I still don't know if those men had been after me, or the ring. But I'd better not take any chances.
Time and meeting place set up, I swing by a shop to get changed and to look more put together.
Afterwards, the exchange is swift. The moment I see the amount promised deposited in my bank account, I hand over the ring and we part on nice pleasantries. The buyer had wanted to remain anonymous, and so he'd send over his personal assistant instead.
While I'd been curious about the man who'd so easily splurge six million on a mere ring, a deep, unknown anxiety makes me absentmindedly gloss over the trade, my thoughts going back to Allegra. And when we're talking six million, my mind shouldn't be anywhere but here.
Even after I leave, I still feel a nagging feeling of... something.
Visions of her being taken advantage of, or lying dead in a ditch plague me the whole car ride. Her innocent eyes wide open, her lifeless body in a pool of blood...
"Fuck this!" I mutter, shaking my head. With a quick command, I ask my driver to turn the car around and head back to the ferry terminal.
I'm just going to make sure she boarded the ferry, and then I'll be able to go about my merry way. It's simply irrational, this fear I'm feeling, but no matter how much I try, I can't suppress it.
It's because she's so sheltered... so ingenue. She reminds me of my sister, Catalina. And as a big brother, I wouldn't want anything to happen to her. Not when the experience of having that guilt on my conscience is already too heavy.
Yes, that's just it. She just appeals to my brotherly instincts. She may be my little tigress, but to anyone else she's just a lamb begging to be slaughtered. That naivete of hers is like a beacon of light for every depraved soul out there... mine included.
After I've ensured that she's well on her way home, I can put the entire episode behind me and truly move on.
When we get back to the port, the entire area is empty. I scan the surroundings, but there's no trace of her.
"Damn," I curse out loud, my eyes alert for any type of movement. I walk in circles for a bit before I decide I should just go home. A noise from one barrack nearby stops me in my tracks. I crane my neck, listening for more.
The more I near the area, the more it sounds like someone's fighting. I wrench open the door just in time to see a man kick Allegra to the floor, her forehead banging with a thud against the furniture.
My gaze goes back to the men, my fists clenching by my side.
They're dead.
Stepping inside, one man charges at me, but I easily deflect the blows and send him flying with a few punches.
Easy to pick on a little girl. Not so much on someone their size.
The second man, the one who dared to put his hands on her, steps forward, and a punch comes directly for my face. I easily dodge, moving to the right, before using my foot to break his equilibrium by breaking his knee. He topples to the ground, his mouth a hard line of pain.
I don't hesitate as I kick him again, my tibia making contact with his mandible. The blow makes him reel back, blood spattering across the floor.
I move swiftly as I tug Allegra to her feet.
"Come, little tigress."
She seems slightly disoriented as she squints her eyes.
"Are you ok?" I want to ask her what happened before I came, but she doesn't seem fit for any type of questioning.
She nods, and my fingers go to her head where a red spot is forming.
"You hit your head pretty bad," I'm holding myself tight, not wanting to scare her even further by killing the men. Holding her closer to me, I try to take her into my arms.
"I'm fine. I can walk," she immediately replies, and takes a few steps just to show me that she's capable of doing it herself. I open my mouth to say something, but I shake my head.
Not now!
Taking her hand, I lead her outside.
"Where are we going?" Her voice is barely above a whisper, and I don't doubt she's in pain. With her frail fame and what she withstood the night before, it's a wonder she's even on her feet.
I look down at her, and I feel my respect for her growing. She's taken everything in stride, barely even complaining.
"To my car." I try to carry as much of her weight as she allows, her independent streak seemingly offended if she receives help.
Opening the door to the car, I move back slightly to allow her to climb in first.
She doesn't.
She stops, raising her eyes to look at me. She moves her head to the side, looking behind us, before pushing me so hard I knock into the door.
Her mouth forms an o and a bloodcurdling scream escapes her lips as she falls into my arms, a red wet spot forming on the surface of her shirt. My eyes widen, but I'm already used to these types of scenarios.
Safety first!
I take her in my arms and push myself in the backseat, quickly signaling the driver to speed off.
Her eyes are glossy, openly staring at me with barely any recognition. The vision I'd had before is suddenly manifested into reality.
"Why?" I croak, the notion that she'd taken a bullet meant for me almost unfathomable.
She doesn't answer, even the few whimpers of pain from before now muted.
I brush my hand over her already glistening forehead, and an uncomfortable weight settles in my chest. My other hand comes out covered in blood — her blood.
And I don't like it.
"Shh, I got you." I continue to apply pressure to her wound, all the while barking commands to my driver.
We need a doctor. Fast.
The bullet seems to have hit her shoulder, and there's no exit point, so it's still inside. That means I need someone to operate on her.
Fuck!
There are also those men, and if their attempts on my life so far are any indication, they won't stop. I have the option of taking her to my palazzo in Gozo, but I fear she won't make it until we reach the island. No... that's not an option.
Making a few phone calls, I get a surgeon to meet us at another port, a boat ready to go. The palazzo is the most secure location right now.
