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Dread fills me all over again. The thought of having another person worrying about me is crushing.
I swallow hard. “Yes. I need to tell him. I owe him that much… give him an opportunity to say goodbye…”
“Don’t fucking say that!!!” Aiden stands abruptly. “Nobody is fucking saying goodbye to anybody. Gualtiero and I will find you a heart… if it’s the last thing I do,” he vows.
And he has a point. Tiero would do anything in his power to save me. His last words to me jump to mind.
Promise me, angel, promise me you’ll come to me if ever you need help… no matterwhat.
But to what lengths would Tiero go? Given the nature of his business, do I even want to know?
“Do you think Tiero would kill somebody to save me?” The moment the question leaves my mouth, I know for certain that he would. Aiden doesn’t say anything. His conflicted eyes answering for him.
“I couldn’t live with that, Ade,” I whisper. “My life is not worth more than somebody else’s.”
He shakes his head, clearly conflicted.
“Just call him. Please,” he says quietly and the despair in his eyes is tearing me to bits. “He has the best hackers at his disposal. They will find a donor somewhere.” And he quickly adds, “Someone who’s already dead.”
He picks up my phone from the coffee table and hands it to me. I’m reluctant to take it.
“I can call him for you,” he offers.
“No. This is something I have to do.”
Butterflies swarm in my stomach as I take my phone from Aiden with trembling hands.
He kisses me before rising. “I’ll go and find a vase for the flowers while you call him.”
“Please don’t leave. I have no secrets from you.”
“I know that. But I think it will be easier for you.”
I watch as Aiden exits the room and closes the door behind himself. Taking a deep breath, I stare at the phone.
Just get it over with.
I find Tiero’s contact details and hover over the call button.
What will I say to him?
I try rehearsing something in my mind, but it’s blank and numb. Guess I’ll make it up as I go.
With a quivering heart, I press the green call button.
Ring… ring… ring…
Shit, what time is it in Italy? It could be the middle of the night there.
Ring… ring… ring…
It’s late afternoon here. That would make it around eleven at night there. He’d still be up, right?
Ring… ring… ring…
When the call finally connects, it’s his voicemail. I hang up as if stung by a bee. I will not tell him this news in a message. He’ll ring me back when he sees my number.
Not a minute later, the phone rings in my hands.
