Fiore,Bella, and I had spent an hour finalizing what we needed to do to end this feud between the Luccas and Feras. Elena and Matteo had helped, and Matteo had even offered to support in thebloodieraspects of it all.
Everything was in place.
Everything except my body.
It felt like someone else’s, like I was pretending to be whole inside of a skin that wasn’t.
The bandages around my throat itched as I swallowed, and I wanted to rip them from me, but the white, sickly, thick material made me question what they were hiding.
“You okay?” Bella asked from the armchair next to the bed, squeezing my hand.
I smiled in response. “I just want these off.”
Fiorella stopped her pacing from across the room. “They’ve been on for a while. Just take them off for a bit.”
I swallowed.
“Cily?”
“What if it looks really bad?” I blurted. “What if I look really…messed up?”
Just as my words tapered off, the door pushed open. My heart stitched itself back together again only to rip apart at the sight of Milan’s face. He looked clean and healthy, unscathed in every way, but it was his eyes that looked hurt.
Hollow.
He was exhausted.
“Nothing about you could bemessed up, Sicily.” He stepped into the room and immediately halted at who he spotted with me. He regarded Bella and Fiorella with a sternness that hadn’t been there before, at least for Bella. I knew what he was thinking before he said it, and it was exactly why we had to go through with this plan.
“It’s not their fault, Milan,” I said before he could say anything, but he wasn’t listening.
“Get out.” His nostrils flaring as he seethed the words.
I closed my eyes. “Milan?—”
“Get the fuck away from her!”
Bella stood instantly, reaching for Fiore and tugging her out of the room. They dashed past Adriano and Francesco, who were standing in the open doorway with expressions that matched my shock.
Milan was breaking at the seams.
“Shut the door,” he barked, his voice hoarse as he panted.
A beat of silence passed between us before the door clicked closed.
“That was unkind,” I said softly.
He stepped forward, his shoes clicking against the laminate floor. “Her husband slitting your throat wasunkind.”
I tapped the edge of the bed, shuffling over, but he didn’t sit down. He stood there in his tight shirt and smart pants like this was business where it was safe and unemotional.
“Milan, please.”
“Why are they here? Why isCesare’swife here?”
“It’s not her fault!” I said with an exasperated sigh. “Is it my fault you kidnapped her and she almost miscarried?”
He looked to the ceiling, clenching his eyes closed as he said firmly, “No.”
