Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Saverio

M y wife has a warped sense of duty. She sits at my bedside no matter how long I ignore her, sponging down my arms and showing me photos of Claire as payment for saving her life.

When she wrings out the sponge and brings it back to the skin of my elbow, I catch her wrist. “You don’t have to do this. There are nurses for that.”

A pained look crosses her features, but she quickly wipes it away. “We’ve been through this. I’m your wife. In sickness and in health, remember?”

“I never meant those vows.”

She stares at me as if I’ve slapped her.

“I never meant to burden you with my care,” I elaborate.

“No.” She drops the sponge in the bowl. It hits the soapy water with a splash, sending drops over the rim onto the nightstand. “What did you want? To die?”

There’s a knock on the door. Before I have time to answer, Rachele steps inside, carrying a huge fruit basket in her arms.

Anya stiffens.

Great fucking timing, Rachele .

“Sav,” Rachele says, my name lost in the sob that catches in her throat. She puts the monstrous basket on the trolley at the foot-end of the bed. “Oh my God.” Her bottom lip trembles. “They’re gone, just gone.”

She wears a black dress that reaches mid-thigh. Her lips are painted with her signature red lipstick, but despite her perfect make-up, signs of grief are visible on her face. Her skin is pale, and her eyes are red and puffy from crying.

“How did you get in here?” I ask, narrowing my good eye.

“The guys outside know me,” she says. “I’m still Mrs. De Luca, you know.”

I need to have a fucking word with those men. My orders were clear. No visitors other than Dante.

Sniffing, Rachele glances at Anya. “I still can’t believe it.”

My sigh is weary. “What are you doing here, Rachele?”

“I came to tell you the funeral is tomorrow.” She shrugs. “I wanted to see for myself that you’re okay.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Anya says. “I can’t imagine how difficult it is for you.”

“Don’t bother to come to the funeral,” Rachele tells Anya. “You’re still recovering.”

Meaning Rachele doesn’t want Anya there. I wouldn’t let her go alone anyway.

Rachele addresses me. “I saw Elena. My God, she looks miserable. She didn’t know what Raphael was planning. I swear it.”

My smile is cold. “So it’s confirmed then. He did it. Did Elena confess that to you?”

“No,” Rachele cries out, moving to the side of the bed. “Of course not.”

I turn my face to have a visual on her, which means I can no longer see Anya on the other side of the bed. I hate it, hate that I don’t have a peripheral vision on my right side, hate that I can’t measure Anya’s reaction. I’ve never liked not knowing what’s going on in her head.

“You came here to plead for your cousin, did you?” I say.

“Look, there’s word on the street.” Rachele licks her lips, looking nervous. “Everyone knows who did it, and I want justice for Papa and Giorgio just as much as anyone else. All I ask is that you leave Elena out of it.”

I laugh. “Did she send you to make her case?”

Rachele shakes her head vehemently. “No.”

“Here are the facts, Rachele. Raphael didn’t consider Anya or her baby when he broke a sacred rule to shed blood at our wedding.”

“Sav,” she exclaims. “You can’t be that cruel.”

“I’m sorry about your father and your brother. Rest assured, I will avenge them. Now go, and don’t come back.”

Her features contort into a mask of confusion and disapproval. “You’re not the man I knew.”

My chuckle is dry. “I guess you never knew me.”

“Jesus, Sav. What happened to you?”

We both know she’s not talking about the damage to my body.

“Was there anything else?” I ask.

“I inherited most of Papa’s assets. I’ll have quite a bit of money to put at your disposal if you want to make things right, but my condition remains. You leave Elena in peace, or you don’t get a penny of my money.”

I turn my face away. “I don’t need your money, Rachele.”

She walks back into my line of sight. “You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

I give her a thin smile. “I won’t.”

She mumbles, “Stubborn ass,” on her way to the door, not looking back when she leaves.

A moment of silence passes.

“She’s right,” Anya says after a beat. “You’re going to need that money.”

“No,” I say, the word harsh. “I’m not using Rachele’s inheritance to settle my vengeance.”

“It’s her vengeance too.”

“You don’t know her like I do. She doesn’t give a fuck about justice. What she did was offer me a buy-off in exchange for her cousin’s life.”

The color vanishes from Anya’s cheeks. “You’re not going to kill a pregnant woman, are you?”

“No,” I admit. “I’m not going to kill Elena, but what do you think would’ve happened if I told Rachele that? She would’ve run straight to her cousin and reassured her. Something like that always comes out. And do you know what the men, Raphael, and everyone else would think? They’d think I’d gone soft, because what I should be doing is avenging what he tried to do to you.”

“You’re not Raphael,” she says with disdain. “It will be wise to remind people of that.”

“Because I’m such a good man? No, tesoro , people don’t want a good man. They want a man who can protect them.”

She doesn’t answer.

“You should go home,” I say. “You’re wasting your time here.”

“The police questioned me.”

I breathe in. Out. “What did you say?”

“That I know nothing.”

“Why?”

She tilts her head. “Why what?”

“Why didn’t you tell them the truth? Luigi and Giorgio are gone. They can’t kill you any longer. You could’ve told them I killed Lewis and Kearney and threatened you to keep your mouth shut. Do you think you owe me because I saved you?”

“Honestly, Saverio? Sometimes, I don’t know why I give a damn.”

“You don’t, darlin.’ You just think you do because you’ve told yourself that you should.”

Her nostrils flare. “I know you’re hurting.” She waves at the bed. “I know this isn’t easy, but do you have to be such an asshole?”

“Don’t like it? Go home. Better yet, do as I tell you and stay there.”

She grabs her bag from the chair. “You need to retaliate. The men need to see that you’re doing something.”

“I will,” I say. “Once I get the fuck out of here.”

“That may be too late. The club is losing money.” She hesitates. “Too much money.”

“Let me worry about that.”

The almost inaudible breath she lets out sounds tired. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Worry gnaws at me. I wish she’d listen. I wish I could fix this for her. Not being able to agitates me to no end. She’s wearing herself out running between the house and the hospital when she’s in recovery herself. She just had a baby, for God’s sake.

“I wish you wouldn’t,” I say honestly.

But she keeps on coming back, and my men keep on ignoring my order not to let her into this room.

She gives me a long look before shutting the door on my ugly words.