Femme Fatale Loved (Pericolo #3) (10 page)

She laughs, finally slowing down in front of her pristine pale blue Cadillac. I grin when I see it, and while she notices the nostalgic look I have on my face, she laughs at me.

“First, I offered to pick you up. Second, you used to be fit and buff, so what happened? Third, I never needed an intervention; your brother just needs a massive fucking wake-up call.” She stills for all of two seconds to cock her hip and place her hand on it. “Last, I’m too angry to think of anything else but taking you to see something that will make you believe me completely.”

“I believe you already,” I say, fighting with her as she unlocks the doors and marches to the driver’s side.

She stills, pausing before getting into her car. “Maybe so, but I have another reason for taking you where I am.”

“Like what?”

“You coming?” she asks, sweetly, completely evading my question.

Bitch
. My body sags in defeat as I silently open the door and slide in. My action tells her everything she needs to know as she puts the key into the ignition and kick starts the engine. We join the traffic, hitting the freeway pretty quickly, and I watch as the houses whizz past, and the beach runs beside us, all the while wondering where the fuck we could possibly be going that would hold some sort of significance to her and me. When we finally make it to a suburban area, the traffic dwindles. By the time we pull into a parking lot, it’s like we’ve entered a completely different world – it’s quiet here, peaceful, tranquil.

I look at Alessa as she turns the engine off and gazes at me. I wonder why she’s looking at me so worrisome. I frown, feeling my brow draw together, as I question her quietly before asking her what the hell has her looking at me.

“What?”

“You okay?” she asks me, her hand poised on the door handle. “You look a little pale.”

“I’m fine,” I feign, giving her my biggest smile. I don’t know why she’s so worried.

“Amelia,” she replies, a stern, coercing tone.

“I don’t feel wonderful, but then look what’s been happening the past couple of days. I’ve barely eaten, barely drank anything, and I didn’t sleep great. It’ll pass.” I offer another smile, trying to pacify her worry, but it doesn’t work. “I just feel like I’ve overdone it already. Apparently, I’m not as fit as I used to be,” I joke, laughing to break her concern as I use her own joke back at her. “Now,” I state, turning my gaze back to the building in front of us and focusing on the welcome sign. “Why are we at a rehab center?”

“To show you something,” she states, evidently keeping the rest to herself. “Just follow.”

I do as I’m told, stepping out of the car and allowing her to lead the way. As we approach the modest building, that familiar scent that causes you to shiver in hospitals welcomes me – that scent of disinfectant and death. My mind transports me back to that time after waking up after the attack, the scent overwhelms me the longer I remain watching that film roll in the back of mind. I shake it away, reminding myself that this isn’t a hospital. No one dies here; this is the end game for people’s recoveries.

We walk in silence through the corridors, barely making a noise except for the members of staff who clearly know Alessa. It shocks me that they call her Alice, but it reminds me that I have to pry later – preferably over a few drinks when her tongue’s a little looser.

As we pull to a halt in a cream-colored corridor, photos of achievement beside us on the right and large windows on the right, Alessa turns to face the room and begins to smile proudly as she looks in. I gaze in, but I’m confused. I see a member of staff and a tall, broad man with a petite brunette in a wheelchair.

“That’s why I had the ring on,” Alessa comments, nodding toward a wide-open space full of physiotherapy equipment. “They’re two of my closest friends in Cali. Brett saved Danielle’s life after a drunk driver ran them off the road about seven months ago. Danielle lost the ability to walk and pushed Brett away pretty much as soon as her doctor announced her prognosis. He fought her when she cried for him to leave her behind and forget they had a life together. He saved her from that car because he loved her, he sat by her bedside because he adored her, and he asked me to help with a ring so he could make her a promise of forever. He wanted her to be his wife whether she could walk or not.”

I stare at the couple, the man – Brett – helping Danielle stand between the two bars while her legs struggle with the weight of her body. While she struggles to make her first shaky step, he cheers her on, empowers her, and encourages her. He gave her no room to falter, and there was no chance she could doubt the faith he had in her.

“So you see you don’t have to offer Zane the world to make him happy. Sometimes, offering him every part of you, Amelia, is enough. I know there’s a lot of baggage that comes with you. God, I’ve seen you carry it everywhere you go, but he already seems willing to carry it for you. So don’t fight to give him the world when all he wants is you. The world is just an added gift.”

