Relief washes through every inch of my body.
He’s here. He’s alive.
“So, he’s okay?”
“A little pissed off, but otherwise fine.”
I give Lorenzo a gentle push and try to stand on my own. It takes a moment, but I manage.
“And he’s upstairs right now?”
“Should be.”
“Then that’s where I’m going.”
Lorenzo hesitates. “Ma’am. I really do think you should?—“
“Where is he, Lorenzo?”
He sighs and looks at the door, then back at me, then down at my legs, which are still trembling.
“Are you sure you’re?—”
“I’m fine. Please, Lorenzo.”
“Okay. Okay. Top floor. Bathroom. There’s a—there’s a bedroom you go through first. He’s in there.”
“Take me.”
“Maybe close your eyes when we get to it. What he’s doing up there—“ He stops. He picks a different sentence. “It’s not gonna be pretty.”
“I don’t care.”
“You will. Trust me. Twenty years of these kinds of scenes, you start to know what?—“
“I don’tcare, Lorenzo. I need to see him.”
He takes one last look down at my legs. They’re trembling a little less now.
“Alright.”
He glances at the guard on the floor.
“You. Stay on your face till the count of a thousand. Don’t come up. Don’t get curious. The lady spared you. I don’t have to.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good answer.”
Lorenzo offers his arm.
I take it.
“After you, milady.”
39
RAFFAELE
