Page 10 of Broken Mafia Bride
Before he can say more, there’s a brisk knock on the door, and a moment later, a woman pokes her head in through the cracked door.
“Marco, are you telling her about your conspiracy theories?” she sighs. “You’re scaring her.”
“Ariel, meet Sienna. Sienna, Ariel.” Marco does a quick introduction as the red-haired woman walks in.
She’s beautiful in a fun kind of way that puts me at ease for some reason. Her corkscrew coils and colorful clothing add a much-needed dash of color to the otherwise drab room.
“Ariel? Like the cartoon?” Sienna’s eyebrows fly up to her hairline.
My mouth quirks up the slightest inch. “It’s a nickname from yours truly. Since I don’t remember mine.”
“Nicknames already, ohh. I think I like Ariel.” Her smile is wide. “Anyway, I’m the doctor who took care of you and a good friend of Mr. Detective here. Did he tell you I was coming? I bet he didn’t. Men are something else, honestly.”
When she winks at me, I find myself smiling.
“I’m just going to go over there,” Marco grumbles, crossing the room to lean against the corner, muscled arms crossed over his chest. I take my time to drag my gaze over his tall frame, noting for the first time how good-looking he is.
“Like what you see?” Sienna asks slyly.
I turn back to her, heat rising in my face. “Uh, I-I mean, I?—”
“I’m teasing you, I promise.”
“I don’t mean to offend you,” I say cautiously. “But are there no hospitals around?” I pause and swallow hard. “He told me he has first aid experience, but wouldn’t a hospital have been safer for me?”
She glances over her shoulder at him before meeting my gaze. Her eyes are soft yet steady. “Actually, that was partly my fault,” she admits. “The wound on your side is a gunshot wound. Judging by the angle, there’s no way it could’ve been self-inflicted, like a suicide attempt.”
“What?” My voice cracks. Shock ripples through me as my mind reels.
“That means someone shot you,” Marco grumbles from the corner. His tone is rough and sullen, like he’s upset just saying it aloud.
Sienna turns and shoots him a scowl. He shrugs and looks petulant, almost childlike in his defiance. Then she faces me again and offers a faint, tender smile that feels like a lifeline.
“He thinks whoever pushed you into the lake is still out there, searching for you. He’s being a little paranoid, sure, but it’s better to be cautious when we don’t know the whole story.”
I must look as lost as I feel because she quickly adds, “But this could all be speculation, like I said. You don’t have to worry. You’re completely safe here.” Her voice is warm and reassuring, like she’s trying to wrap me in comfort.
“Sure,” I reply softly. I want to believe her despite the storm of emotions swirling inside me.
“Truth is, Marco would be devastated if you got hurt by some bad guys,” she says brightly. Her eyes flicker with affection. “He may not show it, but he’s been so worried about you.” Her words sink into me and stir something tender and unexpected.
I glance at him and catch the way he avoids my gaze. His eyes dart everywhere but at me. A faint warmth blossoms in my heart. This stranger, who barely knows me, cares enough to worry. The thought wraps around me like a quiet hug and eases the ache of my confusion.
Before I can ask more questions, she’s already rummaging through a bag I hadn’t noticed earlier. “I hope you’re not upset with me,” she says. Her tone is apologetic. “But I had to draw some blood while you were unconscious. I did a thorough blood workup to make sure I didn’t miss anything.”
My heart trips over in my chest, still processing everything, and I clear my throat. “It’s fine.”
“How do you feel right now? On a scale of one to ten, how bad does your head hurt?” Sienna asks.
“Seven. Or maybe I should say six. That tea was great,” I tell her.
The doctor peeks up at me. “Is that Marco’s special brew? He’s been hiding that recipe from me for years. I can’t believe he really popped it out now.” She raises her voice to make sure Marco can hear from where he’s standing. “Do I hear wedding bells?”
I catch Marco rolling his eyes at her antics, and a smile curves my mouth.
“So I’m going to leave medication for your headache,” Sienna tells me. “I’ll also leave antibiotics for your wound. If you start running a fever, I’ll be here in a jiffy. You have a mild concussion, but all you need to do about that is rest. I’ll let Marco know what to look out for, so you just rest, okay? You’ve been through a horrible ordeal, so you need to recover.”
She begins to stand up. “Oh, and I don’t know whether you remember or not, but congratulations.”
