I found myself constantly unable to say no to my wife.
“Fine. But you”—I pointed at Fiorella—“will try to keep Brenno’s men from ending my life, and you”—I pressed a kiss to Sicily’s head—“are not coming.”
“Yes, I am. She’s my family!”
“Sicily,” I growled under my breath. “You are in ahospital. You suffered an incredibly traumatic wound by the men who live with her. You arenotcoming.”
The dim lighting of the corridor caught the sheen of recovering skin sliced across her throat. I could feel her determination as if it were my own, but I could also still feel her bleeding out in my arms, and that could never happen again.
Sicily remained silent, and it weighed heavily inside of me, but it was her slowly narrowing eyes that I could feel burning through me. Her disagreement was like a bomb waiting to go off, that any minute now, it would explode me into pieces.
I ran a hand down my face. “Sicily, angel, please stay here.”
“I can be helpful.” She folded her arms. “And besides, how do I know you won’t argue with them on the way there?”
The plan had been to remain silent. These women did not need me to argue with them because they knew their roles in all of this, Fiorella especially.
“Please.” Sicily planted her hands strategically on my chest. “Let me feel helpful.”
“Fine. Fine!” I shoved my fingers into my eye sockets, wondering what could have possibly made these women so troublesome. I turned to Adriano, sighing through my disapproval. “Will you get her discharged? The police are already aware—I told my men, so do not be concerned if the hospital attempts to call them.”
Adriano nodded and turned to leave, bringing Francesco with him.
I looked at my wife once more, looked at how triumphant her face appeared now that she washelping, and shook my head. “Let’s go.”
There was lessdrama in the car.
In fact, all three women fell asleep toppled into one another like dominoes while I was racing to get Bella and her baby to safety.
Philadelphia was silent as we drove through its streets. I found this to be both strange and alarming. It indicated that Brenno either did not know we were coming or that he was welcoming us. I clutched the gun at my waistband tighter as we approached a pair of tall, black metal gates that separated us from a long stretch of countryside.
The fact that the Feras, the volatile, violent Feras, lived in a countryside cottage surrounded by lakes and nature surprised me greatly, but when the gates opened automatically, and the calmness of the wind in the trees and the moon lighting the dewy grass surrounded me, I could understand why it appealed.
Siena would have enjoyed their home.
“Girls,” I said, reaching into the backseat to gently squeeze Sicily’s wrist. “Wake up.”
There was a loud groan that was absolutely Fiorella, a small huff that was my wife, and a long stretch that I hoped indicated that Bella was feeling better and nothing had happened to her. The women gave each other warm smiles as they woke, and I watched how they interacted closely as I pulled up to the front of the large cottage.
Perhaps Sicily could find it within herself to forgive her sister.
It made me wonder if I would ever forgive my brothers.
I opened my door to exit first. “Stay in the car, Sicily.”
Bella and Fiorella followed, leading the way to the strangely colored, rose-pink front door, and my nerves charged through my body like an electric wire as the sound of quick footsteps approached the other side.
The Feras’ choice of decoration was interesting, and it led me to believe that the women in this household were as important to them as the one in mine was to me.
The one in mine that had appeared by my side despite me telling her not to.
I startled when the door opened, not because there was anything negative there, but because Ezio looked as though he had been to hell and back. His hair was frazzled, his eyes wide, his expression explaining that something had occurred that he had not expected.
“Ezio?” I said, probing without the words.
“Can you help?” he asked, his eyes flickering between Sicily and Fiorella. He opened the door wider to reveal a soft home with mismatched shoes on the shoe rack, raincoats hung on hooks, and bags discarded by the front door.
It was ahome,one that I had not been able to give them.
