Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
I miss his threat when white-hot and merciless pain explodes through me with the tenacity of a bomb. It spears my abdomen and ripples the air with a scream I can’t hold back.
As my knees buckle, my hands dart down to clutch my stomach. My nails bite through the silk fabric, but it has nothing on the agony shredding through me when bright crimson droplets paint the tips of my fingers.
Looking down, my heart shatters. Blood seeps into my dress and spreads like a stain of betrayal. My vision blurs with tears when a long trail careens down my thighs before it pools on the marble floor under my heels. As the chandeliers blend into the white halos dancing in front of me, I fight to stay upright.
They’re so pretty they make death less scary, and I nearly succumb to the blackness calling me to it until the voice from my dreams ramrods through chaos.
“Valentina!”
Giovanni catches me in his arms and pulls me into his chest. His heartbeat slams against my ear when he races us past the priceless antiques that adorn the hallways of his family compound.
“Don’t fall asleep,” he demands between stomps. “You can’t fall asleep, okay? Stay with me. Keep your eyes on me.”
Pain overtakes every joyful spasm he’s given me when he gallops me down the front stairs and sprints for the SUV with Matteo behind the wheel and Dante holding open the back passenger door.
The faces of the guests who followed his sprint blur as he carefully places me on the back seat. No amount of tenderness can diminish the terror on my mother’s face, Valeria’s wide eyes, and the calm-as-death nature of the man behind them, though.
Valeria’s father is unfazed by the dramatic event occurring, and although the pain could be making me hallucinate, it appears as if he’s smiling.
As the tangy aroma of blood swamps my tonsils, my body convulses. The pain is excruciating. I’ve never experienced anything close to this level of hurt, and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.
Though it doesn’t make my desire to be my mom’s guardian angel any less stringent.
“Gio… Gio…” If this is my final day on earth, I don’t want to leave until I’m confident Giovanni isn’t angry at my mom. She needs someone like him on her side, and I don’t want her unusual freakout to make things weird between them. “My… mom…” The world spins so fast I can’t hold on. I’m seconds from passing out. “She… She…”
“Your mom is okay. I promise she’ll be fine. It’s crucial that you concentrate on you now, dolcezza. Can you do that for me? Can you put yourself first for a change?”
My fingers clutch his shirt as the darkness creeps in. “I… I…”
My vision fractures as the lights dancing across his handsome face fade. I try to cling to the honesty in his words when he promised Mom would be okay, but the fight becomes unbearable crazily fast.
The agony in the lower half of my body is horrific, but it has nothing on the pain slicing through my head. It feels like my brain is too large for my skull and that it’s seconds from seeping out of my ears.
“Valentina, open your eyes.”
Giovanni shakes me when I fail to obey his command.
I try to tell him I’m okay. It’s peaceful here and pain-free. But the same blackness swallowing all light and sound entombs my words in my throat.
“Valentina!”
The last thing I hear before I’m swallowed whole is Giovanni’s broken plea: “Stay with me, Valentina. Please.”
Then nothing.
34
GIOVANNI
Matteo hasn’t even brought the car to a stop before Dante leaps out of the front passenger seat, flings open the door next to me, then assists me in lifting an unconscious and severely bleeding Valentina out of the back. Blood is everywhere. Between her legs, in her mouth, and trickling from her nose.
I crash through the hospital doors like a hurricane roaring through a glass factory. Valentina is flopped in my arms, and that terrifies me more than the amount of blood she lost during the commute to San Giorgio’s. She’s always felt vibrant and alive. Now she’s limp like a fragile doll and cold against my chest.
“Help!” My beg bellows over the sound of doctors being paged. “Please, someone help!”
My lungs are burning from how fast I ran from the dining room to the convoy of SUVs my family is never without. I can barely feel it. Pain doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except getting Valentina the help she needs.
When nurses rush forward with a gurney, I hesitate. Letting go feels like I’m surrendering the last thread of hope stitching her to my life.
If it weren’t for the violent sloshes of blood splattering my shoes, I’d never hand her over.
My arms barely open before she’s rolled away on a gurney and swallowed by fluorescent lights and starched sheets.