I rarely care if anyone lives or dies, but as I look at the tiny form in my arms, already pale from blood loss, I can't imagine her dying.
"You can't die on me." I command her, even though she can't hear me. But if she doesn't listen, there will be hell to pay.
I'm barely breathing, my heart in my throat as we make our way towards the other part of the island. When we finally stop, I kick open the door, and holding tight on to Allegra, I dash towards the waiting vessel.
The moment I step on board, I head directly to one room downstairs. Shoving everything off a table, I carefully lay her there.
She moans softly, and I swallow hard, almost as if I can feel her pain. But I try to banish everything from my mind. I need to act fast.
Turning around, I prepare a big bowl of water and I wet a rag, dragging it over her wound, and soaking up the blood.
"Where is the fucking surgeon?" I yell at one man waiting outside the door.
"He'll be here soon."
With one hand I keep pressure on the wound, while with the other I check her pulse.
"Little tigress, if you dare leave me, I'll find you in the afterlife and I'll torment you forever. You have my word."
Her small face, weary from pain, stares back at me, no answer forthcoming.
It feels like an eternity passes before the doctor finally shows up and the boat is up and running. He asks me to step aside and starts assessing his patient.
"I need to remove the bullet. It seems to be lodged inside," he comments methodically, his eyes surveying Allegra's frail body. "She's small. Probably severely underweight."
"Is that going to be an issue?"
"Depends. It might slow down her recovery. If her body survives."
"What do you mean if? If you want to leave with your life, I suggest you make sure she survives." I raise an eyebrow at him, already loading the gun in my hand. T
he doctor gulps down and slowly nods.
Turning his attention towards Allegra, he administers an anesthetic. Then, he takes out a pair of scissors from his case and starts cutting at her shirt.
I tense, and before I know it, my fingers wrap themselves around his hand, stopping his advance.
"She stays clothed."
"But..." He starts to argue, but I'm not having it. I know for a fact he doesn't need to bare her entire torso to do this surgery. Her shoulder area is enough.
"She stays clothed." I say again, this time more forcefully. He quickly nods and works on her shoulder. He disinfects the area before using a scalpel and cutting into her flesh.
I'm highly attentive, following his every move.
"The bullet is lodged into the scapula," he says at some point, using the tip of the scalpel to dig the bullet out. "It's made a mess of her muscle. I'll need to fix it," he continues, and he seems to expect me to step aside.
"Go ahead." Rooted to the spot, I continue to watch carefully everything he does. He works on connecting back the tissue before finally closing her wound.
"I'm done with the wound, but she's lost too much blood. You need to take her to a hospital. She needs a blood transfusion."
My brows furrow in consternation.
"Can't you do it here?" I ask, looking at his medical kit.
"I don't have any blood with me."
"Use mine," I answer immediately, holding my arm out for him.
"W-what?" he sputters, his eyes bulging in his head. "It's not done! I need to know her blood type first, and you'd need a blood test..." he continues to ramble, looking at me like an idiot who doesn't understand science.
"We're both O negative. It's fine." I'd found that tidbit of information at the hospital, and now I'm glad for it since it might just save her life.
"But..." he continues, and my patience is running out. One glance at Allegra's almost lifeless body has me feral in my answer.
"I'm clean. See, no problem. Now do it!" He must understand the unspoken threat, because he rummages through his kit, removing a tube and customizing it so it's double sided. He quickly makes some adjustments before sticking a needle in her arm and then doing the same to me. He fumbles with the controller until I see the blood slowly leaving me, traveling down the tube and into her body.
The intimacy of the act astounds me, a primal instinct awakening inside of me as I watch her accepting my blood, thereby becoming one.
Mine.
THE BOAT MOORS IN THE port at Gozo. The doctor gives me a list of drugs to administer to her, including antibiotics.
I'm very careful as I move her to the car that takes us to the palazzo. The whole ride I keep on monitoring her pulse, alert to every move, and every sound she makes.
She will not die.
There's only a few hired staff at the palazzo, and they spend their time there year round, keeping the estate clean and running.
When we reach the gates, I take Allegra in my arms and go to the main suite where a master bedroom stretches over one thousand square feet. There's a king sized bed in the middle of the room, and I slowly lower her over the duvet.
The doctor told me to expect fever, chills and even delirium. I'm not exactly psyched for any of those, but I'll make sure she's warm and comfortable in the bed.
I force myself to leave her side for a moment, and I call in soldiers to guard the estate. Then, I gather the staff and give them their tasks. I ask one woman to go shop for a variety of clothes for Allegra, and then I entrust the cook with a long list of liquid foods that Allegra will be able to ingest.
When I've given everyone in the house something to do, I head back to the bedroom. Checking up again on Allegra, I'm happy to see she's not running a fever. Grateful for a moment of peace, I head to the shower to wash off the blood off my body.
As the water clings to my skin, I can't help but replay the events of the day.
Such a close call...
She could have died. That little idiot could have died, and for what? To save me? I almost laugh at the absurdity of the situation, even though for some reason it feels good.