I feel as if I’ve been rocked to the core as she speaks. Alessa has always understood me most, very much becoming a mother figure in the absence of my own. She could see straight through any mask I wore, would tear down every wall I tried to fortify, and would, without a doubt, give me the perfect advice – even if she couldn’t follow it herself.

“Not everything has to be perfect to be
perfect
... if you catch my drift?” she asks, giving me a curt look, and I nod. She turns back to face her friends before talking again. “Brett wanted the perfect ring for Danielle. He struggled with that and the size. I’m the same size ring as she is, and that final ring I tried on was perfect, and I couldn’t contain my excitement that we had found a ring that Danielle would love. That’s what Enzo witnessed.” She shakes her head at what I can only guess is the thoughts in her head. “His guilt didn’t help with making that conjecture fit whatever logic he made himself believe.”

I am at a loss for words. Coming here, seeing that sight of true love, has made me evaluate how little I really praise Zane for his love. I have that type of love waiting at home. There’s been the proof, the support, the adoration. Why am I running scared of solidifying what I already know?!

“Come on.” She gestures, stepping out of the way of the window before she’s seen. “I fancy shopping before a big lunch to make up for me ruining breakfast.”

***

I’m not sure if it’s the sudden rush of heat after being in an air-conditioned building that makes me dizzy, but I slow a little to allow it to pass.

I’m grateful it does pass because all I’m thinking about is how Enzo is going to feel like a fool when I get back to tell him. He wasted his opportunity to be a coward, and while I’m here, I can still see neither has made progress to mend even a millimeter of the cracks sliced into their splintered hearts.

Alessa apparently feels good about this visit too as she literally skips to the car. She made her points very clear without needing to do much, and I’m grateful for that. I just hope she’ll make up for the lack of breakfast I was able to get in me. As we head to the car, Alessa slows and turns to me. She means business; I can see it all over her.

“I’m coming back to Manhattan with you. Maybe not to reconcile, but to finally get a lot off my chest where Enzo is concerned. He wants to make assumptions; he’ll hate having the truth delivered to him.” She’s back to being the Alessa she was when she lived in Manhattan – a force to be reckoned with. “I don’t know what my future holds with Enzo, but it has to start to rebuild, whether that means to be friends or a second try. He will know exactly what sort of punishment his bastard moves get.” She offers me a wink, giggling as she continues. “Of course, I’ll do it with such sincerity and look so hot, he’ll do his best not to drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness.”

I giggle at her, but it doesn’t last long. I suddenly feel shattered, exhausted to the core. It hits me in a giant wave, and I wonder if my jetlag is catching up with me. That or my morning hike to the restaurant was too much in the morning heat. I remember Italy when I suffered from sunstroke; it felt a lot like this. It felt a lot like I could collapse and not move for a week. How impressive of me, to come here with one mission, and wind up sick.

“You okay, Amelia?” Alessa asks; her expression collapses to show her worrisome nature. “You’ve gone ghost white on me again,
tesoro bello
.”

“Jetlag?” I feign but change my mind as my head swirls, and I begin to worry about what’s going on. “I just don’t feel great,” I say, reaching out to grab her to help stable myself. My head swims, and I’m unsure what’s happening to me. “I’ll be okay in a moment.”

“I’m not sure,” she replies, putting her arms around me. “Let’s go and sit down for two seconds. I can run inside when I’m sure you’re okay to grab some water.”

She guides me to the nearest bench situated in the shade, and I’m glad to sit just so I don’t have to worry about when my legs are going to give way on me.

“It’s got to be the heat,” I say, placing a hand on my forehead as I wait for the fog to begin to lift. I’m out to label every single ailment I can think of to make me not panic about the sudden onset of this feeling. I’ll give excuses until I’m blue in the face just to make myself feel better. “It’s been a long morning, and I’m not used to this sort of humidity.”

