Chapter 7

Layla

Silence fell in the wake of the shot. The car careened around another turn. The warm hand on my back lifted, allowing me to straighten.

My pulse slammed against my eardrums as I raised my head.

“Eli!” I lurched forward, but Nonna and Eli both sat, unharmed, in the front passenger seat. Both of them unharmed, upright. Calm, all things considered.

Aside from the faint, coppery tang of what might have been blood, it seemed nothing had happened. But I couldn’t find any blood. Maybe it was a lingering smell.

“Carlo.” Aldo towered up beside me, but his voice was that same stoic calm as he spoke to the driver. “Take us to the estate instead.”

Had I imagined that shot? Maybe the scent of blood was imaginary, too. I reached into the front seat to take Eli’s hand. Somehow, he was calm, eyes dry.

“Are you scared, baby?” I asked, giving his fingers a squeeze. I was sure as hell scared, but I hoped it wasn’t showing.

“No.” Calm blue eyes met mine. “Being scared doesn’t help. The only way to help Mommy and Nonna is to be a calm boy.”

My breath caught in my throat. He sounded like—

“That’s very mature of you, Eli.” Aldo’s voice matched his son’s stoicism, and my heart seized in sudden panic. Would Aldo see through my lie in my child’s uncanny calm?

But Aldo merely reclined back against the seat as the car assumed a more leisurely pace. I forced a heavy breath through my nose. He didn’t know. There was no way he could know.

Instead, I watched the buildings drift past the window—taking us further out into the suburbs. Trees arched up over the road, and the buildings grew larger, more luxurious. Separated by lush green lawn.

Estate, Aldo had said. But I was still surprised when the car passed through a set of ornate wrought-iron gates, and a massive manor loomed up over us. The towering brick-and-stone building sprawled across a pristine lawn.

Delicate rosebushes framed the house, and elaborate gardens pressed alongside it, adding splotches of color alongside the green. Truly, it was breathtaking.

It made my townhouse—carefully saved for and meticulously maintained—look like something plucked out of a slum. It put our lovely Alaskan cabin to shame.

Likely, it could have housed several dozen people without any of them having to share space. Still, it set my teeth on edge when Aldo leaned forward again to speak to the driver. “Carlo, we’ll need rooms for Dr. Bennett and her family.”

The thought of sharing any space—even one so large—with Aldo …

But how could I protest? When the alternative was being watched. Shot at. When the alternative was danger I couldn’t protect my family from …

I climbed from the car. Immediately, I found Eli’s little hand. Squeezed it tight in mine. More for my sake than his—to assure myself he was alive and safe.

I looked up at the driver, only to realize with a jolt of surprise that I knew him. He was the man who’d been shot. The man whose life I’d saved.

The others had referred to him as Aldo’s second in command.

“Follow me,” Carlo said, already headed towards the house. “We’ll find separate rooms for everyone. That way no one’s caught in a single trap, should any real danger arise.”

I couldn’t tell if he was joking.

It didn’t sound funny to me, and I couldn’t bring myself to laugh.

Still, I followed him through the front door, Eli’s hand in mine. Nonna fell into step beside me, but Also remained behind. I didn’t turn to see if he watched us depart.

Told myself I didn’t care if he watch or not. If he followed or not. If he slept in this house.

Carlo led us through a massive marble foyer, where a stone fountain spit water in a neat arch toward the crystal chandelier. Up a sprawling curved staircase we climbed, so I peered down on a gold-and-blue ballroom below. Holy hell, this place was something else.

Together, we traipsed down an ornately carved hallway lined in wide doorways. Carlo stopped before a massive mahogany door. “The boy can stay here.”

The boy. My boy. Alone. I couldn't leave him alone! But—

This way, no one’s caught in a single trap … maybe it hadn’t been a joke as I’d thought. Maybe he was right. And if these men were after me for some reason, sticking close to my son would only put him in danger.

I knelt so my gaze fell even with Eli’s. “We’re only going to be here a few days, okay?”

“I know.”

“Do you need me to stay with you tonight?”

He shook his head, eyes wide and somber. “I can be brave. I’m not afraid to sleep alone.”

I wouldn’t let myself think how much like his father he was.

Instead, I ruffled his fine blond hair, and nudged him towards the room. Eli slipped through the door without protest, without a backwards glance, and I closed the door behind him.

Safe, I told myself. Safe, Aldo had promised me.

“Layla.” Nonna murmured in my ear. Her fingers found my elbow to tug me gently back, away from Carlo, so she could speak without being overheard. “You have to be careful.”

My teeth gritted hard enough to hurt. “You think I don’t know that?”

“They’re a powerful family, the Marcellos,” Nonna murmured. “Have been since they came to America. For over a century. Killing is second nature to them.”

I nodded. I knew.

Maybe I should never have saved that man’s life. But … when my eyes lifted to Carlo, I knew I couldn’t have let him die. I was a doctor, and my job was life. Given the choice again, I’d made the same one.

So, I followed that man to my room.

It wasn’t until I’d closed and locked the door behind me that I felt I could finally breathe. I stood with my back against the door, letting my pulse calm, my breath return to normal.

Still, I couldn’t help the words from echoing through my head. The ones I’d overheard, the ones not spoken in hissed gossip between hospital workers. No, these, I’d gleaned from the police.

He has no heir.

Some factions think if they take down the Don, it’ll divide the family empire.

The attack was a test of Aldo’s power …

But I couldn’t think about that. Not here. Not now. I had to be strong—the woman I’d built myself into after my heartbreak had all but destroyed me.

I forced myself to straighten off the door. Force the thoughts down. Study my surroundings.

A king-sized bed sprawled in the center of the room. Thick curtains covered half a wall’s worth of windows. A set of leather sofas sat before a massive wardrobe on the far side of the room, and a closed door likely led to an ensuite bath.

Hopefully with a shower.

It wasn’t until I stepped away from the wall that I noticed the blood splatter on my shirt. I plucked at the white cloth to study the splotches of dried rusty-red. Where had they come from?

I was a doctor; I was no stranger to blood. Still, my skin crawled with the need to divest myself of the soiled shirt.

Of course, in my rush, I hadn’t packed any luggage. Maybe I could find something in the wardrobe. In any case, looking was better than standing here, thinking. Remembering—

I crossed to the wardrobe and tugged open its door. An array of clothes appeared, tucked neatly onto hangers and arranged by color, like someone had stayed here recently. Men’s shirts, I realized as I riffled through.

Oh well. They looked clean, smelled clean, and would certainly feel better than this ruined blouse. I plucked one off the hanger and headed for the bathroom.

The marble ensuite was almost more luxurious than the bedroom. The sprawling jetted tub offered more than a slight temptation, but I opted for a quick shower instead.

The warm water, however, did little to soothe my frazzled nerves. I needed a bed, sleep. Unconsciousness.

So, in five minutes, I cut the water and slipped the too-large shirt over my shoulders. I slipped back through the frosted glass doors into the steamy bathroom, toweling my wet hair—

I half-collided with something solid. Warm.

Human.

I stumbled backwards, but large, callused hands wrapped around my waist, holding me steady. Holding me upright. Safe.

I dropped the towel and looked up—right at Vasco’s bare torso.