chiara
I swerved into my parking spot and hopped out of the car, examining the damage. My baby Benz was absolutely ruined. Holes in the car, the glass blown out, and blood soaking into the front seat.
Tommy couldn’t see this. I had to keep it away from him at all costs.
After eyeing one of my neighbor’s many covered cars, I pulled the cover off of it and threw it over my car. I would buy him a new one. He had all the money in the world. I doubted that he would mind anyway.
Alessandro clutched his stomach and leaned against the car. We walked into the elevators, and I hit the button for my floor. He leaned against the side of the elevator and closed his eyes, trying to take even breaths.
“Would you like to tell me why the Sicilian Mafia is after you? I thought you were one of them.”
He clenched his jaw. “I told you to stay out of my business.”
I placed my hand on my hip and turned away. “Fine.”
When the elevator doors opened, I pulled Alessandro down the hallway to my apartment. The doctor stood in the hall, waiting for me. He widened his eyes, gazing down at Alessandro’s wound.
It was bleeding much more profusely now, drenching his shirt and hand.
We rushed into the apartment. I told Alessandro to sit on one of the kitchen stools, thinking that it would ruin the least amount of furniture.
The doctor set his tools on the table.
“Take off your shirt,” I said.
Alessandro gazed up at me. “Why don’t you remove it? I kind of have my hands full, reginetta.”
I rolled my eyes and undid the buttons on his shirt, peeling it off of him. My eyes flickered to his sculpted chest.
His eyes darkened. “You can check me out all you want when I’m not bleeding to death.”
The doctor pulled out some sort of tweezers and told Alessandro to relax. Before he could remove anything, I placed a hand on his shoulder.
Alessandro shook his head up at me. “What are you waiting for?”
“You’re going to give me another chance.”
“No, I’m not.”
I stepped closer to him, jaw clenched. “It wasn’t a request. It was an order.”
“And who are you to order me around?”
“The woman who could either save your ass right now or let you bleed out so damn slowly that you’d wish I’d put a bullet straight through your head.”
He tensed as I pushed my thumb against his wound. “One fucking chance.”
I stepped back, wiped my thumb onto my dress, and watched the doctor thrust his tweezers into Alessandro. His chest muscles tightened. I looked down at them, noticing a bullet scar on his left shoulder and another near his ribs.
He gazed at me, no hint of a smile. “It doesn’t get easier, reginetta. Each bullet hurts like a puttana, in case you were wondering.”
I mustered up a fake smile. “I wasn’t.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Now, tell me why the Sicilian Mafia is after you.”
The doctor removed the bullet, pulling it out with his tweezers. He gave me a towel and told me to hold it over his wound. I pressed the towel—a little too hard—against his stomach. He winced. Good.
“Was, reginetta. I was one of them.” He sat back, smirking. “Wanted to take a break and relax in America.”
“Your life won’t get any easier here.”
“Because you keep getting in the fucking way.”
I pressed into his wound, making him wince again. “What’re you running from?”
“I don’t run.”
“So, what, you’re a snitch? Is that how you got out of jail earlier than you should’ve?”
He shook his head and clenched his jaw. “I’m not telling you any more.”
I pulled the gun out of my purse. I had him where I needed him. Holding the gun up to his temple, I smirked. “You will tell me everything I need to know.”