“We’ll get you a bit of water. You might be dehydrated. You did that walk then had a mimosa and not a lot of it.” Alessa is rubbing my back, a hand still on mine. I feel her fingers trail my wrist, and she lifts my arm out to clamp her fingers down on my pulse. I look at her, and she grins. “I’m first-aid trained in case anything happens to anyone at the store.” She begins to frown. “Lia, your pulse is a little thready and slow.”

“Do I trust you to diagnose me on that alone?” I quip, trying to be a comedian to relinquish the tension in the air. I regret it as my laughter causes me to feel queasier than ever. “Fuck,” I mutter as the colors around me form a kaleidoscope.

As my head begins to pound and my vision worsens, I barely even register falling from the bench as everything begins fading to black.

I groan as I hear an all-too-familiar beep.

When my eyelids part, the bright light instantly blinds me, and I groan again, clamping my eyes tightly shut. What the fuck has me laid up in a hospital bed in a different state now? Forcing my eyes open, I look around the room and notice I’m alone. There’s the familiarity of the hustle and bustle outside of the room, but besides that, Alessa’s gone, and I’m alone.

I suddenly start to think about Zane. He can’t find out I’m in the hospital, not when we’re five hours apart from one another by plane. He can’t find out from a stranger that I collapsed. He’d go out of his mind with worry, and he can’t be distracted when he can’t do anything for me.

That’s a fucking lie
, I mentally berate myself. I could do with him right now; his comfort would be much appreciated. I need the calm in my storm. I need him to tell me that everything is going to be okay because his promises are the sweetest of them all that I’m fool not to believe in them.

Then I think about who’s paying for this, and I know I can’t stay here.

I throw the sheets off me; my scantily clad body instantly chills as the air conditioning cuts straight through my hospital gown. It doesn’t stop my feet to get out of this place. I reach up, disconnecting myself from the heart monitor and listen as it flatlines. I tear the IV tubing from the port, the liquid in my drip now spilling out on the floor, and I step in it as my feet hit the floor. I ignore the blood pulsing out, staining my hands.

The moment I stand upright, I feel my head rush and grip the bed for a moment to get my bearings before stumbling from the room like some sort of remake of fucking
Bambi
. I notice my room isn’t far from the nurse’s station, and I make a beeline for it. I rush across the corridor and all but fall into it on my unsteady legs.

“I need my discharge papers,” I demand, hitting my hands onto the wooden desk in urgency.

The nurse gives me a sympathetic smile, standing slowly to work her way to my side of the desk. She puts her arm out, preparing to guide me back to my room. “Sorry, Miss. Abbiati, not until the doctor’s seen you. Let’s get you back to your room.”

“You don’t understand,” I say, slamming my hands down onto the desk. “I need to get out of here.” While the nurse looks perplexed, she also doesn’t stop getting me back to the privacy of my room. “I can’t stay here. I demand my discharge papers!”

“Miss. Abbiati,” she begins, unwilling to let me get what I want.

“No!” I say, shouting too loud for my fragile head. I wince as my headache spikes with my own yelling tone. “I want my fucking discharge papers now, so I can leave!”

“Amelia,
tesoro bello
, let’s get you back to your room. You took a nasty hit to the head when you blacked out.” She puts her arm around me, using physical contact, unlike the burly nurse. “You need to see the doctor before you can leave.”

I look at her, hoping she’ll sense I’m more distressed at being here than anything else. “No, ‘Lessa!” I scream at her. “I need to leave
now
.”

“Why?” she asks, and I notice a quiver of pain lance her beautiful green eyes. Her cool and collected posture is a striking opposite to my agitation. “Amelia, you blacked out in front me. I was fucking terrified. I had to call for an ambulance! So why won’t you just wait this out? What’s stopping you?”

“I just don’t want to be here.”

I have multiple reasons not to want to be here. One is the memories it scolds me with. Second, I’m scared of the unknown and collapsing for no reason is a sinister thought. Third, my next of kin is Enzo and Zane. I can’t have Enzo find out I’m in California
and
in the hospital, and I can’t have Zane go ballistic that I’m in the hospital. It nearly killed him last time.

No one really truly knows how difficult money is. We have refused any and all help from my grandfather and, especially, my father. We’ve made do with Zane’s detective wage and my pitiful wage at the bar. With all the readjusting going on in my life, Zane refused to allow me to jump into anything more than bar work until I was able to live normally. I valued his notion but not now.

