Chapter 23

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

DANTE

“ W hat do you mean, released?” I shout, knowing I’m causing a scene but not giving a fuck.

The nurse sighs, rolling her eyes over to the male nurse leaning against a filing cabinet as if she’s asking him for backup. “It’s just like I said, sir. She asked the doctor to go home, and he advised against it, but she signed the AMA forms so we couldn’t hold her.”

Anger sweeps through my chest before worry breeds, spiking my heartbeat.

“That’s fucking idiotic. She needs medical treatment!”

Now, the nurse, who looks at me like she thinks I’m going to eat her for dinner, pushes off his spot beside the filing cabinet. “Medical treatment is a personal choice unless the patient is unconscious and cannot give consent. We’re not in the business of holding people prisoner around here. If you think she isn’t in her right mind, you can, by all means, follow the elevator to the fourth floor to the psych ward; maybe they can help you.” He smiles smugly, and my knuckles crack as I tighten my fists against my sides.

“Or maybe you could visit the fourth floor for yourself if you’re feeling distressed and out of control, sir,” the nurse, whose name tag reads Meghan, says with a snide look on her face.

I lean forward, fully ready to go toe to toe with this woman solely based on how angry I am at Alyssa’s stupidity. Still, Meghan stands up, her dark blue scrubs shifting, her chair rolling backward behind her, and she pushes up her glasses and narrows her eyes at me.

Suddenly, I lose all interest in the battle, and scoff, turning away from the nurses’ station and making for the elevator.

“Don’t forget,” Meghan calls after me. “Fourth floor is psych!”

I grind my teeth as I get inside and smash the button for the first floor.

Looking down at my phone, I hover my finger over the contact image for Slate in my recent calls. Once I suck in a steadying breath, however, I realize I can’t call him.

He’s on his honeymoon, and I need to call Lorenzo or handle this myself.

Since this is a personal matter, it’s probably best to handle it independently.

I call Alyssa’s phone, heart speeding as the elevator spits me into the lobby. She doesn’t answer.

She has to go home, all her things are there. Well, my home, anyway. Somewhere along the way over the last few days, it’s also started to feel like it’s her home.

I raced to the apartment, and when I got off my floor, Pauly was standing at the door.

“What the hell are you doing up here?”

He looks at me, startled. It’s like he’s not my driver and hasn’t been in my life since I can fucking remember.

“Pauly…” I warn.

He looks at the door as it opens.

“Alright, this is the last bag, and then all I have to do is lock up. Do you think you could give Dante my key?”

She turns around, eyeing Pauly when he doesn’t answer.

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary, Ms. Alyssa.” He nods in my direction.

She flicks her eyes toward me.

She doesn’t bristle, however. She digs in her pocket for the key. “Good, you’re home. Here, it’s easier to give it to you, anyhow.”

“What do you think you’re doing?” I ask her.

Pauly grabs her bag, rolling it toward the elevator. “I will meet you downstairs,” he tells her, and she sighs and nods at him.

I’ll deal with that traitor later. He knows it, too. He glances in my direction as the elevator takes too long to reach the penthouse floor.

Once he’s on it, I step toward Alyssa. She lifts the key in my direction again.

“Where are you going?”

“The apartment Slate got me. You knew this wasn’t permanent. I told you all along what this was between us, Dante. Things with me are too complicated, and I’m not in a place to do this with you right now. I’m tired, and I don’t feel good…”

“Yeah,” I say, cutting her off. “You should be in the hospital right now.”

“Don’t start with me, Dante. We’re nothing. I appreciate you letting me stay, and I’ll find some way to repay you eventually.”

“I don’t want your fucking money,” I snarl.

She huffs another sigh as she tightens her purse on her shoulder. “Alright, then. If you don’t want the key, I guess I can mail it back to you.”

I snatch the key out of her hand, and she sidesteps me and presses the button for the elevator.

“So this is it? You’re just going to walk away from what we have.”

“What do we have?” She spins on me, and I stutter step, not expecting the ire in her tone. “We have a few good fucks, and mounting lies, the way I see it.” Her words might as well be a sharpened shank skewering through my gut.

“Wow,” I manage, shaking my head at her as the elevator opens.

“You knew what this was. You said you were alright with it, Dante. It’s not my fault you let yourself get in too deep with me.”

Holy shit, this girl is fucking ruthless.

“Your dad really did a number on you, didn’t he?”

In a split second, her eyes grow haunted and dark as she flicks them toward the elevator, gets on, and presses the button to meet Pauly at the car.

“Goodbye, Dante.”

I keep my lips sealed, watching the doors close as my heart nearly leaps from my chest to follow her.

I can’t help the burning ache building in my chest, nor the itching need to chase after her. I can’t chase someone who doesn’t want me. It makes me look desperate. It makes me look weak.

