Chapter 10 Vulnerable
Aria's POV
Aria studied the EKG monitor with the clinical detachment she'd perfected over years of medical training, but beneath the professional mask, her pulse hammered. The rhythm tracing across the screen was wrong. Dangerously wrong.
"Prolonged QT interval. Premature ventricular contractions." She looked up, meeting Dante's eyes. "This is worse than your last reading. When was your last injection? Your last follow-up with Dr. Russo?"
"Two weeks ago."
"You're supposed to have monitoring every week initially. And you're supposed to avoid stress." She gestured between them, frustration bleeding through her control. "This? Us? This is stress. Your body literally can't handle it."
"Worth it."
"You could die."
"Then I'll die happy." His fingers brushed her cheek so gently it made her throat tight. "You care about me."
"You're my patient."
"I'm more than that and you know it."
She did know it. And the truth of it scared her more than any diagnosis.
Her phone buzzed on the coffee table. Papa. Again. Third call in ten minutes.
Dante's eyes flicked to the screen. "He knows you're with me."
"Gavino saw us leave the café." Aria's hand hovered over the phone, then pulled back. "He's probably already reported everything."
"Then answer it. Face it now rather than later."
"Not while you're having a cardiac episode." She turned back to the monitor, watching his rhythm slowly stabilize. "You need to come in for proper monitoring. Today. I'll take you to the hospital myself."
"Only if you're the one treating me."
"Dante—"
"I mean it, Aria. I don't trust anyone else. Just you." His gaze held hers, vulnerable and intense. "You're the only one who knows about this weakness. In my world, that makes you either my greatest threat or my only ally. I'm choosing to believe you're the second one."
"Why? Why trust me when my father—"
She stopped. I couldn't finish that sentence. When my father killed your family. The words hung unspoken between them.
"Because you saved my life when you could've let me die," Dante said quietly. "Because you look at me like I'm human, not a monster. Because right now, you're the only person in the world I feel safe with."
The words landed heavy. Aria's palm was still on his chest, feeling the flawed rhythm beneath her touch. That vulnerable organ beating too fast, too irregular, but still beating.
Still alive.
"You need to lie still," she said, her voice rougher than intended. "Let your pulse rate come down. Deep breaths."
He obeyed, his chest rising and falling beneath her touch. She watched the monitor, watched the rhythm slowly stabilize, watched his color improve from pale to something closer to normal.
And realized her own hands were shaking.
"Are you all right?" Dante asked, noticing.
"You could have died. Right here. In my apartment." The professional mask cracked. "And I would have been responsible."
"No. You would have been the one who tried to save me. Again." He covered her trembling fingers with his, holding them against his chest. "See? Still beating. Because of you."
Her phone erupted again. Papa. The vibration felt like an accusation.
"You have to answer him eventually," Dante said.
"I know." But she didn't move. Didn't want to break this moment, this strange intimacy of her hand over his heart, his warmth covering hers.
The monitor beeped steadily in the background. Crisis averted. For now.
"Hospital," she said finally, pulling away. "Now. Complete workup. And then we're establishing a proper treatment schedule. Weekly appointments. Daily medication monitoring. No arguments."
"Weekly appointments mean seeing you every week."
"That's generally how weekly appointments work."
"And if I need more frequent monitoring?" His slight smile was dangerous. "Daily check-ins?"
Despite everything, she felt her lips curve. "Don't push your luck, Moretti."
"Too late. The moment I woke up and saw you, luck was the only thing I had left."
The drive to Sant'Angelo Hospital took twelve minutes of tense silence.
Dante watched the city pass, and every few minutes Aria glanced at him, checking his color, his breathing, the subtle signs of deterioration.
"I'm fine," he said without looking at her. "You can stop checking."
"I'll stop checking when we have you stable."
Her phone, sitting in the cup holder, lit up again. Papa. She'd ignored seven calls now.
"He's going to show up at your apartment if you don't answer," Dante observed.
"Let him." But her hands tightened on the steering wheel.
They pulled into the staff parking, and Aria killed the engine. For a moment, neither moved.
"Once we go in there," Aria said quietly, "people will know. About us. About this. Whatever this is."
"Does that scare you?"
"Terrifies me."
"Good. Means you're smart." Dante reached over, his fingers finding hers. "But you're doing it anyway. That means you're brave."
"Or stupid."
"There's a fine line."
They made their way through the back corridors, Aria's ID badge getting them past security. The cardiac unit was quiet for a Sunday, but not empty.
"Stay close," she murmured as the elevator doors opened. "And if anyone asks, you're here for routine follow-up."
"Technically true."
"Technically."
But the moment they stepped into the cardiac unit, Aria knew their luck had run out.
Nurse Bianca stood at the nurses' station, and her eyes widened the second she saw them together.
"Dottoressa Salvini?" Bianca's gaze moved from Dante to Aria, taking in everything the way Aria stood slightly protective, the flush on her cheeks, the intimate familiarity between them.
"Buongiorno, Bianca. I'm bringing in a patient for follow-up tests."
"The tattooed man from two weeks ago." Bianca's voice carried a knowing edge. "The one who kept asking about you."
Aria felt heat creep up her neck. "Mr. Moretti is under my care for cardiac monitoring. I need examination room three and a full cardiac workup kit."
