I don’t know who that is, but just the last name of his new employer fills me with rage. Whatever they made Nero do yesterday resulted in him coming home in this state.
I pick up.
“You’re late,” a voice rasps on the other end of the line. “I told you we’re not taking the day off. There’s too much work to do.”
My hand tightens around the phone. “And you’re out of your mind if you think he’s coming into work today.”
There’s a long pause. “Who’s this?”
“Blake.”
“Blake who?”
“Blake Wo—De Luca.”
“And you’re his…”
I squeeze the phone in my hand. “I’m hiswife.”
“Oh…shit.”
“Yeah, oh shit is right.” I get off the bed, too agitated to keep sitting. “Are you the one who did this to him last night?”
“It was a friendly match.”
“What?” I ask, confused.
“We were boxing.”
“Are you fucked up in the head or something? You call what did this to him afriendlymatch?”
“He was fine when I dropped him off.” There’s a defensive note in the man’s voice.
“He collapsed as soon as he walked through the door, you asshole. What is wrong with you?”
There’s a pause. “I’m coming over.”
“No, I don’t need you—”
“I’ll be there in a half hour.”
The call ends.
Ugh! I resist the urge to hurl the cell phone across the room and simply drop it on the coffee table.
Fine. If Alessio Ferraro wants to get reamed by me in person, he can be my guest.
A half hour later, Alec calls, asking if I want to let one Mr. Ferraro up the elevator. Moments later, a man who claims to be him is standing in Nero’s living room.
Alessio Ferraro is a black ink stain against the cream-painted walls. I thought Nero had a lot of tattoos, but he’s got nothing on this guy. With the exception of his face, every inch of him is inked, down to his fingertips.
“Did you know your front door was open?” he asks. “You should keep that locked.”
I left it propped open after Doc left last night just in case things took a turn for the worse and he needed to come back before Nero woke up.
I point my index finger at Alessio. “You’ve got some fucking nerve. If your family wanted to kill Nero, why didn’t they just do it the first night he came back? You beat him to a pulp.”
He rubs the back of his hand against his cheek and shrugs. “He asked for it. He wouldn’t tap out.”
