“And the leg? A gunshot wound to the calf rarely requires amputation.”
“I was shot once in the ankle and twice in the calf, from short range,” he says. “There wasn’t any chance of saving it.”
I close my eyes and bury my face in the crook of his neck. “Promise me something.”
“What?”
“Please don’t get shot again.”
“It’s not like I’m running around with a target drawn over my back, Milene.” A kiss lands at the top of my head.
“Yes, you are,” I mumble into his neck. “I asked Nino why there’s no security detail on you. He said you don’t allow it.”
“If someone is persistent enough in trying to kill me, they’ll do it. Security detail or not.”
My head snaps up. “So, what, you’ll do as you’ve been doing so far and wait for it to happen?”
“No. I’ll try my best to kill them first.”
“Then, try harder damn it!”
Hi tilts his head, regarding me with interest. “Would it bother you if I got killed?”
“Jesus f*ck, Salvatore!” I snap. “Would it bother me? Are you for real?”
“Yes. I want to know.”
“You want to know.” I blink, not believing what I’m hearing. “He wants to know if it would bother me if he got killed.”
“It’s a simple question, cara.”
He needs to have his head checked. “Yeah, it would bother me.” I shake my head in frustration. “Would it bother you if I got killed?”
Salvatore’s body goes still. “Do not. Ever. Ask that. Again.”
“You started this with the idiotic questions.” I take his face between my hands. “No more gunshot wounds. Promise me.”
“I’ll try.”
I sigh and close my eyes. He’ll try. Perfect.
“Does that mean you’ll start taking security detail?”
“No.”
Of course not.
“Then deal with the Irish,” I say through my clenched teeth and press my lips to his. “I want them dead.”
“I’m already working on that.” He takes a strand of my hair and wraps it around his finger. “Why are you so bloodthirsty all of a sudden?”
I stare at him, amazed by his cluelessness. He does have a problem with realizing and processing certain things if he can’t see that I’m in love with him.
“Must be PMS.” I sigh, hoping he’ll accept my answer and not question me any more, and place my head on his chest.
Salvatore’s hand lands at my nape and slides downward, lightly brushing my skin with the tips of his fingers. I close my eyes and enjoy the sensation. I’m half-asleep when his hand halts at my neck.
“I bought you something,” he says in a serious tone. “But if you don’t like it, I’ll take it back.”
“You suck at giving presents,” I mumble into his chest.
“I know.” He buries his fingers in my hair. “Do you want to see it?”
“Did it cost a million dollars? A hint for you—if the answer is yes, you can take it back now.”
“No.”
“Okay.”
“It’s in my jacket. I’ll be right back.”
I watch as he reaches for the crutches, rises, and heads toward the door. I use the opportunity to ogle his tight ass, clad in black boxers. Very nice indeed. Salvatore sleeps in just his underwear, something I wholeheartedly approve of. He returns a few minutes later, throws the jacket on the bed, and sits down. Taking out a red velvet box, he places it beside me on the pillow. I sit up and open the box to find a simple gold bracelet. It’s thick, yet somehow still delicate.
“It’s beautiful, but you don’t have to buy me jewelry. You know I rarely wear it. I haven’t even had the opportunity to wear that ridiculously exuberant bracelet you bought,” I say.
He stiffens beside me. “I need you to wear this one,” he says. “At all times.”
“Okay.” I shrug and open the clasp to put it on.
“It has a GPS chip inside,” he adds, and my head snaps up.
Milene remains silent at first, and then her gaze moves between me and the bracelet in her hand. “Why?”
“The calls are not enough anymore. I almost flipped out today while you were with Pippa. Barely managed to sit through a meeting because I was wondering where you were. I need to know where you are, Milene. At all times.”
“You knew where I was. I called every hour,” she says. “There were four bodyguards with me. You could have called them to check.”
I called Stefano twice. It didn’t really help. I became anxious less than fifteen minutes later. “Alright. I’ll find a way to deal with my issues some other way.”
I’ve shocked her. It’s apparent from the way she flips her gaze between me and the bracelet.
“Can you explain those . . . issues more clearly? Please.”
I take her hand in mine and trace a circular pattern on the middle of her palm. “It starts as a slight unease—nothing special, a little discomfort, but it quickly transforms into a restlessness that’s hard to control,” I say. “Then, I become distracted. Edgy. I can’t concentrate. My brain constructs different scenarios, each worse than the last, and it’s all I can think about. I can’t block it out.”
“What scenarios, Tore?” Her eyes search mine.
Not taking my eyes off hers, I press my lips together. “You,” I say through gritted teeth. “Hurt. Or kidnapped.”
“You understand your fear is unfounded, don’t you? Especially when we’re in the same building.”
“It doesn’t matter.” I reach out and take her chin. “I need to see you, to be sure you’re really okay. If that’s not a possibility, I need to know where you are. Every f*cking second.”
I don’t mention that I also have this crazy urge to touch her all the time. I can’t stand being in the same room with her without placing my hand on hers or wrapping my arm around her waist. If she’s sitting nearby, it has to be on my lap. I can’t process the idea of her being near and not having her skin against mine. It’s like dangling a bottle of water in front of a man dying of thirst. A physiological need I have to fulfill, or else I’ll go insane. I’ve been resisting that compulsion so far, and only succumb when I’m close to losing my mind. For now, that is.
Milene regards the bracelet, then meets my gaze. “So, my wearing this would help?”
“Yes.”
She sighs and offers it to me, extending her left hand. “Okay.”
I take the bracelet and fix it around her wrist. The moment it’s fastened, the feeling of restlessness building inside me dissipates almost completely. “You’re going to wear this at all times, even when you’re in the shower or asleep. And you’ll continue calling me, as we agreed.”
“I will.”
I nod and, wrapping my arms around her middle, pull her toward me. “Good.”
Chapter 22
“The bride doesn’t look excited,” I comment, looking at the dark-haired woman in her early twenties sitting next to Rocco. Instead of looking happy, she’s sitting with her head lowered and eyes focused on her hands which are folded on her lap. “Arranged marriage?”
