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“How do you feel?” he asks gently.
“Sore. But the pain is not as sharp.”
He nods, reaching for a bottle of pills. “Take these." He tips out two. "They will help with the pain and prevent infection as you heal.”
I swallow the pills without protest, craving relief from the constant throb in my wounds.
Stefano helps me sit up, propping pillows behind my back. He hands me a glass of water. “You must drink. You have lost a lot of blood and need to stay hydrated.”
I take slow sips of the water, realizing how parched my throat feels. As I drink, Stefano continues to watch me closely, as if afraid I may collapse at any moment. His concern both touches and saddens me. He cares for me, but answers to my torturer.
When the glass is empty, I sigh and lean back against the pillows. A wave of dizziness washes over me, and I close my eyes.
“Isabella?” Stefano's voice is sharp with worry. I feel his hand on my cheek, then brushing the hair back from my face.
“I am all right,” I murmur. “Just tired.”
“You must rest.” His lips brush my forehead. “I will be here if you need anything.”
Comforted by his presence and the effects of the medication, I drift into a deep, healing sleep.
I slowly become aware of a dull ache in my shoulder as I wake. For a moment, panic rises in my chest, memories of gunfire and searing pain flashing through my mind.
Then I feel a warm hand enveloping mine and open my eyes. Stefano sits beside the bed, his gaze intent on my face. The sight of him calms my racing heart, reminding me I am safe here in his care.
His thumb strokes the back of my hand. “How do you feel?”
I take a deep breath, assessing the state of my injuries. The pain is manageable now, reduced to a persistent throb. “Better, I think."
He nods, relief evident in his eyes. “The bandages look clean. I will change them again once you have eaten.”
My stomach rumbles at the mention of food, and I realize how hungry I am. “What time is it?”
“Nearly sunset.” Stefano stands, releasing my hand. So, 24 hours have almost gone by?
"Isn't the Capo wondering where we are?"
"The compound is severely burned. It'll take a few days to fix it. He knows where we are, and has no alternative to place you. Now, I will make you some soup and bread. Do you need help sitting up?”
Suddenly, I remember. The burner phone. Shit. Where is it? I carefully put an arm under the covers, and feel the outline of it, in my jacket pocket. Thank god.
I start to shake my head, then pause. The room tilts slightly when I move, and I pull my hand away from under the covers to my head.
“Perhaps...some assistance would be good.”
“Of course.” Stefano slides an arm behind my back and helps me into a sitting position, arranging the pillows to support me. “There. Is that comfortable?”
“Yes, thank you.” I sink back against the pillows, suddenly exhausted from even that small effort.
Stefano brushes the hair back from my face again, his touch gentle. “Rest. I will return shortly with your meal.”
He leaves, and I stare into the flickering fireplace across the room.
My mind wanders.
In Stefano’s care, I have found more than just physical healing. I have found compassion, trust and a tender affection I have not known before.
When Stefano returns with a sandwich, some eggs and fruits, I can barely muster the courage to eat. But, he convinces me to give it a try.
