Chapter 3 - FOURTEEN DAYS OF SILENCE
The clinic smelled of disinfectant and burnt coffee.
Amelia sat on an examination table beneath a thin blanket while a physician named Dr. Helen Foster inspected the injury.
Lorenzo waited outside.
Not because he wanted to.
Because Amelia had asked him to.
For the first time in years, Lorenzo Bianchi was discovering how difficult it could be to respect a boundary when every instinct told him to take control.
He paced the hallway.
His phone vibrated.
Marco DeLuca.
His second-in-command.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“We've confirmed Moretti's people were in Colorado last week.”
Lorenzo stopped.
“Where?”
“Denver. Two vehicles registered to one of his holding companies.”
“Any connection to Crested Butte?”
“Possibly.”
Lorenzo looked toward the examination room.
“Find out.”
Marco hesitated.
“Boss, should we prepare a team?”
“No.”
Silence.
“Sir?”
“No armed men near her. No surprises. Nothing that makes her feel trapped.”
Marco sounded confused.
“Understood.”
Lorenzo ended the call.
Then sat down.
For fourteen days, he had imagined Amelia laughing somewhere with another man.
He had imagined her abandoning him because she feared his enemies.
Because she regretted the marriage.
Because she had finally decided that loving a mafia boss was too dangerous.
He had never imagined someone had burned an enemy's symbol into her skin.
The examination-room door opened.
Dr. Foster stepped out.
“Mr. Bianchi?”
He stood.
“How is she?”
“The wound needs treatment, and I'm concerned about the infection. We're arranging additional care.”
He nodded.
“Whatever she needs.”
The doctor studied him.
“She's also severely exhausted and appears undernourished.”
Lorenzo closed his eyes.
The physician continued.
“She's frightened.”
He looked at her.
“I know.”
“Then don't make this harder for her.”
The words would have offended him from almost anyone else.
Instead, he nodded.
“I won't.”
---
When Amelia emerged, she wore clean clothes supplied by the clinic.
Her face was pale.
Her eyes looked enormous.
Lorenzo stood.
“Are you hungry?”
She hesitated.
Then nodded.
“There's a diner nearby,” he said.
She looked toward the windows.
“Will your men be there?”
“No.”
“Will you tell them where I'm staying?”
“Not without your permission.”
She studied him.
Then whispered, “I don't know if I can trust you.”
May you like
Lorenzo swallowed.
“You don't have to decide today.”
