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The sound of the monitors.
Marcello’s heart stopped beating.
Tears coated my bottom lids, my chest heaving from crying so hard.
“She’s awake,” a male voice boomed.
I could sense his presence before he ran his fingers down my arm. “I’m here, Drea.”
I blinked away the hazy image of my handsome devil, and he blew out a relieved breath. Luca hovered over me, his spiky dark hair all over the place. He was usually so perfect and manicured.
“He’s dead.” I covered my heart with my hand to still my rapid breathing. “Isn’t he?”
Luca took my hand, his fingers soft and warm against mine. “No, baby. He pulled through. Your grandfather saved Marcello.”
I had the sudden desire to climb out of bed, but when I tried, Luca held me down.
“You need to rest.”
“No.” I shoved his hand away. “I want to see Marcello.”
“He’s out cold, Drea.” His knuckles brushed my cheek. “Just stay in bed and let me take care of you.”
Take care of me? When the hell did Luca ever comfort me? If I wanted to feel better, I went to Marcello. He always knew the right thing to do and say.
“I’m fine.” I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and sat up. “Let me see him.”
Luca stepped to the side, and Marcello’s bed came into focus. He was in the hospital bed beside mine with his eyes closed. I could see his chest rise and fall and let out a sigh of relief.
He survived.
I slid my legs off the side of the bed. My head spun from a wave of nausea that caused me to stagger to the right. Luca grabbed my bicep to hold me up. “You’ve been sleeping for close to twenty-four hours. The drugs are still in your system. You need your rest.”
I clutched his shoulder, fighting the dizziness sweeping over me. “What the hell did you give me? I feel like shit.”
He shrugged. “A cocktail from your psychiatrist.”
I pressed my palm against his chest to regain my balance. “Dr. Porter gave it to you?”
He hooked his arm around me and nodded. “You need to take it easy until the drugs wear off. It was a heavy dose.”
My mouth hung open in shock. “Why did you drug me?”
“Because I didn’t want you to see what was happening to Marcello.”
“He’s alive,” I breathed, saying the words aloud to comfort myself.
“Yes.” He stroked my arm with his fingers to soothe me. “And he’ll stay that way if you let him sleep.”
I looked up at him, eyes narrowed. “I’ve been out for a day, and he still hasn’t woken up?”
He shook his head. “We have to wait and see. Marcello could wake up a minute from now… or never. It’s too early to tell. At least he’s breathing, and his brain function looks good.”
“His heart stopped, didn’t it?”
“Yeah, baby. He died on the table twice before your grandfather revived him.”
“But he promised me,” I sobbed, resting my head on his chest. “He said he would come back…”
