Chapter 73: Don’t Call Me Sir
The room was filled with the soft, steady hum of medical machinery, a sound that had been the soundtrack to weeks of tense, fragile survival. The fluorescent lights cast a sterile glow over the intensive care unit.
Lorenzo De Luca stood beside the bed, defying every rule of post-operative care. He had gently pulled the monitoring wires and IV drips from his arm, leaving small, glistening drops of blood on the pristine white sheets. He felt a surge of vitality, a clean, powerful feeling he hadn't experienced in years. His strength had increased, his senses sharpened, leaving him wondering what exactly had transpired to revitalize him so completely.
He looked down at the corner of the room, where Isla was curled asleep in a plastic chair, her body slumped from exhaustion. He stared at her face, tracing the delicate curve of her jaw and noticing the ugly, dark bruise blooming high on her cheekbone. A wave of cold fury, sharp as the poison that had nearly claimed him, washed over him. He reached out a hand, his touch surprisingly gentle, and grazed the tender skin of her cheek.
—
Isla point of view
I felt a sudden warm hand touching my cheek. It was a pressure too distinct to be a dream. I startled awake, blinking rapidly.
Lorenzo was standing over me. He was fully conscious, completely untethered from the machines, his body radiating a new, dangerous intensity. The sight of the small beads of blood forming on his hand where he had pulled the IVs out sent a jolt of panic through me.
“Sir! What did you do? You still need to lay down!” I said, the formality slipping out due to sheer worry.
I scrambled up, my muscles screaming in protest, to grab a sterile wipe to clean his hand. He remained absolutely still, watching my every movement with an unnerving, icy focus. I held his hand, dabbing the puncture wound, overwhelmed by the profound relief that he was finally awake. I knew I had to tell him about Alexei Valerius’s calculated plan; if I didn’t speak, Lorenzo would remain vulnerable.
Before I could form the words, he moved. He took the cloth from my hand and gently cupped my face. Then, he kissed me. Hard.
It was a demanding, hungry kiss that left no room for breath or thought. His arm clamped around my waist, pulling me tight against his chest, gluing my body to his. My hands instinctively pressed against the solid muscle of his chest, bracing myself.
He finally broke the kiss, pulling back just inches. He looked down at me, his eyes ice blue, sharp as broken glass left in the snow.
“Don’t ever call me sir again,” he said, his voice low and utterly cold.
“I’m… I’m nothing but your nurse, so You… you need to sit down… sir,” I barely managed to whisper, the word slipping out again from my frantic state, and suddenly forgetting the critical warnings I needed to give.
The flicker of control in his eyes snapped. He carried me without warning, his arms strong and effortless, moving me onto the bed and placing me carefully on his lap. My head spun, still fighting the residual effects of the Sarin.
“Call me sir one more time,” he said, his gaze burning into mine.
I couldn’t speak. I simply stared at his face, and without thinking, my fingers gently reached up to brush a lock of hair from his forehead.
“Stop putting on some new act, and call me by my name, like you normally do,” he commanded, and then softened the blow with a light kiss on my cheek.
What is wrong with him? Does he have any idea what he survived? He was acting as if he felt no pain, yet I could clearly see the deep laceration on his shoulder where I had opened him up to remove the poisoned blood.
His eyes narrowed, flicking down to the bruise on my face. “I didn’t see any bruises on your cheeks the last time I woke up here. So that means someone must have hit you here… or were you hurt elsewhere?” he asked coldly, his gaze lifting to meet mine, demanding the truth.
I felt the blood drain from my face, realizing I couldn't shield him from the truth any longer. I reached up and gently touched the bruise Matteo had left. I had to choose my words carefully, revealing only what was essential to his safety and keeping the complexity of Alexei’s involvement hidden for the moment. Just for now. Until I reveal that snake to you.
“It was Matteo,” I whispered, the name tasting like ash. I watched his ice-blue eyes narrow, the protective coldness in them deepening into something lethal.
I explained how we drove to the cabin to retrieve the final peptide stabilizer, and how Matteo had been waiting. “He ambushed Nico the moment I went inside. He was the one who poisoned you, Lorenzo. He worked with the Petrov Consortium.”
I described the trap: the Sarin gas filling the cabin, the desperation to find the antidote, and the horrifying note detailing how the poison would spread through your system.
“He confronted me outside, by the car,” I continued, speaking quickly to get ahead of his potential fury. “He threatened to kill Nico if I didn’t give him the medicine and the Ledger. I... I had to stop him. I used a neuro-paralyzer on him. He collapsed in the snow, and Alexei’s men took him into custody.”
I paused, letting the magnitude of the betrayal sink in. “He was the one. He also poisoned you for years about the time I saved you in that lake,
”
“Oh I see” he said.
Matteo was his family doctor for a long time. I can see the dangers in Lorenzo's eyes.
He didn't ask about his brother, but the question was clear in his silence.
I quickly added, "Nico was hurt, but he's fine now. He's in his room and also awake."
Lorenzo smiled, a slow, devastating expression of relief, and held me even tighter, pulling me into a desperate embrace as if terrified he would lose me again now that he was conscious.
“When we get home, you’ll tell me everything that happened, clearly,” he said, his lips grazing my hair.
I swallowed, the weight of the coming separation settling heavily on my chest. My stay with Lorenzo would end by tomorrow, just when he felt he needed me the most. But this was not the right time to shatter the fragile peace of his awakening.