Page 66 of Seduced By the Enemy

“I know.” Dante’s voice was thick with anguish. “We messed up, Salvatore. I don’t know how we can ever, ever fix that. I don’t know how you could ever bring yourself to forgive us. Let alone Emilia. From the moment she got here, we saw…saw what you were to each other. I’m so sorry.”

Salvatore hadn’t cried in his entire life, that he could remember. Perhaps as a child, when he’d fallen and hurt himself badly. But damn it if he didn’t feel his eyes stinging then. The futility of it all, the ruination that had been wrought, because they’d held to their ancient prejudice. And yet, through all of that bitterness and anger, he clung to the apology—and the meaning beyond it.

“I don’t know if you can fix it either, but if you’re willing to try, I can tell you one thing you can do.”

“Name it. Anything.”

Salvatore fixed his brother with a direct stare. “Bring her back to me. Bring her here just as soon as you can. My God, I need to see her, more than I can ever come close to explaining.”

18

IT WAS BOTH A WEAKNESS and inevitability that Emilia relented and allowed Dante and Georgia to take her back to the hospital. At least she’d had a chance to sleep and shower, and dressed in a fresh outfit—a pale linen dress that fell to her ankles. She’d swept her hair into a loose bun, and even applied a layer of lip gloss. But all that had been in preparation for her flight home. Not this.

And yet, when Dante and Georgia had shown up at her hotel and begged her to come and see Salvatore before she’d left, she heard herself agreeing. In truth, she wanted to see him awake and conscious, to convince herself, once and for all, that he really was going to be okay.

The car trip to the hospital was silent, besides a few polite enquiries the Australian Georgia made, in an effort to ease any awkwardness. Emilia found she couldn’t bring herself to answer more than a single word. Not because she bore the other woman any ill will, but because she was far too much ‘in her head’ about what she was about to see and do.

Once at the hospital, they walked through the familiar corridors, towards his private room, and Emilia caught aglimpse of the other Santoro family members, in one of the lounge rooms. She didn’t say anything, beyond a small nod of acknowledgement.

It was only at the door to Salvatore’s room that she hesitated, turning to Dante and Georgia, who hovered a few feet back. “You’re not coming?”

Dante shook his head. “You’re the one he wants to see.”

Her stomach fluttered with butterflies, but she forced herself to be brave, twisting the doorknob and pushing it inwards. The image he made was chalk and cheese to how he’d been the other day. For one thing, the ghastly tubes had been removed, and he was now dressed, sitting up in the bed. But he was still far, far too slim, his face gaunt, his jaw covered in too much stubble. While she was worried about him, and the way he looked, she couldn’t help but recognize that if anything, it only made the beauty of his features more obvious—the depth of his eyes, the strength of his brows. She fidgeted her hands as she crossed the room slowly towards him, but hovered a little distance from the bed. Out of touching range, so she wouldn’t accidentally forget that he no longer loved her, or belonged to her in any way, and reach for him.

“Thank you for coming.” His voice was raspy and a little slow. Uncertain? She swallowed past a lump in her throat, hating how emotional she felt. Then again, it was only a matter of days ago that she’d thought he might not survive—or if he did, know what condition he’d be in.

“I needed to know,” she finally managed to say, unable to look away from his face. She saw the way his throat shifted as he swallowed, as though it physically pained him. She understood; her throat hurt too, but from the acid of tears rather than the grazing of a tube.

“To know what?”

She hesitated. “That you were okay.”

He nodded slowly. “The thing is, I don’t think I am.”

She glanced from him to the monitors, then started moving towards the doors. “I’ll get a doctor.”

“No, Emilia, that’s not what I meant.” His voice was firmer now, more like normal. So much so that she stopped walking and turned to face him. Her heart almost leaped out of her chest.

“Salvatore,” she whispered his name, but it was a plea. A desperate plea to let her go, because being here with him under these circumstances was an agony. She felt herself withering inside; it was excruciating. “Please…I can’t…”

He closed his eyes then, those thick, dark lashes fluttering down over his cheek bones so everything ached.

“Just tell me this.” His words rasped once more. “Are you okay?”

She bit into her lip. “How do you expect me to answer that?”

He opened his eyes and stared at her. No, stared through her, deep inside her soul, to every twisty, turning pain and hurt. “With a yes, or a no.” Again, his throat shifted visibly as he swallowed. “If you’re really okay—if you’re fine—then just tell me. As much as I miss you—miss you so much I truly cannot bear it—I’ll be okay. Just knowing you’re okay. But either way, please tell me. Please, I have to know.”

The desperation in his voice was what sold her, yet she stayed standing where she was for a long time, her mind and heart in conflict, her brain torn between what she wanted to say and what she knew was right to tell him. In the end, the truth won out. They’d been through too much to lie. Besides, for all he’d fallen out of love with her, having been through this trauma in the last few days, she couldn’t bear the fact of anything happening to him and his not knowing how deeply she still loved him—and always would. If ever there was a moment for absolutely honesty, this was it.

“No.”

Silence crackled between them, static and powerful.

“No?” he finally responded.

She held one hand out, palm up to the ceiling. “I mean, what do you think?” She tried to keep her voice calm. He’d been through so much. She didn’t want to stress him, or do anything that might put him at risk. But how the hell could she respond? How could she adequately explain? “You broke my heart, Salvatore.” Her voice cracked, despite her best efforts to keep a level head. “You broke my fucking heart. You tore it right out of my chest, you know? I loved you. I chose you. I chose you over everyone else I knew and loved. I chose you, our future, the life I thought we would live together. And you just…you just ended it. You actually told me monogamy wasn’t for you, so I’ve had to live, for the last however many weeks, with the idea of you sleeping with god knows how many other women, just like you used to.” She wasn’t even aware of the tears that were slipping down her cheeks. “You promised me the world, and then changed your mind. I mean…how do you think I am?”

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