Page 3 of A Bride for the Mafia King

Rush Medical Center, Chicago, 7:42 AM

The horrible smell of the sterilization products used by the hospital staff burns my nose as I step out of the elevator to the emergency department on the sixth floor. I still don’t know if we should consider it lucky or unlucky to live in a city that had such a large and well known trauma unit.

“Excuse me,” I say, stopping a nurse who’s pushing a medicine tray up the hallway, “I’m looking for Onofrio De Mello. Do you know what room he’s in?”

Nodding over her shoulder, she replies with a bite of sarcasm, “Straight up the hall. Just look for the well-dressed goons blocking up my hallway.”

A light smile breaks across my face and I shake my head. Nico would have brought a small army in by now.

“Sorry about that,” I tell her, “I’ll tell them to stay out of the staff’s way.”

Turning the corner I spot my brother, Nico down the long hallway. He’s standing with his arms crossed, talking in low tones to one of the nurses. His suit jacket is off, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and even from this distance I can see the vein in his forehead popping as he waves the nurse off. Which is saying something.

My brother is usually the definition of control, his appearance pristine. This disheveled version of him is out of place, odd. He looks up from the floor, alerted to my approach by the sound of my red high heels clicking.

It won’t be long before Don De Mello is moved from here to a private room, and this will be my best chance to sneak in, speak with Nico and get out before I’m noticed. Another interaction with De Mello is something I want to avoid at all costs.

“Eva, what are you doing here?” he asks, his voice light.

“Cut the crap Nico, how bad is it?” I demand, stopping to stand in front of him, crossing my arms and dipping my hip. “And I want the truth, not the fluffed version you’ll give everyone else.”

He exhales through his nose, looks around, then places his hand on the small of my back and guides the conversation to a small window alcove where we have a little more privacy.

“It’s not good, that I'll say. His knee is shattered, and he has a severe concussion from the blow to his head as well as several broken ribs. They're going to have to operate on the knee but they're watching him for internal bleeding or hemorrhaging before they take him to surgery. He’ll be here for several days if not weeks.”

I let out a slow breath, attempting to still my face so that no one but Nico would know the relief I’m feeling at the Don’s condition. It would not do to have the Don’s second in command or his sister showing any sort of positive response to the situation.

“So, he is out of commission for a while then?” I ask, keeping my voice quiet, unable to omit the edge of relief from my tone. Some of the tension falls away from my body, shoulders slumping slightly in relief.

I’m safe, for now.

Nico gives me a sharp look, “Careful, don’t look so … excited.”

“I’m not,” I recover quickly, glancing around to see if anyone is listening to us, “I’m just… surprised is all.”

Maybe, he’ll die in surgery and this will all be over.

I realize how horrible that would sound to anyone else. But in truth the man is a monster. A true predatory monster if ever there was one and I have become his prey.

Unfortunately, I caught the Don's attention when I turned eighteen. As my brother rose through the ranks, I attended more and more of the functions held by the higher families.

At first, the Don kept his infatuation to leering glances and appreciative smiles as his eyes roamed over my body. Uncomfortable, yet bearable. For Nico’s sake, I was able to stomach it despite the unease it caused me. When he became the Sotto Capo I thought that would put a stop to the Don’s advances, but it didn’t.

I was barely able to escape his grasp when he cornered me three nights ago at a dinner party. He grabbed me by the wrist, hard enough to bruise the skin there, and dragged me into his study, his breath reeking of bourbon. Thankfully, he was so intoxicated I was able to slip away from him without much insult or injury.

Nico found out about the harassment over a month ago and I was barely able to stop him from going on a rampage. He ranted and raved and made every verbal threat in the book. I never told him about the incident at the dinner party but I feared he knew and this was the result.

The Don’s hospitalization means I’ll have a reprieve—peace, if only for a few days. No leering, no pressure to smile at his disgusting jokes. No unwelcome advances when my brother is out of the room. I just hope that Nico isn’t behind it, or worse, that he isn’t planning something bigger. For both of our sakes.

“You weren’t there last night. Where were you?” I ask quietly.

“I was otherwise occupied,” he replies dryly. His eyes skirt the room again.

“Kind of odd, isn’t it, you’re always near at hand. Why not…” I pause, glancing at the flurry of people around us. Realizing this is neither the time nor the place for such a discussion. “It doesn’t matter. Forget I said anything.”

His eyes narrow slightly, “We will talk about it later.”

I know him well enough to catch the slight twitch beneath his eye. He knows something about all that had happened last night. Mouth set in a hard line, I nod in understanding and table the topic for later.