Page 23 of Sinner's Vows

I don’t spot Matteo’s car. He’s five minutes away when I check in, so I don’t wait for him and head into the clinic alone. When the nurse tells me Carla is having a shower, I hand her one bunch of flowers and continue to Ariana’s room. Our stationed bodyguard, Marco, acknowledges me as I lean into the door, not wanting to barge in.

Ariana is sitting up in bed, still on a drip, and looking better than yesterday. Not that it would take much. Without the layers of makeup and mascara she quietly cried away and rubbed over my clothes on the way here, the dark circles under her eyes are too prominent. So is the rest of her, mere skin and bones. My heart seems to stall before it hits the right gear again.

Our gazes meet, and it strikes me we can’t be related at all. Never mind my unnatural reaction to a woman who could bemy sister—nobody in our family has those sky-blue eyes, or such blond hair. We’d have seen some of that pop up somewhere. The DNA tests in my pocket seem superfluous now, but we’re here to investigate and deal with the consequences. We might have a little sister somewhere in the world who is alive, and she can’t be well. Not if she’s stuck in Franco Fiore’s or Randazzo’s world, the world this woman hails from. We’ll need to fix that as soon as possible.

I walk into the room, flowers in hand and suddenly feeling like an idiot.

“These are for you.” I hold the yellow roses out to her.

Ariana bites her lip in an attempt to hide a smile, but her eyes light up just enough to reassure me. She hasn’t checked out yet, not in that way. She might be a lot of things, but she’s also just a woman, with a bullet wound in her stomach and cuts on her skin. I’ll do anything to make the pain go away, hers and any woman’s, so I relax despite the anger at everything she must have gone through. I hardly know anything.

She takes the bouquet in both hands and drops her nose into the rose petals’ fragile folds. Quiet tears run down her cheeks and disappear into the buds.

Fuck. Those tears undo me.

“Ariana—” I start but break off, not knowing what to say.

“Thank you.” She wipes at her face. “You’re so—Theseare so…unexpected.”

Well, that goes both ways.

“My brother’s going to be here soon.”

The nurse walks in with a glass flower vase she sourced from who knows where. Probably from Portia, who lives next door and used to be the Don’s housekeeper. The nurse is probably related to her because that’s how we roll. Portia’s retired now, but at the current rate, I might have to call her back into service,what with Ariana and the bomb Franco dropped yesterday. Someone must know something about Gabriella.

Ariana hands the flowers to the nurse with a softthank youand clamps her hands together in her lap.

I wait for the nurse to leave then close the door behind her.Il Consiglioworks on a need-to-know basis, and even though our hiring policies are incestuous, and the clinic’s staff has been put through their paces when it comes to security, this matter is more personal than our usual fare.

“How’re you feeling today?” I’ve already gone over the doctor’s report from his visit early this morning. Physically, she’s going to be fine. Mentally is another story.

“I’m better,” she says softly, her gaze shy to meet mine.

Must she be so fucking submissive?It does nothing for this building need in me to take care of her.

“You know we have questions.” I walk around the bed to place the DNA tests on the nightstand. I’ve sourced five tests, one for each brother to compare a DNA sample with Ariana’s, and now that I look at them, they’re extra, but I wasn’t thinking clearly yesterday.

She doesn’t say anything, and when I look at her again, there’s a pull to her beautiful mouth that spells out everything to me. This one is going to give me a hard fucking time.

There’s a knock on the door, and when Matteo swings it open, I shove my hands into my pockets, watching him as he walks inside.

Jesus Christ. Yesterday was rough, but by the look of it, he hasn’t slept at all. The dark circles under his eyes match Ariana’s, but there’s a haunted look in his gaze which hints to more than exhaustion.

Despite the evidence of a sleepless night, he is dressed impeccably and makes quick work of the few steps to the bed.

“Matteo Scalera,” he says in greeting, his eyes drinking in her face and without a doubt coming to the same conclusion as me. “Welcome to Boston.”

There’s a hesitant moment when he looks as if he’d shake her hand, but she wrings her hands in her lap and then folds her arms over her chest, protective.

“Thank you.” Her gaze volleys between the two of us before dropping back to her lap.

I hold back a huff. This is the last thing she needs—men like us hovering over her hospital bed. None of us have tattoos up to the jaw and down to the wazoo and wherever else, but like this, flanking her bed, we’d be intimidating. We are. She already looks like a fawn curled up in hiding between the sheets, us wolves on the prowl.

Matteo rolls on his heels, and when he meets my gaze across the bed, my heart sinks. If she isn’t going to talk, he’s going to make me make her, because that isn’t his game—it’s mine.

I pull the chair closer and sit down, my hand resting on the edge of the bed, wanting to reach for hers and indicate it’s okay. It’s all going to be okay because I’ll protect her.

“Ariana,” I start. “I’ve DNA tests here. We’ll begin with those, and then?—”

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