But how do I convey all of these without sounding maniacal?

“This is all such a mess,” I whisper, feeling my demise creeping up. My fears are dormant beasts, but given the right moment, they become feisty beggars who will claw me inside out. “He can’t know I came to find you, and he will if I stay here, Alessa. He’s not supposed to know what I’m doing. He forbid me, so I need to leave.”

“They’re not calling anyone because I’m here with you. I had a feeling Enzo was in the dark, and when they mentioned he was one of your emergency contacts, I told them I’d deal with it. You are, after all, my little sister.” She lifts my head to look at her with a gentle press of her hand to my chin. “Now, please, for my peace of mind, can we get the doctor to finally say what is wrong with you and then we can look at leaving?”

“I just want to go back to the hotel now,” I say, calmer. My anger didn’t get me anywhere, so maybe a calmer exterior will. “I will go back into the room when I can leave.”

The doctor comes up the corridor, rushing with every step to get to us. He looks at me, sympathetic eyes exactly like those that doctor had when he shattered my perfect little fairy-tale idealism.

“Miss, we can’t let you go just yet, so can we get you back to your room now?”

That lit my already short fuse, and I blow.

“Can I have my damn discharge papers, please?” I retort, and although I still feel exhausted, my fiery temper has not dampened any. Now that the doctor is present, I can find out what’s wrong with me, but I don’t care to know.

“Amelia,” Alessa begins, stepping in front of me, blocking everyone out. “Just listen to the doctor.”

“Please, Alessa,” I beg with her, gripping her tightly. “Please, just make them discharge me so we can leave.” I can feel my face redden with exertion, my vision turning blurry as I beg and fight. “Please.” That one came as a whimper, unraveling from my throat so torturous, my head sagged forward to rest against her shoulder.

There’s a moment of calm between everyone, everyone but me. I’m in a battle with myself, with my nerves and emotions, and with my undying need to end this trip and go back to the sanctum of my family.

“Please,” I whisper, my body now spent.

“Amelia Abbiati!” A strong, stern voice breaks into my hysteria.

I still against Alessa, my fight defused with one sound of my name from
that
voice. My back straightens, and while I look at Alessa, she stares at me with a gleeful look. I feel my breathing shallow; my heart pounds in slow, dramatic thuds. I try to blink, telling myself to turn, but I can’t. Now, I feel my heart falter, the air in the room becoming suffocating.

It can’t be.

“Amelia Abbiati,” the voice repeats, this time closer.

I turn on the spot, not caring that I’m barely breathing. The first thing I notice is that incredibly strong bone structure and then the piercing green eyes that bore into me. It’s been such a long time since I felt the intensity of them on me, and I always wondered if it would feel uncomfortable to be under them again, but it feels like the years melt away into nothing.

If I can’t have Zane, I’ll take second best.

As he presents himself with open arms, I rush into them. I’m not sure if it’s because of the moment or because I’ve missed him that has me rushing to him, but it feels incredibly soothing to be in his presence. He wraps his arms around me so tightly I feel as if he’s convinced I’ll disappear if he lets me go. I allow absolutely everything to come to light.

“Calm,
bella
,” he soothes, a hand wrapping around my head to allow me to sink into him.

I’m no longer able to keep a lid on everything. I cry against him, gripping on tightly as everything I had wished to tell him comes out in strangled sobs. He was always the one outsider who understood why I was so conflicted, why I wore my elaborate mask to appease the family, but behind closed doors, I longed for something more than bloodshed and tears. He understood my battles; if anything, he lived them with me, stood by me in the face of all storms, and never, not even when I was at my worse, did he look at me as if I were a monster.

“Dante,” I breathe as we pull apart.

My head was all over the place anyway, but now, I’m not sure I’m of sound mind to be standing here with him. I’m not the same Amelia he used to argue with, used to decompress with. I’m the girl who hits the liquor hard or the woman who used to use her sexuality to make sure her victims died with a hard-on. I hate the girl I used to be – or at least, I hate some aspects of her.

“Come on,” he says, wiping my face of tears, before taking my hand. “You’re seeing a doctor then we’ll get you out of here. I promise you that.”

“We’re?”

