41. Chapter Forty-One

I'm heading to my room after another solo dinner when there's a commotion of shouting and banging from the foyer. Curiosity getting the best of me, I move to the railing, gripping it and looking down into the large living room.

"—here any minute." That's Bernice.

"I called him on the way; he should be here now!" Enzo growls, sounding angrier than I've ever heard before.

"Yes, but the problem is he isn't able to help your arm, so he had to get his son," Bernice explains quickly, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor.

Help his arm? What's wrong with his arm?

"He better be here within the next two minutes or he's going to have a bigger problem to deal with than my arm—a fucking bullet in his head."

Heavy footsteps sound and a moment later, Enzo, his two ass-kissers, and Bernice walk into the living room from the main foyer. I don't try to hide myself, and Enzo seems too furious to notice me. His left arm is in a makeshift sling. His clothes are torn and—is that blood on his forehead?

The two ass kissers move behind him, the one who never talks looking at me with narrowed eyes. Fucker doesn't miss a thing. They both look like hell too. One has a black eye, the other is bleeding above the eye. Their clothes are ripped, dirty, and torn like Enzo's.

What the hell happened?

Bernice mutters something I can't make out and the doorbell rings. She whirls around and rushes toward it. The three men continue out of my view into the hallway below me.

"Thank god you're here," Bernice says. "Hurry up before he has both our heads."

She hurries back this way, followed by the doctor who helped me and a younger man who looks about Enzo's age.

What happened to Enzo? And to the other guys? Were they attacked?

I hurry down the stairs, needing to know what's going on. I'm grateful I don't have any shoes on, so I can move quietly. Knowing Enzo, if he sees me, he'll order me back to my room.

When I reach the hallway, it's empty. It's clear they went into one of these rooms, but which one? I move past each of them, listening for voices, and pause when I hear them behind one on the right. Does he have an actual doctor's office? No way. He can't possibly… Can he?

Most of the rooms down here I've never been in for fear of walking into someone's bedroom—like I did that one time. I know Rafael's room is down here somewhere, but I'm not interested in finding him either.

I press my ear to the door, and there is zero notice before the door is pulled open only seconds after me leaning against it. I almost fall flat on my face. I catch my balance and back up, only to find Bernice glaring at me with a flustered look on her tight face. She scowls at me, closing the door.

"You shouldn't be here," she says.

I raise my chin, crossing my arms over my chest. "Enzo said I can go where I want as long as the room isn't locked."

Her scowl deepens, if that's even possible. She walks away, her heels clacking angrily on the wood floor. I wish one of those heels would snap and she'd break an ankle.

When she's gone, I go back to listening, but all I hear are muffled voices. I barely make out words. It gets silent after a few moments. There is a deep grunt and a snap. I pull my head away from the door, my heart pounding heavily. That didn't sound good.

Someone laughs, this deep belly laugh—who the hell is laughing right now?

The door is pulled open again, and this time the younger man, who I don't know, walks out. He shuts the door behind him and startles when he sees me.

"Sorry, Miss." He tips his head and walks down the hall.

I follow him.

"Can you tell me what happened?" I ask.

He looks at me over his shoulder, shaking his head. "I'm not at liberty to discuss patients."

"But I'm his wife," I say, the words making both of us come to a halt.

Did I just play that card? Yes, yes, I did. Because I want answers.

"His wife?" he questions with a furrowed brow.

I nod. "It's new, barely a week, but I'm worried. He's been gone all day, and he comes home like this, and I heard grunting and—"

He nods, stepping closer to me. "Dislocated shoulder, but it popped back in with ease. He'll be fine." He gives me a small, reassuring smile, and I wonder how this man who seems so nice works for someone like Enzo.

"What's the healing time?"

"He should keep the sling on for a couple of weeks. No heavy lifting for at least two months."

I nod again. "Thank you."

He smiles and leaves.

I turn around, staring at the door. Enzo is on the other side. I wonder why I'm relieved knowing he is okay. If he were dead, I'd be free.

But I'm relieved he isn't dead, and that brings me a whole new wave of confusion I don't have the energy to pick through.