Page 36 of Ruthless Sinner

It’s a battle of wills, and my father thinks he’s won, but I won’t give up until I’m six feet under. I refuse to be bound in unholy matrimony with Lucrezia. But if marriage is what my father wants, marriage is what he’ll get, but it’ll be on my terms, not his.

Chapter 38

Adalina

Silas Stone is the epitome of kindness. His gentle nature radiates from within, reflected in his warm demeanor and tender touch.

Or maybe that’s the drugs talking.

“Take these,” he ordered when he came into the room. He introduced himself with a formal nod and extended his hand, presenting me with a small plastic cup containing an array of brightly colored pills. “A couple are for the pain, one is for inflammation, and the yellow ones are for anxiety.” Silas provided me with a cup of water, too.

“I don’t have anxiety.” But I took the meds anyway.

Now I feel like I’m floating on a cloud made of lasagna. Silas casts my wrist, and his lips move silently as he gives me instructions on how to care for it properly, but I can’t make out what he’s saying. “Something smells like tomato sauce,” I whisper, but somehow it comes out in a yell.

The doctor’s face lights up with a smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “It’s probably one of the men. Lord knows when the going gets tough, the men start cooking.”

I nod slowly because I can’t move my head any faster. “Do you think they’ll let me have some food?”

“Of course,” Silas replies with a laugh. “Why wouldn’t they?”

“Because Dante is holding me hostage.” If I thought Silas would be the one to save me, I was wrong.

Instead, he finishes the careful wrapping of my wrist and gently turns his attention to the jagged cut on my throat. His fingers glide over the tender skin, inspecting it with a critical eye. I wince as he prods at the wound, but his touch is surprisingly gentle. The scent of antiseptic fills the room, mingling with the metallic tang of blood as he cleans and stitches the injury, but his steady hands and soothing voice calm my nerves. “They’ve been allowing you to eat thus far, right?”

I frown. Am I supposed to be honest with this man? He’s a doctor, after all. “Dante’s been feeding me by hand.” Yes, honesty is the best policy.

“Then I’m sure if you really want whatever they’re cooking downstairs, Dante will get you some.”

“Yes,” I begin to nod, reassured by his words.

“Don’t move,” he chastises. “Stitching is delicate work.”

I reply by turning to stone, not daring to move an inch. I am a brick wall. I am concrete. I am an immovable force. “Jesus!” A sharp sting of pain jolts through me, causing me to recoil. My eyes dart to Silas’ hand, and I see a glint of metal—a syringe.

He is unexpectedly patient with me. “It’s to numb the area so I can stitch it up. You’d probably be fine with a few butterfly bandaids, but I don’t want to take the risk.” Silas taps the area on my throat where the cut is, and all I feel is a slight pressure. “You’ve been through a lot tonight, Adalina. How are you feeling?” Then, he begins the process of sewing my skin back together.

“I expected it,” I tell him honestly. “Dante won’t listen to me about my father. He’s a hothead, and he doesn’t think things through.”

Silas makes a sound of agreement. “Who’s the hothead? Dante or your father?”

“My father.” I don’t think Dante is anything like my father. He’s had ample opportunity to hurt me, and he never has. “Is that love?” I ask aloud, following my train of thought.

The doctor pauses mid-stitch to meet my gaze, his eyes betraying his curiosity. “Is what love?”

“Not hurting me when he had the chance to,” I explain.

“Fathers should never hurt their children.”

I realize that Silas and I are not on the same wavelength. I’m talking about Dante, and he’s still stuck on Tommaso. “No, not that. I know my father doesn’t love me.” As the words leave my mouth, a tight knot forms in my chest. It’s a recognition that cuts deep, and I can’t understand why it still hurts after all these years. My father’s contempt for me has been a constant in my life, but it stings to tell the doctor about it.

Silas goes back to work. “Then who are you talking about?”

“Dante,” I explain. “All this time, he could have hurt me, but he didn’t. He clothed me, bathed me, fed me.” Oh, my god. I have daddy issues. I let Dante step into the role of taking care of me, something my father should have done but never wanted to. “I’m so fucked up.”

A gentle curve graces the doctor’s lips, a hint of amusement glinting in his eyes as he finishes stitching my wound. “I’m not sure what’s going on in your head, Adalina, but I can assure you that Dante Terlizzi is a good guy. Whatever else he is,” Silas shrugs dismissively, “he always protects those he cares about. Is it love? I don’t know. But you wouldn’t be here right now, being treated by me, if Dante didn’t care about you. You said you’re a hostage, but I’ve never seen a hostage better taken care of than you. Excluding the cuts, bruises, and breaks,” he grins.

He cares for me. Dante Terlizzi actually cares for me. What a strange concept.

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