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“No. The infirmary.”
“Why? Did someone get shot?”
“Yes.”
“Jesus! Who is it this time? Why didn’t anyone call me, damn it?” I spin around and head toward the front door. “I’m coming down.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mrs. Ajello. Boss said he doesn’t want you here.”
I still as I’m about to turn the handle. “Why the fuck not?”
“Because it’s him who got shot.”
“What?”
“The doc is digging out the bullet.”
The phone falls from my hand, and I run out of the penthouse. I don’t wait for the elevator. Dashing, instead, down the stairwell, I run across the hallway toward Stefano at the entrance to the infirmary. When he sees me coming, he blocks the way and raises his hand as if to stop me.
“Mrs. Ajello, Boss said I can’t let anyone in.”
“Fucking, move!” I swat his hand to the side, grab for the door, and get inside, only to stop dead at the threshold.
Salvatore is sitting on one of the gurneys. Ilaria is next to him, sewing up a wound in his side. A bunch of bloody gauzes are scattered on the floor around her feet. I suck in a breath, and upon exhaling, something like a whimper leaves my mouth. Salvatore looks up at me and lets out a curse.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I yell, brushing the tears from my face and marching toward him. “Can’t someone else get shot for a change? Or is that your exclusive right?”
“Milene, calm down,” he says as Ilaria ties the last stitch.
“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down, you reckless, negligent idiot.” I grab at his shoulders and continue shouting, paying no heed to Ilaria and Nino, both of whom are standing to my left and staring at me with shocked expressions on their faces. “I’m done counting the gunshot wounds on your body! Do you understand?”
“Milene—”
“This is the last one!” I bark into his face, then burst out crying. “Promise me!”
“It was probably a ricochet. It barely went in.”
“I don’t give a fuck if it’s a bloody paintball capsule, Salvatore!” I sniff and grit my teeth. “Next time you get shot, I leave.”
His left hand grabs me at the back of my neck, and hestares at me with his nostrils flaring. “You will never say that again, do you hear me, Milene?”
“I. Will. Leave.” The words tumble out as tears continue to roll down my cheeks. I reach for him, pull his face to mine, and slam my lips to his. “Damn it, Tore.”
Someone clears their throat, and I turn my head to find Ilaria standing next to me, one hand on her hip and the other holding a roll of bandages. “If you two are done, I’d like to proceed,” she says, then looks at Salvatore. “And I’d like to join the ‘last time’ club for good measure. I’m done patching you up. Next time, find someone else. Milene, he’ll have to take antibiotics for the next ten days, can you check whether we have any in the locker?”
“No.” Salvatore grabs me by the waistband of my shorts, keeping me in place. “Nino, go check the locker.”
Nino nods and goes to rummage through the drawers while Ilaria bandages Salvatore’s wound. I caught a glimpse of it before she started, and it didn’t appear too bad. Still, I can’t make myself stop shaking. When Nino told me Salvatore had been shot, the worst of all scenarios flashed before my eyes. Even seeing he’s okay does little to quell the feeling of dread.
“I’m going to get you a shirt,” I say and turn toward the elevator, but Salvatore’s hold on my shorts tightens.
“Nino, have someone go upstairs and get me a shirt.”
Nino throws Ilaria the box of antibiotics and takes out his phone.
“I could have gotten your shirt,” I say.
Salvatore presses his lips together, then bends to whisper in my ear. “You said you were going to leave me. Until I manage to forget that, Milene, I’m not letting you out of my reach.”
