Chapter 14 #2
I’m already moving, not waiting to hear the rest of what she says.
Emmanuel is in the hallway outside Chloe’s room, sitting on the floor with his knees pulled to his chest, back against the wall, tears streaming down his face. When he sees me, he scrambles to his feet and breaks into a dead run, straight into my arms.
I drop to my knees, pulling him against me. “You’re okay? You’re not hurt, are you?”
He shakes his head — no — against my shoulder.
Raffaello appears in Chloe’s doorway, his expression grim. I lock my eyes on him, and he straightens, bracing for the anger that is about to be unleashed on him. I stand, keeping one hand on Emmanuel’s shoulder.
“What happened?” I demand.
“She slipped out while I was walking the perimeter. Left a note saying they’d gone to the park across the street. By the time we realized they were gone —”
“You let her leave this property unguarded.” My voice is deadly quiet. I push Emmanuel behind me and take a step toward him. “With my son.”
“Boss, I didn’t let her; she snuck out. I was doing my job, following every protocol —”
“Your job is to watch her, to protect them both. To make sure she doesn’t do exactly this.” I step closer, and Raffaello— six-foot-four of solid muscle— steps back. “Chloe could have been killed. My son could have been taken again. Because you weren’t paying attention.”
“Boss —”
“Get out. All of you. Out. Now. Before I lose my temper.”
The doctor who had been packing his bag in silence doesn’t need to be told twice. He practically runs for the door, muttering about antibiotics and rechecks as he passes by. Raffaello hesitates, opens his mouth to argue, then thinks better of it and follows suit. Omero is the only one left.
“Omero,” I turn to Emmanuel. “Take Emmanuel to his room. I’ll come check on him in a few minutes.”
“Yes, boss.” He nods then swoops the boy up in his arm as he passes by without another word. I don’t look at any of them; my eyes are locked on Chloe as I move closer to the bed.
She’s propped up on the pillows, her face pale against the linen. There’s a bandage wrapped around her midsection, visible beneath her torn shirt. Her eyes are half-closed, glassy with whatever pain medication and sedation the doctor had already given her.
But she’s here. Alive and breathing. The relief that crashes through me is so intense it nearly takes me to my knees. Flashes of my wife in the same bed years before, pale and dying, run through my head.
“Basili?” Her voice is soft, slurred. “You’re back.”
I sink into the chair beside the bed. “I’m here.”
“I thought you were in midtown at a meeting; how did you get back here so fast?”
“Omero called me.” The words come out rough with emotion I’d had no intention of showing. “I came as fast as I could. You could have been killed Chloe.”
Her eyes are heavy as she struggles to stay awake. “I’m fine. It’s just a scratch. The doctor said it looked worse than it is.”
“That’s more than a scratch,” I say, leaning forward to examine the bandage closer. “You lost enough blood to pass out, Chloe.”
“Okay, fine, it’s a big scratch.” She tries to smile, but it wobbles. “Emmanuel is safe; that’s all that matters.”
“You left the property without a guard. Without my permission —”
“I left a note.”
“A note. What were you thinking, Chloe? Honestly?”
“I didn’t think —”
“Exactly, you didn’t think. You just acted recklessly. You put both yourself and Emmanuel in danger.” I stand and begin pacing the room, needing to move as the fear and rage course through my body. “Do you have any idea what could have happened? What I would have —”
I stop, not trusting myself to say another word without becoming the cold, detached Don of the Italian Families. And I know that is the last thing Chloe needs from me right now.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice is quieter now. “I just wanted to give Emmanuel a normal afternoon. Away from the guards, the tension, and all of this. He’s been reminiscing about his time with his mother, and I thought that maybe it would help him.”
I move back to the bed, and this time I don’t stop at the chair. I sit on the edge of the mattress, carefully avoiding bumping into her or jostling her injury.
“Basili —”
I reach out slowly, giving her time to pull away, and rest my palm on her stomach just above the bandage.
“You scared the hell out of me,” I say quietly.
“I scared myself too,” she admits hesitantly. Her hand comes up to cover mine. “But I’m ok. We’re both ok.”
My thumb strokes across my skin, gentle and reverent. “And that’s the only reason I’m not angrier. You saved him. Again.”
She smiles at that. Her eyes started to drift closed, the medication pulling her toward sleep. “The alliance? You needed —”
“I needed to be here. Making sure you were alive, and Emmanuel was safe.” My other hand comes up to brush a few stray hairs from her face before cupping it to draw her gaze. I realize that those eyes have become all too familiar and comforting. “I made a choice tonight, Chloe.”
That makes her eyes open again, focusing on me with effort. “Basili —”
“I need you to understand that I chose you. When Omero called and told me you were hurt, I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
I walked out of what was possibly the most important meeting of my time as the Don of this family.
Left Delan Tao and his perfect daughter sitting at that table without explanation. ”
Her brows furrow, eyes wide now. “You did what?”
“I needed to be here.” A slight smile tugs at the corner of my mouth at her reaction, the anger beginning to subside. “With you and Emmanuel.”
A tear slides down her cheek. “You need that alliance, though.”
“I’ll find another way. There’s always another way.” My fingers stroke across her stomach gently. “But I can’t find another you. There is only one, Chloe.”
Her breath hitches, and I lean in and kiss her before she can say anything further. It’s gentle, careful, nothing like the desperate kisses in the kitchen or the gym. This is tender. Full of the fear and the relief that’s been tearing me apart since Omero’s call.
She kisses me back for a moment, her hand coming up to wrap around my neck before burrowing into my hair. Then she pulls away, her eyelids heavy. “I can’t — the medication — I’m sorry. I’m so tired.”
“Sleep.” I press a kiss to her forehead. “We’ll talk when you wake up. You need rest.”
“Promise you’ll be here?” Her words are slurring now, sleep pulling at her consciousness.
“I’m not going anywhere.”