by Brook Wilder
“Well slut,” he said, a leer on his face. “Looks like you wormed your way into Contarini’s life and he might actually care for you. Too bad. If only you had come to be with me, I would have already turned you loose for the streets to deal with you.”
“Please,” Vittorio rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. “Do whatever you want to me but leave her alone.”
Rocco laughed.
“Are you fucking serious? You want me to leave her alone? Who says you are in any position to bargain?”
Vittorio licked his lips and Sharon’s heart broke as blood dribbled out of his mouth. A sob escaped her.
“I’ll give you anything.”
Rocco tsked and the man beside Vittorio kicked him hard.
“Stop!” Sharon cried out. “Please! Haven’t you done enough?”
“Not nearly enough,” Rocco sneered, looking down at her. “And I’m gonna break him before I kill him, starting with you.”
Sharon tried to back up, but the couch was already at her back as Rocco reached for her, dragging her near Vittorio.
“You are gonna watch me fuck your girl,” he said harshly as his men came to hold Sharon down. “And I hope to God her screams follow you to hell.”
Sharon’s heart stopped as she was spread eagled. Rocco leered over her as he ran a hand down her body, gripping the waistband of her shorts.
“We already know you don’t have any panties on.”
Her eyes found Vittorio, but he was looking away, his head hanging, and she realized there was nothing that he could do.
“Please,” she said as Rocco tugged on her shorts. “Let me take them off.”
Rocco licked his lips, nodding to the men who were holding her down.
“Release her hands, she can’t do anything anyway.”
Sharon exhaled as they did so, waiting until Rocco was fumbling with his pants before she struck. She caught his hands with the razor blade. He screamed and fell back as gunfire erupted around her.
Suddenly, a large body covered hers and she screamed before she realized Vittorio had somehow launched himself to cover her from the gunfire.
But, as soon as it started, it was over. Vittorio’s body sagged against hers and she felt the warm stickiness of his blood seeping into her clothes.
“Vittorio,” she whispered, her hands touching the face that was resting against her chest. “Oh god, please don’t be dead.”
“N-not yet,” he groaned, before he was lifted off her and Marcello filled her vision.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said shakily, pulling herself to a sitting position. The air was heavy with blood and gunfire and she tried not to look at the bloody bodies that seemed to fill the living room. “Vittorio.”
Marcello stopped her before she could go over to him.
“He’s in a bad way.”
“I don’t care!” she shouted, pushing at his shoulders and moving him out of her way.
Sharon hurried to Vittorio’s side and knelt beside him. He seemed to be bleeding everywhere all at once. She was unsure what to do. The tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Help him.”
A heavy hand landed on her shoulder, comforting her.
“We will.”
Sharon turned to Marcello and leaned against him, her tears wetting his shirt. She couldn’t lose Vittorio now, not when they had just found each other again.
Chapter 19
Vittorio
Vittorio woke with a start, wincing as he pried his eyes open to an unfamiliar, ornate ceiling. Hell, he hurt all over. Even his scalp ached with the slightest bit of movement.
Well, he couldn’t be dead then.
Groaning, he shifted on the soft mattress, pain shooting through his body. In all his days, he hadn’t been this beat up before, like a truck had ran over him numerous fucking times. What the fuck had happened?
Then it all came back in a rush. Rocco breaking into his penthouse, finding Sharon, beating Vittorio. Shit, what had happened?
“So, you are awake.”
Vittorio turned his head carefully and made out Marcello leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. His expression was wary but didn’t hide the exhaustion that radiated from him.
“You look like shit.”
Marcello let out a laugh.
“You should see yourself. You look like someone put you in a meat grinder, my friend.”
Vittorio was scared to even laugh, the pain in his side making it difficult to even breathe.
“How bad is it?”
“Three broken ribs, a broken nose and a concussion. Bullet hole in the left calf, wrist fractured. You sure is hell ain’t a handsome fella right now.”
“Sharon?” he forced out, scared to ask.
He didn’t remember much about that night, only bits and pieces fractured in his thoughts.
“She’s fine, worried about your ass. Fuck man, you scared all of us. You have been out for three days.”
Three days? Vittorio started to sit up, but the pain knocked him back on his ass once more.
“Where?”
“Doc Bradford’s house,” Marcello answered, walking toward the bed. “Here, take these.”
Vittorio took the pills from Marcello and swallowed them dry, glad to be somewhere other than a hospital. Doctor James Bradford was a personal friend of the family, one that had patched many a Contarini over the years without sending them to the hospital. Knowing Bradford, Vittorio was confident he was going to survive.