I don't think I've ever had anyone do that for me unconditionally. Sure, my father's soldiers would protect me with their lives, but only because I'm the Agosti heir, and by extension their boss. It's nothing more than tradition and a disparity of power. They would never do the same for a stranger.
She did.
Not only for a stranger, but for someone she doesn't even like. I'm, again, stunned to admit that for the first time in my life, a woman's earned my respect.
I turn off the water and wrap a towel around my waist. Going back to the room, I pull a chair next to the bed and sit down.
As I watch her form, valiantly struggling between life and death, I'm suddenly struck by a thought.
She's exactly what I need by my side. She's incredibly brave; she sticks to her principles even in the face of death; and she's smart and selfless.
My eyes go back to her face. She's definitely not bad to look at.
And most importantly, she's someone I could trust.
It doesn't take me long to become fully convinced that she's got all the attributes to be the perfect wife — my perfect wife specifically.
Because there's no way I'm letting her go. Not after everything we've been through.
She's got my blood pumping through her veins now, so I'm keeping her.
Now, convincing her of that will not go as smoothly, a fact that I'm painfully aware of. Not when she clearly hates me. I'll just have to make it so she has no other choice but me.
Deep in her slumber, she makes a tiny noise, her mouth opening slightly.
Yes, she's mine. Only ever mine.
"YOU MEAN THEY WERE trying to stop the wedding by any means," I add drily. One of my men in New York had just informed me that the moment rumors had started that Agosti and Guerra would unite their families through marriage, DeVille, Guerra's sworn enemy, hadn't taken the news well. Not that anyone thought they would, since they've always sought to isolate the Guerras. But for them to attempt to kill me just to ensure the union would not take place? Quite drastic, even for them.
While I certainly don't appreciate people trying to kill me, they crossed a line when they injured my property.
Well, my property as of now.
"Get a decoy to pretend I'm leaving for New York. Commercial. And keep me updated." I hang up just in time to see a maid bring in a tray of food.
"I've got it." I motion her to leave.
Almost two days since the attack and Allegra's only woken a few times. Each time, she'd mumble something, and then promptly go back to sleep. She hasn't gotten a fever yet, the only good thing.
Going around the bed, I pick up the bowl of soup and I take a small spoonful to make sure it's not too hot. When I'm satisfied with the temperature of the soup, I help Allegra into a sitting position and I try to pry her lips open to get some liquid into her.
The doctor had commented on her weight and that if she doesn't receive enough nutrients it might be hard on her body and it would slow down her recovery. I'd started with some water, and she'd held that down, so soup seems like a reasonable next step.
The spoon barely makes it past her lips, and some liquid trickles down her chin. Using a napkin, I wipe it carefully, and her eyes open slightly. A small groan escapes her, but she doesn't move.
I feed her another spoonful, and the same thing happens. It's like she's purposefully trying to make a mess. I decide to play her game, especially when I see the small fluttering of her eyes under her lids.
I wipe her chin and give her more soup. This time I'm not surprised when it ends up more on her face than in her mouth. I don't stop. Another spoonful, and even more soup is dribbling down her chin.
Drawing back a little, I watch as she tries very hard to pretend she's asleep. So I call her bluff. I put the bowl back on the tray and leaning in; I capture the droplets of soup dripping down her chin with my t
ongue. I close my lips over the skin right under her lips, sucking in the liquid.
She gasps and tries to get away, wincing when her shoulder pains her.
I move back just a little to find her staring at me, her eyes holding the same fire from before.
I should have known that no gunshot wound would take out that spark from her. My lips stretch into a languid smile.
"What do you think you're doing?" She asks through gritted teeth and even sapped of her strength she plans on fighting me.
"What does it look like?" I lift my hand to caress her cheek. She tries to push me away, but her condition doesn't allow her much movement.
She's caught.
"You're hurt. Don't strain yourself." There's so much animosity in those eyes of hers, it's like she's challenging me to keep pushing her buttons.
And I can never pass a good challenge.
"Defenseless... you can't even hit me," I drawl, and she jerks her body back, grimacing.
"Be a good girl and don't struggle," I say right before I dip my head lower, my mouth hovering on top of hers.
"I'll bite," she whispers, probably hoping it would deter me.
"Maybe I'm hoping you would." I reply with a smirk, taunting her with the ghost of a pressure on her lips before I suddenly stand up.
"I'm glad you're doing better. Now you can feed yourself. I would have hated to have to nurse you back to health."
"And whose fault is this, asshole?" She retorts, more vigor in her voice than before. She points at her bandaged shoulder, and I just shrug.
"Did I ask you to get shot?"
Well done, Enzo. You're supposed to butter her up to marry you, not antagonize her further.
"You could have at least said thank you," she mutters under her breath, swinging her feet over the bed and positioning herself towards the bedside table. Using her good hand, she starts eating the soup.
"Easy." I say when I see the speed she's eating at.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Did you want me to stare at it?" She rolls her eyes at me before continuing to eat.
Morally Decadent (Morally Questionable Book 3) Page 8