "We waited all night. Though, I must admit, Dante and I more or less expected that outcome."
Cassia threaded the needle with practiced efficiency. She didn't pause, sliding the curved steel expertly through the edges of Dante’s torn skin.
"Oh," Cassia replied, her tone so dry and indifferent it could have turned the Sahara to dust. "Was that a very nice event? Did you have fun?"
The sheer unapologetic sarcasm in her voice was unmistakable.
Her expression clearly communicated her true feelings on the matter: So, what if it was a nice event?
Why should that matter to me? Why should I have come at all?
You people keep intruding into my life uninvited, bleeding all over my neighborhood, and I am somehow supposed to just adjust my schedule and accommodate your parties?
Zoran threw his head back and laughed aloud, barely able to contain his mirth. He fought to hold it back every time Cassia shot him a dark, warning glare, but her refusal to cater to their egos was endlessly, delightfully amusing.
Dante watched her tie off a knot in the suture, entranced.
"You really do need to come and meet my mother eventually, Doctor," Dante pointed out, his pale green eyes dancing with humor.
"I am about to go home injured again. My mother is going to demand an explanation.
I will have to tell her that this is the second time the exact same doctor has saved my life.
Naturally, she is going to want to meet the woman responsible. "
Cassia snipped the thread, tossing the scissors onto the medical tray. She finally looked up, meeting his gaze directly.
"Why?" Cassia asked flatly.
"Because you saved my life. Again," Dante reasoned, his voice softening, the velvet cadence of his charm slipping through.
"Your mother already knows you are a moron, doesn't she?
" Cassia pointed out, picking up a roll of white gauze and beginning to wrap his forearm with tight, economical movements.
"And frankly, if you keep getting into scuffles in alleys like this, some other doctor is eventually going to save you too. Is your mother going to want to meet every single one of them as well? It seems it’s going to become a fact of your life at this point. "
Dante stared at her, the laughter bubbling in his chest. She was magnificent. She was immune to him, unimpressed by his wealth, his power, and his danger.
A reckless, foreign impulse surged through him.
As Cassia leaned in close to secure the tape on his bandage, Dante caught the faint scent of her—sterile soap, dark coffee, and something uniquely, fiercely her own.
A sudden, almost disorienting desire gripped him.
He wanted nothing more than to reach out with his uninjured hand, grip her by the waist, pull her flush against his chest, and take her with him right then and there.
He wanted to pull her into the back of the SUV and drive her far away from the hospitals and the grim reality of her exhaustion.
It was a feeling unlike anything he had experienced in eight years. It was a brilliant spark of life.
But as the urge spiked in his blood, he forced himself to remain perfectly still. He refused to push her. He refused to overstep and become just another monster in her eyes.
Cassia stepped back, stripping off the bloody latex gloves.
"You're all set," Cassia declared, her voice returning to its brisk, professional baseline. "Keep it dry for forty-eight hours. Have your own physician remove the stitches in ten days. And tell your men to learn how to secure a perimeter."
She turned away, bending down to pick up her canvas tote bag from where she had dropped it against the wall.
Dante didn't want to let her walk away. The thought of her disappearing back into the labyrinth of Rome caused a physical ache in his chest. But he also knew that if he chased her now, he would lose the fragile, bizarre dynamic they were building.
"Thank you, Doctor," Dante said, his voice dropping into a sincere register that easily carried over the hum of the idling SUVs. "Stay safe."
Cassia didn't look back. She raised a hand in a brief, dismissive wave and continued walking down the cobblestone street, her figure slowly disappearing into the shadows of the evening.
The moment she rounded the corner and was out of sight, both Dante and Zoran broke into genuine, unrestrained laughter.
It was a rich, full sound that echoed strangely against the brick walls of the alleyway. Around them, the dozen armed enforcers stood in complete, stunned silence. They looked from their laughing Don to the empty street, their minds blown.
They had just witnessed a civilian—a doctor, no less—execute a flawless tactical takedown, insult the Don to his face, call him a moron, and then casually walk away while their boss watched her with adoration.
It was strange. It was unbelievable. A woman who was simultaneously a healer, a warrior, and a fighter all in one extraordinary package.
Dante slid off the trunk of the SUV, adjusting the cuff of his shirt over the pristine white bandage. He looked at Zoran, the laughter slowly fading from his face, replaced by a determined fire in his pale green eyes.
"She is magnificent, Zoran," Dante murmured quietly, his eyes fixed on the empty street where Cassia had vanished.
"She is," Zoran agreed, pulling himself up from the bumper with a slight wince. "And she is going to make you work for it, Dante."
Dante’s smile returned, dangerous and alive. "I have no intention of letting her go."