“Anafesto?”
“Dead,” Marcello said flatly. “I don’t know which one of us killed him, but the remaining family has already pledged their loyalty to the Contarinis. You are now the most powerful mob boss in New York. How does it feel?”
“It fucking hurts,” Vittorio said, earning a laugh from Marcello. “Tell me.”
Marcello blew out a breath.
“We got the alarm trigger, but we were clear across town when we got it. Fucking streets were blocked off due to some sort of fire, so we had to take a detour. When we got there, Rocco was about to… well, rape Sharon. Tough chick you got there. She nearly sliced off Rocco’s fingers with a razor blade.”
Vittorio smiled, even though it was painful to do so. That was his girl.
“We started firing and cleared the damn place in seconds. I called in a team and we got you here. Your penthouse is a fucking mess, but all the bodies have been taken care of and the cops didn’t even bat an eye at the blood on the floor. Might be a good time to have the place remodeled.”
Vittorio groaned.
“Fuck, that’s gonna be a shitload of money.”
Marcello grinned as he walked toward the door.
“My opinion? Let Sharon take the reins for a while. I’m gonna go get her. She needed some sleep. The woman hasn’t left your side much.”
Vittorio listened to his friend leave the room, his heart warming to the fact that she hadn’t left him, even when he didn’t even know she was here. He was a lucky bastard.
A moment later he heard, or rather smelled, her come in the room, her anxious face swimming before his. Her eyes were filled with tears and he wished he could make his fingers move so he could wipe them away.
“I’m fine.”
“You are not fine,” she sobbed, touching his forehead gently. “Have you not seen yourself?”
“I don’t need to,” he said, attempting a smile. “I can feel it.”
She let out a strangled laugh, kissing his forehead carefully.
“You scared me, Vittorio. I thought you were dead.”
“It would take more than that,” he said as she ran her fingers over his cheek. “Three days?”
She nodded, wiping her eyes.
“Your physician friend is very nice. Must be nice to have one of them in your back pocket for when you are half dead.”
“I am fine,” he repeated, attempting to at least show he was gonna be okay. “Nothing that won’t heal.”
She looked at him, clearly not believing his words.
“I never want to see you like this again, Vittorio Contarini. I can’t deal with this again. I thought I lost you.”
Vittorio reached up with his good hand, brushing her hair from her face. “I’m fucking sorry I couldn’t protect you.”
Though Marcello had reached them in time, Sharon had still suffered at the hands of Rocco. Vittorio was glad the bastard was dead, or he would have killed him himself.
She gave a little laugh, touching his hand with her own.
“Do you remember throwing yourself on top of me? Even though you were hurting so badly, you still attempted to shield me from the gunfire. I… there are no words, Vittorio.”
He hadn’t remembered, but he was glad that his last-ditch effort that day was to protect her.
“Just doing my fucking job, ma’am!”
Chapter 20
Sharon
He was alive.
Sharon pressed a kiss inside of his palm and held it to her face, finding it hard to believe that Vittorio had survived the beating, a bullet in his leg, and broken bones. He was acting like it wasn’t a big deal, but he didn’t remember the way she had seen him, with blood all over him and barely breathing. He didn’t know she had cried all the way to the physician’s home, holding his hand and begging him not to leave her. He hadn’t seen her sit in the chair beside his bed, praying that he would recover and open his eyes, when everyone had thought the worst about his recovery.
But, now, none of that mattered. Vittorio was awake and though a little worse for wear right now. He would recover.
“I’m sorry,” she forced out, willing her tears to stay at bay for now. “It was all my fault.”
Vittorio shook his head, causing pain to etch across his face.
“Fuck no it wasn’t. I caused this all to fall down on my head. I taunted him, Sharon, until he’d had enough and came after me, not you. If anyone is to blame, it’s me.”
She rubbed his hand between hers, her eyes drifting to the cast that was on the other hand. The doctor had said it would be a month or so before they truly knew the damage to Vittorio’s wrist. His ribs would heal, as well as the bullet hole in his left calf. By the looks of things, his concussion hadn’t caused any lasting effects.
The bruises and cuts would heal.
“Quit looking at me like I’m fucking broken in half.”
Her eyes drifted back to his and she could see the anger starting to build.
“You are broken in half my love. You nearly died, Vittorio.”
His jaw clenched, and he looked away.
