With that said, I sat in silence with her for the rest of the night. Any amount of silence was better than talking about Ronan.
Chapter Six
RONAN
Present Day
NEW YORK CITY
Night bled into morning before I realized I hadn’t eaten or even sat down. My scrubs smelled faintly of antiseptic and adrenaline, and my hands still itched with the ghost of the last suture I tied.
By the time I found myself at my brother’s door, I wasn’t sure whether I came for comfort, distraction, or maybe proof someone who loved me was still awake in this city.
The door swung open before I could knock. Lucio stood there, hair sticking up wildly, eyes narrowing with sleepy concern.
“Fratello,9” he said softly, stepping aside. “Come in.”
“Twin telepathy?”
He laughed. “My penthouse is fully surveilled, Ronan.”
I didn’t answer right away. Sugar—his and his wife’s fluffy gray cat—trotted over, her fur brushing against my calves like she’d been expecting me to. The house smelled like woodsmoke and books, warm and safe, nothing like the sterile hum of the hospital.
Lucio pressed a glass of Glenfiddich into my hand without a word. The whiskey burned on the way down, and only then did I feel the tightness in my chest start to crack.
“I’m going to a fashion show,” I began as I sank into the sofa.
“A fashion show?” Lucio interrupted incredulously. “What in the world are you doing at a fashion show?”
“Nina’s ho—”
“Ronan,” he cut in sharply, his expression furrowing.
I nodded solemnly. “Yes?”
“Are you sure going to Italy is the sane thing to do?” he sighed heavily, resignation coloring his tone.
“I’ve spent almost three million dollars,” I said with a bitter laugh.
“When Nina’s involved,” Lucio remarked dryly, “you’d empty your bank account without a second thought.”
“True,” I admitted ruefully. “But maybe I need a change of scenery to get back into the groove of life.”
Lucio leaned back, studying me thoughtfully but clearly not buying into my bullshit. “And you think chasing after Nina halfway across the world is the answer?”
I shrugged, a flicker of uncertainty crossing my features. “Maybe not the answer, but it’s something. I need to see her, to talk to her.”
Understanding dawned in Lucio’s eyes as he nodded slowly. “I get it, Ronan. Just don’t lose yourself in this.”
Looking down at the empty glass in my hand, I took a deepbreath. “I won’t. I promise.”
“Do you ever think aboutMamma e Papà?”
I looked up, surprised by the sudden question. “Yeah, I do,” I replied, my expression softening. “I think about them all the time.”
Lucio nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “Remember whenPapàused to take us for lunch on his boat every Sunday? Those horrendous sandwiches we’d still eat just to avoid hurting his feelings?”
I laughed warmly, the sound filled with nostalgia. “Mom would always take backup tagliatelle, in case we needed to sneak some.”
