Page 107 of Mafia Obsession

His response brings me hope beyond anything I’ve felt before.

I clear my throat to sound tougher. “It’s not that bad, but it’s a state-run facility. Their resources are limited, and treatment isn’t always consistent. For the last few years, they’ve just been maintaining her. She still has no memory of anything before the fall. From the research I’ve done, she should have had some kind of breakthrough.”

His jaw tightens, and I see the anger flicker in his eyes. I know enough about this man to know it’s not aimed at me, but rather at the injustice that someone I care about has been left in such a place to rot.

“The facility is clean. The staff tries. It’s just…not enough.” I wipe a tear from my cheek. “And no, I’m not just here for a visit. I’m here to arrange for her to be transferred. Arizona has the only private facilities I’ve found that I can actually afford.”

He studies me for another long beat, and then, without releasing one of my hands, he reaches for his phone with the other and makes a call.

His voice when he speaks is calm, controlled, and lethal. “Lakeshore Rehabilitation in Chicago, the patient is Jessica Parker, an alias. I’ll explain more about that later. Traumatic brain injury, memory loss, long-term placement.”

I listen as he instructs someone on the other end to obtain her full records. To find the best neurological specialistin New York,and to have a comprehensive report in his email by tomorrow.

Tomorrow.She can be accepted into a facilityin New York,possibly this week.

I sit there torn between gratitude and an uncomfortable feeling of wounded pride. This was supposed to be my rescue, my solution, my proof that I could fix something on my own. Instead, he swept in and tipped the scales.

Yet he doesn’t look triumphant. He looks focused.

After he ends the call, his hand comes up, warm and steady, cupping my cheek. “You look exhausted,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing beneath my eye. “Where are you staying?”

“A motel,” I admit, suddenly self-conscious.

His mouth tightens in angry displeasure at the thought that I’d be so uncomfortable on top of this.

“I booked a suite at the Fairmont,” he says. “Please stay with me.”

The plea without any pressure means I’m free to choose.

“Okay,” I whisper, because I really want to be close to him again.

He nods once, and the driver pulls away from the curb. We stop at the motel, where he insists on coming inside the room despite my protests.

“I don’t have any clothes with me,” I say, gathering a few things from the bathroom. “I planned to go shopping later today.”

“I packed clothes for you myself,” he replies, almost absently. “I saw you didn’t take anything.”

I halt my steps at his remark. He took the time to consider everything. And the man who does nearly nothing for himself went into my closet and packed for me.

That small act of tenderness crumbles the wall I built up more than any grand gesture could have. Before I second-guess myself, I step into his embrace, wrapping my arms around his waist and pressing my face into the warmth of his coat.

He holds me tight and then lifts my chin. When he kisses me, it’s not possessive or punishing but slow and deliberate.

We leave the sad motel room that he also paid for, and he steers me back to the limo. Inside, he kisses me all the way to his hotel. I realize that he once again, he left behind his responsibilities and sixteen-hour workdays at Zervas & Company, the Aurelian, and Club Wicked for me.

With gray-violet eyes boring into me, he says, “You don’t smell like you used to. Like roses. Like my cologne. Let’s change that.”

Chapter 42

Lourdes

The limo turns onto Michigan Avenue, and even through the darkened glass, I recognize the familiar skyscraper rising in the distance long before we reach it. The Fairmont Chicago has always been one of those places I associated with another world.

Rich people. Powerful people.

Impossibly distant from the life I knew growing up.

Even now, seeing it loom closer through the windshield sends a strange tightening through my chest. It’s about to be my world. And there’s little I can do to stop it.