“I feel so fucking helpless right now. Every fucking spot on my body hurts like hell.”
Sharon smiled. Her patient was beginning to become a cranky one.
“Give yourself a few more days and then maybe we can leave the bed. You need rest, Vittorio.”
“I need to bury myself in you, Sharon.”
She laughed, unable to help herself and pressed a hand lightly on his chest.
“Soon.”
He gave her a look, clearly not happy that he couldn’t do it at this moment.
“Marcello said you stayed.”
Sharon nodded.
“I told you I would. I’m not going anywhere.”
He cleared his throat.
“I dreamed about you, you know, every night that you were gone. I… fuck, I didn’t want to leave them because that meant I would wake up fucking alone, and I was fucking scared I would never see you again.”
Tears clogged her throat.
“I’m sorry. I should have never left, Vittorio.”
He made a sound.
“It don’t matter anymore, but I wanted you to know I never gave up. I was going to find you and, until Rocco stuck his nose in your business, I was going to leave you alone if you were happy. It was selfish of me to keep you in that penthouse like that, Sharon. I forced you to do everything I wanted, and I shouldn’t have.”
Sharon was floored. Had he hit his head harder than they thought? This wasn’t her tough, brutal mob boss. This man was… well, just a man confessing to the woman he loved.
Reaching over, she pressed her lips carefully to his.
“I don’t care. I want to be with you, until we leave this earth and I hope it’s a long time from now. I love you and all that you are, Vittorio. I’m not going anywhere, no matter how scary you get.”
“Shit,” he mumbled against her lips. “What did I do right in my life to deserve you?”
A smile crossed her lips.
“I don’t know but I am glad you did it.”
Vittorio laughed then groaned as Sharon straightened, pressing her lips against his good hand.
“You need to rest.”
“I’m tired of fucking resting.”
She shook her head, blowing a kiss to him as she crossed the room.
“I will come check on you in a bit.”
He didn’t say anything as she exited the room, pulling the door shut behind her.
Marcello was waiting in the hallway.
“How is he?”
Tears sprang to her eyes as she looked at Vittorio’s best friend, a sob escaping her throat before he pulled her into a hug, something they had done quite often over the last three, horrible days.
He was going to make it. All her prayers, her tears, had worked.
She wasn’t going to lose him.
Chapter 21
Vittorio
He was fucking nervous.
Vittorio led Sharon up the stairs, his heart pounding in his ears as they climbed higher. He had faced down mafia hits, men that wanted to see him dead, and a few close calls with the police, but none of that had made him nervous.
But tonight…? Tonight he was nervous.
“Where are we going?” she asked, her heels hitting the metal steps as they walked upward. “I thought we were going to dinner.”
“We are,” he said, gripping her hand tightly as they reached the landing. “I just didn’t say where.”
“What?” she asked as he threw open the door and led her out onto the rooftop.
It was the perfect spot, recommended by Marcello of all people. He had finally warmed up to Sharon being in Vittorio’s life, though he drew the line at her attempting to set him up.
Vittorio felt sorry for his friend, he really did.
“Oh!”
Vittorio turned and watched as Sharon took in the sight, her face softening.
“It’s a rooftop garden.”
“It is,” he said, pulling her farther into the green space, satisfied with the candlelight and overwhelming smell of roses. The night was perfect, not a cloud in the sky, the city below them. In the center of the garden was a small table for two, with a pair of champagne glasses and a bottle in the chiller next to it.
“It’s lovely,” she breathed, coming to stand next to him. “Really, Vittorio, I’ve never seen anything more beautiful, thank you.”
Vittorio turned to her, taking in her short red dress and fuck-me heels that he knew she wore for him and him only. The best part was the lacy underthings he knew would be under the dress, the same ones he had watched her put on two hours before in the comfort of their bedroom.
But it wasn’t the same bedroom they had slept in two months ago. No, he had sold the fucking penthouse where the shootout happened and let Sharon help him pick them a new home. She had been hesitant at first, but he had pestered her enough, to the point where she had finally made up her mind. It wasn’t as big as his last one, but he knew she was happy and that was all that mattered.
And now he hoped she would still be happy after tonight.
“What?” she asked, searching his eyes with hers. “What is it?”
He gripped her hands in his, ignoring the twinge of pain in his wrist as he did so. The cast was gone and he had moderate use of his hand, a constant reminder of how close he had been to losing his life and her. His body had healed but the nightm
ares remained for the both of them.
“I have something I want to talk to you about.”