Page 97 of Bellini Bound
“Fuck,” I cursed under my breath. “I’m headed to check the surveillance tapes, and so help me God, Emilio, if she’s not here, you’re a dead man.”
There was an audible swallow through the speaker. “Yes, sir.”
Ending the call, I all-out sprinted toward my office. My computer was the only one with access to the feed from the mansion’s interior cameras. I’d barely cleared the threshold when I heard a pained whimper and stopped dead in my tracks.
“Allie, honey? Are you in here?” I called out.
“Mmm.” It was more a moan than a response, but I’d know that voice anywhere.
Sliding the dimmer bathed the room in a soft light, enough to see my wife curled up in the fetal position on the leather couch inside.
“Hey.” I knelt at her side, pushing the hair out of her face and hissing when my palm came in contact with the scorching flesh of her forehead; she was burning up. “What are you doing in here?”
In the early days of our marriage, I’d marked this room as strictly off-limits, but since that time, both of us had broken a lot of rules I’d made out of anger and frustration.
With her eyes closed, Allie croaked out, “Smells like you.”
My chest puffed up with pride that my wife found comfort in my scent, but just as quickly, it deflated at the realization that the reason she needed that comfort was because she was sick.
“How about I move you to bed? How does that sound?”
She let out a whine but didn’t protest when I lifted her into my arms. Face pressed to my chest, she admitted, “I think I caught strep from Bianca. My throat’s on fire. Hurts to swallow.”
It wasn’t all that surprising, considering she’d practically barricaded herself inside the little girl’s bedroom until she was no longer contagious.But fuck if I didn’t hate seeing her suffer, especially as the result of her selflessness in caring for our niece.
If I weren’t already headed for Hell, I would have punched my ticket to that fiery torment if I’d been the one Bianca had puked all over, because I would have cut and run without a second’s hesitation. But Allie took it in stride, prioritizing the little girl’s immediate needs over her own.
The woman was practically a saint, way too good for the likes of me. But like I’d promised her months ago, I wasn’t ever letting her go.
Easing her onto the mattress, I pulled back the covers and tucked her beneath them. “You okay here for a minute while I call the doc?”
Allie’s only reply came in the form of a moan as she turned onto her side, burying her face in a pillow.
Stepping into the sitting room of our suite, I explained the situation to Dr. Corsi, the physician on our payroll. He’d treated Bianca last week and trusted Allie’s diagnostic skills, so he agreed to send over his assistant with a course of antibiotics for my wife.
I ended the call, climbed onto the mattress with Allie, and frowned when I could literally feel the heat radiating off of her from a foot away.
With my phone still in hand, I pulled up a familiar contact and typed out a text.
Your kid gave my wife her cooties. I’m not coming into the office until she’s better.
The reply was instant.
Matteo:1. Call her “my kid” again, and we’re gonna have a problem. 2. You covered my ass for over a month last year when I was taking care of my family, so I think I can survive a few days without you at the office. It’s notlike you really do anything there, anyway, besides being a general pain in my ass while playing guard dog. Which, I’ll point out again, I don’t need.
I didn’t have the energy to have that argument with him again. He was the don. Since he refused to let me put a security detail on him, he was stuck with me. Truth be told, my insistence that he always be accompanied by someone willing to take a bullet for him was mostly self-serving. With Gio gone, if something were to happen to Matteo, it would fall to me to lead the Bellini Family—technically, it would go to my father before me, but there was no way in Hell I would ever allowthatto happen, even if I had no interest in the role myself.
I’ll remind you that I am the President of Bellini Real Estate.
Matteo:*Snorts* In name only.
Hey! I attend important meetings and shit.
Matteo:When it suits you, and don’t act like you aren’t only there because we have those meetings catered.
Oh, man. That sushi we had brought in this week was *Drooling face emoji*
Matteo:Maybe you should focus more on your sick wife than the lunch you ate two days ago.