I’m a fucking Ricci, for Christ’s sake.

I’ve got to get my shit together.

The pulsing music makes the cells in my veins dance in my blood as it rushes through them. Lorenzo shakes his head to the music as he sips from his drink.

This is the dumbest shit I’ve ever agreed to do, but when the men saw me in the state I’ve been in since Alyssa left two days ago, they told me I needed to get out of the apartment. I didn’t know that meant we would get rip-roaring drunk, but here we are.

I’m five drinks in, with a good buzz fluttering through me.

“So, how long until she comes back? Who wants to wager?” Antonio slurs.

Pauly is on standby tonight because we cannot drive away from this bar.

“She’s not coming back,” I grumble, annoyance warring in my chest.

Lorenzo scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Fuck if she isn’t. Look at you. I’d come back, and I’m not into men.”

“Damn, really? I was going to shoot my fucking shot tonight,” Antonio jokes.

Lorenzo pulls a gun from the back of his pants, pressing it to Antonio’s neck. “I’ll fucking kill you where you sit.”

Antonio’s eyes grow worried, fear blazing in them. “I was just kidding, man.”

Lorenzo breaks into a laugh, putting his gun back. “So was I.”

“Fuck you, asshole,” Antonio spews, shakily moving the drink in his glass back to his lips.

I shake my head at their banter. The two have a love-hate relationship, but I can see why the girls had so much fun with them at Brynne’s bachelorette party. They’re ridiculous and entertaining.

“What makes you think she’ll come back? Other than my looks,” I ask Lorenzo.

He shrugs. “She’s got it bad for you, Dante. She has to get out of her own way, is all.”

“She’s the child of a nasty divorce. Watched it all happen.”

Lorenzo’s eyes soften with understanding. “That I get completely.”

“How so? A divorce that didn’t happen to her shouldn’t bother her this much all these years later. Not to this extent.” I scowl as Antonio puts more drink in our glasses.

“Man, if she grew up watching her mom be hurt and turn into someone wholly different because of a man who was supposed to be the best there was in the world, that leaves a lasting effect. Why did they get divorced?”

“Cheating, I think,” I toss back.

He sighs. “Yeah, her commitment issues are understandable then. If the one man who’s supposed to keep you safe from harm is causing the harm and pain, I think you’d be a bit more jaded when you looked at the world from there on out, too, wouldn’t you?”

I let out a breath. “I know, and I get it. I guess I just…” I shake my head as I can’t get my thoughts arranged into a proper sentence.

“You just love her, and that’s all well and good, Dante, but she has to go through this process and her feelings in her own time. You can’t rush someone through dealing with their past traumas.”

I laugh. “What are you, the psychologist for the Ricci family?”

He straightens the collar on his button-up. “Maybe I am. Never know, I could get this family whipped into better shape, psychologically speaking.”

I shake my head, still smirking at him.

“Don’t pressure her. Just be there,” Antonio adds.

I bite my lip as I pull out my phone and ignorantly send a message to her.

I miss you.

I hit send before I can overthink it, and it’s off into cyberspace for Alyssa to deal with now. Having told her, though, I feel better.

Once I’m home, changed, and lying on my bed in the silence that not having Alyssa here brings, I open my message to her and stare at it, hoping that the little bubbles will pop up as she gives a reply.

They never do.

Heading to the piano, I sit and run my fingers over the stiff, ivory keys. Music has a doorway into my soul and always has. I haven’t played this particular piano as much in recent years.

My phone lights up on the top of the piano, and I grab it, nearly knocking it to the floor altogether.

“Hello?” I answered without looking at the contact ID.

“Hey.”

Fuck, it’s only Lorenzo.

“What are you still doing awake?” I ask him.

He was hammered when Pauly and I dropped him at his apartment building, and I didn't think I'd see hide nor hair of him for days after the amount of whiskey we’d drunk.

“I wasn’t. I got a call from the docks; we’ve got men sitting on them. They finally caught someone and are holding them at the warehouse for us.”

The room spins as I stand too quickly. “Well, that’s all well and good, Renzo, but I drank far too much to deal with him tonight.”

He chuckles. “Don’t worry about it tonight. Recover, and then we’ll plan how to go forward.”

“Do we loop Slate in?”

“Nah, let him have his honeymoon. We don’t want Daddy killing us because he had to cut his bunny romp short.”

I laugh honestly, feeling the weight of the sadness I was wallowing in slip away momentarily.

“Let me know a plan in the morning.”

“How about afternoon? It is morning.”

I look at my phone. He’s right; it’s three a.m. “Right. Talk later.”

Lorenzo ends the call, and my phone beeps at me.

I check the messages, seeing that she still hasn’t replied, and then I shut the piano and stalk off to bed.

If I’m going to be interrogating this afternoon, I need to sleep off some of this booze.