33. Cristiano

C ristiano

A medical team is already gathered at the doors of the hospital as I crash through the barrier and swerve to a halt. The Di Santo family has been keeping this place in business for the past decade with all the patients we send its way. They'll do whatever the hell they can to save the one in the back of my car—I'll make sure of it.

They've opened the doors before I've even rounded the hood, and I press a knuckle to my mouth as they gently lift Trilby out and arrange her boneless limbs on a trolley. My heart is pounding through my rib cage. I can't think of anything but keeping her alive.

The fact hits me again like a bullet between the eyes.

I love her.

And if she dies, it won't just be Savero I annihilate; it will be anyone who crosses my path in the process.

Words are shouted between them, and a medic rushes over with what looks to be a portable defibrillator. Another places herself in front of me, gently pushing me backward.

"Stand back please, sir."

I look over her head—I need to see what's happening.

"You might want to look away too."

Screw that.

I glare at the woman, and she steps to one side, just as a jolt of electricity surges through the two pads pressed against Trilby's breastbone. Her body jumps into the air. One of the nurses counts, and the words blur into one in my distorted mind. The pads are taken to her lifeless body, a loud bang sounds, and she jumps again.

I take a step back involuntarily. It's not working. Whatever they're doing, it's not working. The only thing competing with my sense of utter helplessness is the steel barrel burning a canyon into my back.

Two more medics run out of the building, one carrying a large syringe. I watch distantly as they plunge the needle into Trilby and pump her full of some chemical. Then the pads are applied again.

I close my eyes before I hear the next bang, and this time I feel it deep inside my chest. Everything goes quiet—even the blood in my own veins.

"We have a pulse!"

My eyelids burst open.

Four medics take each corner of the trolley and run inside the hospital, while another medic packs the equipment away.

"Follow me." The nurse who kept me back is now cupping my elbow and urging me toward the door.

We jog after the trolley, down a corridor, and through some double doors marked "ER." I've been here before, many times, but never for someone I care about this much. Never for someone I'd die for.

The nurse leaves me outside the room they've taken Trilby into. As she walks away, I grab her arm.

"Is she going to be okay?"

The nurse looks back at me, her expression morphing from one of fearful reverence to one of sympathy. "I'll have the doctor come speak with you." She nods toward the team of people quietly but quickly attaching tubes and monitors to their newest patient. "It may be a little while."

I swallow. "No. I need an update. Now."

The nurse almost runs away, leaving me staring at the woman on the bed.

She looks so small and innocent, but I know better. She's stronger than most men I know. She let me—no, commanded me—to rip through her barrier and leave my seed deep inside of her. It was defiant, as if she were laying claim to her own body before she was forced to let someone else take it. She's carried the burden of saving her family without complaint. She turned her cheek while I walked away, leaving her to her fate. I'll never forgive myself for walking away so easily.

My thoughts are disrupted by the arrival of a doctor. I've hardly breathed in the whole time I've stood here. I haven't thought about anything other than this woman's survival—not even the fact I should be telling her father she's in the hospital or considering in grave detail exactly how I'll punish my brother for this. All I know is the answer starts with "kill" and ends with "him."

"Mr. Di Santo." A male doctor appears by my side. "Can I ask what your relationship is to Trilby Castellano?"

Augusto must have given them details of who she is, but ice threads its way down my spine. "She's my sister-in-law. She's family."

She's mine.

"She's married to Mr. Savero Di Santo?" A ghost of a frown crosses the doctor's face. He's right to question it. The whole city would know if Savero had married her already.

"Not yet." Not fucking ever.

"I'm sorry, sir." The doctor swallows nervously. "I need to see a blood relative if possible."

"I'll call her father." I hold his arm as he tries to walk away. "As soon as he's confirmed he's on his way, you'll tell me the status of her condition."

The demand in my tone reliably roots the doctor to the spot as I press the phone to my ear.

Castellano answers his office phone on the second ring. "Cristiano. I wasn't expecting to hear from you. Savero is here at the port—do you need to speak with him?"

"No," I rush out. "And do me a favor. Don't tell him I've called. I need you to trust me. Can you come to the hospital?"

A door closes, dimming the sound of trucks moving shipping containers around in the background. "Is everything okay?"

I inhale and glare at the doctor. "I hope so. You need to get over here though—fast."

"Who is it? Is it Trilby?"

I can't afford for Tony to let anything slip to Savero, so I don't answer. "Just get here as quickly as you can," I say, and then I hang up.

I raise my eyebrows expectantly. The doctor motions to a couple of chairs.

I take a long look at Trilby lying motionless on the bed and then perch on one of the seats, my Di Santo muscles primed to jump up and gun down anyone who might dare to cross my path at any second.

"She's in a critical condition, sir. We're working hard to stabilize her heart, and we've taken tests to understand what caused the attack."

"It was poison," I say. "White baneberry."

The doctor narrows his eyes. "How do you know?"

"Because ..."—my breath feels scratchy against my lungs—"it's what killed my father."

The doctor smiles kindly. "With all respect, sir, the great Gianni Di Santo died from heart failure."

"And what is it you suppose Trilby Castellano just experienced?"

A shadow falls over his features. "Why do you think it's white baneberry?"

"Because my brother kept it at our family home. I believe he may have killed my father."

Saying the words out loud feels like a dagger to the chest. My breath escapes, and I have to pause. How did I not see it? If it was so clear to Savero that Father wanted me to succeed him instead of my brother, why wasn't it clear to me too? Was I so blinded by the grief of losing our mother that I couldn't see anything else?

If I'd stayed, would it have been clearer then, or would Savero have felt even more threatened?

And then the hardest question of all settles over me like a gravestone. Could I have prevented all this? Could I have saved our father? Perhaps if I'd been less interested in pursuing my own success, I would have more easily spotted someone else's downfall.

The doctor watches me intently.

"And I think he tried to kill me."

He frowns. "You?"

"Yes. It was in a glass of water." I nod toward the room where Trilby's lying. "But she drank it instead of me."

"You're sure it's white baneberry?" He doesn't look convinced.

"Yes. Why?"

"We'll need to run some different tests. If that is in her system, we'll administer specific medication."

He stands up and begins to walk away, but then he turns back to me, alarm fresh on his face.

"Do we have to worry about the don, sir?"

Now that's something I can answer with confidence.

"No. You will never have to worry about him again."

I wait for Tony to arrive and stand by while the doctors explain the condition of Trilby's heart.

"Is this why you need to see Savero?" Tony asks. His voice is woven with panic, and I see a kind of terror that's filled those eyes before.

I rest a hand on his shoulder. "He was the last person I saw her with. I want to find out what he knows."

His voice drops. "Do you think he was responsible for this?"

I'm absolutely certain of it, but I don't want to distract Tony from being at his daughter's bedside.

"I don't know, but believe me, whoever was behind this ... I'll make sure they don't wake up from their next sleep."

Tony grits his teeth and nods, and a silent agreement passes between us.

My legs feel solid, my spine lengthened, my conviction through the fucking roof.

"I'm going to get to the bottom of this."

Tony levels me with a determined stare and then grits his teeth. "You'd fucking better."

I leave him staring disbelievingly at his daughter and go off in search of my car. Fortunately, someone had the foresight to move it out of the path of emergency vehicles. A young medic is standing beside it, looking in awe at me as I approach.

"Mr. Di Santo," he says, practically bowing his head before stepping to one side.

"Thanks, buddy." I toss him a roll of bills before sliding in and starting the engine.