Page 94 of Bellini Bound
The formal greeting had the hairs on the back of my neck rising. Something was wrong.
“Mm-hmm.” Enzo nodded. “I understand.” Tension lined his face, and all his muscles were coiled tight like he was ready for a fight.
Being privy to only one half of the conversation was driving me insane. I wanted to know who he was talking to and what the hell was going on.
“I’ll be there right away.” Disconnecting the call, he shoved his phone into his pocket.
The man had such long legs that he made it halfway out of the kitchen before I managed to ask, “Where are you going? What’s wrong?”
Pausing, Enzo turned around. “That was the school. Bianca spiked a fever, and they need someone to come pick her up.”
Okay, not ideal, but nowhere close to the worst-case scenarios I’d begun to conjure up in my mind.
I wiped my hands off on a towel. “I’ll go.”
“Are you sure?”
Nodding, I said, “We each have our strengths, and taking care of sick people is one of mine.”
A war played out behind his eyes. The man was hard-wired to protect his family, and it was difficult for him to hand over control during what his mind categorized as a crisis. But eventually, he caved, recognizing that, of the two of us, I was better suited to handle the situation of an ill child.
He sighed so heavily it shook his massive frame. “Should I call the doc?”
“Let me get a read on her first. Fevers are pretty common in young kids while their immune system is still developing. Odds are it’s nothing serious and will pass in twenty-four hours or so.”
Enzo swallowed thickly, his voice coming out rough. “I really hope you’re right.”
The guy didn’t bat an eyelash at being shot—or having a bullet dug out of his arm—but he was visibly struggling when it came to a simple fever? It made me wonder if there was more to this story, but there wasn’t time to dig into that now. Not with a sick little girl waiting on me.
“You think you can handle snack time while I’m gone?” I gestured to the abandoned cutting board.
He still looked a little shaken but managed to dip his chin. “Yeah.”
On my way out of the room, I tossed over my shoulder, “Don’t let Uncle Enzo eat all the strawberries, little mouse.”
Serafina’s tiny voice shouted sternly from behind me, “My staw-beddies, E-zo!”
A chuckle sounded from my husband. “But they’re my favorite! Can’t I have just a few?”
“No! Mine!” the toddler cried.
I breathed out a sigh of relief, hopeful that Serafina’s antics would keep Enzo occupied enough that he might not develop an ulcer from stress before I got back with Bianca.
Who knew a sick child would turn out to be the mafia man’s kryptonite?
After having Emilio stop off at a pharmacy to buy a children’s pain reliever/fever reducer, we arrived at the private preschool Bianca attended, and I went through the required steps to check her out early. The office staff gave me the standard spiel about not allowing her to return until she was fever-free for at least twenty-four hours. I nodded in acknowledgment, biting my tongue to keep from telling them I already knew the rules from my work in healthcare.
An interior door to the office opened, and Bianca trudged in, accompanied by her teacher. My heart just about broke at the sight of her—eyes dazed and glassy, cheeks flushed, dark hair matted to sweaty temples.
I dropped to my knees before her. “Hey, B. What’s going on?”
Her little face scrunched up in pain, and she whimpered, “My throat hurts, Aunt Allie.”
“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry.” I pulled her tight to my chest. “Let’s go home, and I’ll give you some medicine that will help.”
Hauling her into my arms, I carried her to the car, buckled her in, and we were on our way. The drive to the house was thankfully short—less than ten minutes—so it wasn’t long before I had her tucked into bed and was doing a quick examination.
Palpating gently over the swollen lymph nodes along her neck, I asked, “Can you open your mouth for me, honey? I just wanna take a quick peek.”
