Chapter 17 #2
An ambulance. The logical answer. But it would take too long. They’d ask questions. How many floors? What’s the security code?
My brothers…
My finger hovered over Enzo’s name. He’d be here in ten minutes, breaking every traffic law. But what would he do when he got here? He’d panic. He’d scream. He wouldn’t be able to… fix it. Matteo would be cooler-headed, but still… they were my brothers.
My thumb moved, of its own accord, to a name I didn’t even know I’d saved.
Marco…
Why? He was the reason for all this. His abandonment, his press conference… everything led Silvio to this office.
But he’s the father…
The thought wasn’t logical.
He was the only other person in the world to whom this baby mattered. He was the only one who, I knew, would burn the world to the ground to get to me. I didn’t need pity; I needed strength, and Marco—as much as I hated him—was the most destructive force I knew.
My thumb pressed the call button.
The phone rang in my ear, a mocking electronic sound in my empty office. One ring… Two…
He’s not going to answer. He’s…
“Bianca?”
His voice wasn’t calm; there was a certain strangeness to it, as if he could guess what had happened to me—or perhaps they were just delusional thoughts as the pain hit me with increasing intensity.
I tried to speak. What came out was a wet sob, a sound of drowning.
“Marco…” I gasped. “Help…”
“Where are you?” Panic became evident in his voice. I’d always strived to be a woman of steel, resilient against anything, and Marco knew I’d only ask for help in a truly extreme situation. At that moment, nothing seemed more extreme or desperate. “Bianca, talk to me!”
“Office…” Another wave of pain cut me off. I screamed, arching my back on the floor. “He… Silvio. He pushed me. I’m… God, Marco, I’m bleeding!”
What I heard on the other end wasn’t a word. It was a roar. The sound of something heavy shattering… glass, maybe furniture. It was as if Marco were a wolf breaking out of his cage.
“I’ll be there in five minutes. Hang in there, Bianca. Don’t hang up. Stay with me!”
“I’m cold…” I whispered, feeling the panic give way to a strange numbness. The marble was stealing all my warmth. “Marco…”
“I know, my love. I know. I’m on my way. Just keep your eyes open. Scream with me, Bianca! Come on!”
I couldn’t do it; I was too tired.
“Bianca!”
I dropped the phone. The world was spinning. The lights of Milan outside looked like shooting stars.
I’m going to die here.
The thought was terrifying. I’d always believed I would give my life for that company, but I’d never imagined there would come a time when it felt so literal. Maybe Ferraro Uomo wasn’t everything I’d always thought it was.
The sound of the private elevator echoed through the room, and my heart stopped.
He was back…
The terror I felt gnawed at my bones and worsened the tremors. Silvio… He’d come back to finish the job.
I tried to crawl away, to hide under the table, but I couldn’t move.
The brushed steel doors opened.
It wasn’t Silvio… It was Marco.
He didn’t just look like a man; it was as if he had transformed into a force of nature.
His hair was wild, and his green eyes were filled with a fury so violent it seemed almost inhuman.
He wasn’t wearing a jacket, and his white shirt was…
stained with blood. There was a cut on his hand, but Marco didn’t seem to notice.
He stopped in the doorway and took in the scene.
Me, on the floor, surrounded by a red pool and the trail I’d left behind.
The fury on his face vanished, replaced by a horror so absolute that it robbed me of the last bit of breath I had left.
“Dio… mio…”
In two seconds, Marco was by my side. He didn’t run; he threw himself forward, falling to his knees in my blood.
His scent hit me: whiskey, expensive cologne, and pure masculine panic.
“What… what did he do?” Marco choked out, holding his large, strong hands above me as they shook uncontrollably, too terrified to touch me.
“You’re… bleeding…” I whispered, looking at his hand.
“Fuck my hand!” he growled. He snatched the jacket hanging on my chair and pressed it against me, trying to staunch the blood… everywhere. Trying to stop the unstoppable. “Where’s the ambulance? I called…”
“Marco…” I grabbed the lapel of his shirt, staining the white fabric with my red fingerprints. “I’ll go…”
Hot tears streamed from his eyes, striking my face, mixing with my cold sweat.
“Shut up, Bianca!” he growled, between sobs. “Shut up and don’t die. You’re not allowed to. Do you hear me? I forbid you!”
He leaned in, and his mouth found mine.
It wasn’t a kiss; it was desperation… an act of sheer will, salty with his tears and metallic with my blood. It was his mouth pressed against mine—breathing his panic into me, trying to force me to stay, trying to anchor me to this world with nothing but his grief and pain.
“Don’t leave me,” he murmured against my lips. “Don’t you dare leave me alone.”
The sound of sirens began, a distant wail coming from the streets below.
He lifted me into his arms in a delicate, gentle motion, but I screamed. The pain was making me more and more intoxicated.
Marco cradled me against his chest. He was covered in my blood, but he held me as if I were made of glass.
Marco walked toward the elevator, carrying me in his arms.
“You’re going to be okay,” he kept saying, over and over, like a mantra. To me, or to himself—I didn’t know. “You’re going to be okay. The baby’s going to be okay…”
I rested my head on his shoulder. His scent calmed me, letting exhaustion take over little by little. Darkness was closing in, pulling me down, into the cold…
“Marco…” I whispered, with my last breath.
“I’m here.”
“Save the baby…” I gasped, and the darkness finally took me.