“Alessa called me,” he comments dryly, not letting anything else slip.

I go over to my bed, finding myself quickly followed by the nurse from the desk. She makes quick work to hang a new IV bag on the pole by my bed and connect the tubing to my IV port once more. Her gaze is cutting as she tries to sort me out, but I offer her a small, polite smile, hoping she’ll see the apology in my eyes. She seems to sweeten some, and as soon as I’m back on the bed, she pulls the sheet over me. She even raises the bed and fluffs my pillows before grabbing onto the EKG pads that I ripped from me in my moment of dramatic flair.

“You can turn the monitor off, Maria. Her heart rate has been perfect since she was admitted.” The doctor hovers at the foot of my bed, carefully watching every movement. “Thank you,” he says as she finishes and leaves. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” I speak softly, unable to meet his gaze as I feel heat flush my cheeks. “Stupid. Embarrassed.”

I could admit to an entire gauntlet of emotions right now, but those are three adjectives I never agree with most. It’s all heightened now that I have an audience, and while Dante lingers in the doorway with Ryleigh, the girl he left everything behind for, I know Alessa will rain down on me with such fury for being such an idiot and not telling her I felt unwell.

“I can understand the feelings waking up in a hospital stirs, Miss Abbiati, but we’re only here to help.” His tone is so polite and warming that I can’t help but feel the ease wash over me. I relax some, but still reach for Alessa the moment she’s beside me, my hand gripping hers. “I have to ask, but when did you last properly eat?”

My mind ticks over everything that happened, rewinding the events I’ve been through the last few days. It starts at the rehab facility, Alessa’s anger over Enzo, the barely eaten breakfast, my restless night, my direct greeting with Alessa after a five-hour flight, the large dose of PDA with Zane at check-in, the drive to the airport, and then it hits me hard – breakfast with Zane. That was when I last ate, over twenty-four hours ago.

“Yesterday morning,” I mumble, lowering my gaze.

“Amelia!” Alessa scolds, squeezing my hand even tighter. “Why did you not eat last night?”

I shrug, looking up at her. “I don’t know. I was tired after meeting with you. I just went back to the hotel, tried to call home, got no response, and fell asleep. I didn’t find time to eat.”

“What would Zane say?” Alessa asks, crossing her arms over her chest to scold me.

“Zane is going to kill me.” I groan, putting my head in my hands. “How could I be so stupid?”

Clearing his throat, the doctor breaks into my worrying. “Being dehydrated isn’t the only issue that caused you to collapse; it was just the final cause of it.” I look back at the doctor, awaiting my fate. “You’re pregnant, Miss Abbiati.”

The world starts to swirl and twirl again, phasing everything out bit by bit. I shake my head, not to clear the descending fog, but to make sure he spoke the right words. But he doesn’t deter from his diagnosis. While he has a bright fucking grin on his face at the deliverance of such amazing news, I sit sobering up so much I can barely comprehend anything.

“That’s impossible,” I barely managed to say as I feel like my body is shutting down on me in shock.

“Give us a few minutes.” Alessa’s voice penetrates my daze, and I feel the bed dip. “Amelia,
bella
, I need you to look at me.” She speaks, her voice strong in my almost catatonic state. “Amelia,” she prods again, coercing. “Honey,” she continues. This time, her hands come up to frame my face. “What you thought impossible isn’t.”

The dams break, and I let out a sob. It’s not one twisted with grief or regret; it’s a cathartic, happy cry. What had dampened my fairy tale for so long was now a glistening beacon of hope. Every tie I had to Giovanni was fraying into threads that were barely keeping me captive.

“I really want to go home now,” I say, yearning for someone to grant me that one wish of mine.

“Soon,” she replies, her compassion hitting me. “I promise.”

I relent and watch as the doctor enters the room again sensing I’ve calmed. He comes back, discussing my bloodwork with us. He tells me that my electrolytes were low from lack of food and liquids, but since being on the IV drip, they were stabilizing, and all I needed was a booster. Had I eaten at breakfast and not sent Alessa into a frenzy, I probably wouldn’t have collapsed, but the lack of food and overheating had my body struggling to cope. Pair all of that with a pregnancy in its first trimester, and I was a ticking time bomb.