Bianca's eyebrows rose, but she nodded. "Of course, Dottoressa."
As Bianca walked away, Dante murmured, "She suspects."
"She suspects a lot of things. None of which she can prove." Aria pushed open the examination room door. "Sit. I'll be right back."
When she returned with equipment, Dante was standing by the window, looking out over Rome.
"You should be sitting."
"I've been sitting. Now I'm standing." He turned. "This hospital. It's your world. Clean. Ordered. Everything makes sense." He moved toward her. "I'm not part of this world, Aria. I'm chaotic. Disorder. Everything you've spent your life avoiding."
"I know."
"Then why am I here?"
She knew what he was asking. And she didn't have an answer that wouldn't change everything.
"Sit down," she said instead. "Let me do my job."
The examination was thorough, professional. Blood pressure. Pulse. Twelve-lead EKG. Her fingers brushed his skin through latex gloves, and even through the barrier, the contact felt electric.
The rhythm strip printed. Aria studied it with professional detachment that was becoming harder to maintain.
"The arrhythmia is controlled for now, but you're on the edge. We need to adjust your medication immediately. Weekly monitoring, minimum."
"With you."
"Dante—"
"With you, Aria. Or I don't do it at all."
"That's blackmail."
"That's survival." His eyes held hers. "In my world, trust is currency. You're the only doctor I trust with this. So either you agree, or I take my chances without treatment."
They stared at each other, the air thick with unspoken things.
"Aria?"
The voice from the doorway shattered the moment.
Dr. Elena Russo stood there, her expression unreadable, taking in the scene with sharp assessment.
"Dr. Russo," Aria said, straightening. "I was just—"
"Bringing Mr. Moretti in for emergency cardiac monitoring. So I heard." Elena's gaze moved to Dante, then back to Aria. "A word. In the hallway."
It wasn't a request.
In the corridor, Elena's carefully neutral expression cracked. "I told you to keep your distance."
"He had a cardiac emergency—"
"In your apartment. Where you'd brought him after coffee." Elena's voice was quiet but sharp. "You stabilized him yourself rather than calling emergency services."
"I had the equipment—"
"Or it was more private." Elena studied her face. "You're falling for him."
"I'm treating a patient with a serious cardiac condition."
"You're falling for a dangerous man." Elena's expression softened slightly. "I've seen this before. The intensity of saving someone's life, the bond it creates. But Aria, men like Dante Moretti don't have happy endings."
"I'm just doing my job."
"Then assign him to another cardiologist. I'll take over his care."
The suggestion felt like losing something vital.
"He won't accept another doctor."
"Then that's his choice and his consequence."
Aria thought about Dante in that examination room, vulnerable in ways he'd never show anyone else. About the trust in his eyes when he'd asked for her help.
"I'll take him as my patient," she heard herself say. "Official assignment. Weekly monitoring. Proper protocols."
Elena sighed. "The moment this becomes more than doctor and patient, the moment it compromises your judgment, I'm pulling you from the case. Understood?"
"Understood."
But as Aria walked back into the examination room, saw Dante watching her with those intense eyes, she wondered if it was already too late.
"You're stuck with me," she said, pulling out her prescription pad. "Weekly appointments. No arguments. No skipping. No pretending you're fine when you're not."
"I can live with that."
"Can you? Because this means honesty, Dante. About symptoms, stress levels, what triggers episodes. No hiding."
"Honesty." His smile was devastating. "I think I can manage that."
She wrote the prescription, her handwriting crisp despite the chaos in her chest.
"First appointment Wednesday. Ten AM. Don't be late."
"I won't."
Their fingers brushed as she handed him the prescription. The contact was brief but felt like a promise.
"Thank you," Dante said quietly. "For saving me. Again."
"That's what doctors do."
"No. That's what you do." He moved toward the door, then paused. "For what it's worth... I'm glad it was you. That night in the OR. This morning. I'm glad it was you."
Then he was gone.
Aria stood alone, heart racing, knowing she'd just made a choice that would change everything.
Her phone buzzed. Unknown number.
Wednesday. Ten AM. I'll be there. Try not to miss me too much until then. - DM
Despite herself, she smiled and typed back: Don't flatter yourself, Moretti.
His response came immediately: Too late. You already did.
She was still smiling when her phone rang again.
Papa.
This time, she couldn't avoid it anymore.
Aria answered. "Papa."
"Where are you?" Bruno's voice was tight. Controlled. Dangerous.
"At the hospital. Working."
"Gavino said you left Signora Lucia's with a man. The same man from the hospital two weeks ago. Dante Moretti."
Her stomach dropped. "He had a medical emergency—"
"In a café? How convenient." A pause. "Come to the estate. Now. We need to talk about the company you're keeping."
"Papa, I'm working—"
"Now, Aria. This isn't a request."
The line went dead.
Aria stared at her phone, heart pounding.
She'd been so focused on Dante's crisis, on saving his life, on the magnetic pull between them, that she'd forgott
en the most important thing.
Her father was dangerous. Powerful. And he'd just found out his daughter was involved with the son of the family he'd murdered.
Whatever happened next, there would be consequences.
The only question was whether any of them would survive them.