Chapter 24 Dangerous Question
Wednesday, 9:47 AM
Aria sat in her office at Sant'Angelo Hospital, staring at the wire device on her desk.
She'd been staring at it for twenty minutes, trying to decide if she was brave enough or desperate enough to actually use it.
Dante's appointment was in thirteen minutes.
The wire was small enough to hide in her white coat pocket. Isabetta had assured her it would pick up everything within ten feet. All Aria had to do was activate it, slip it into her pocket, and conduct the appointment like normal.
Except nothing about this was normal.
Her phone buzzed. Dante: On my way. See you soon.
Aria's hand trembled as she picked up the device. Just a small switch on the side. Flip it up, and everything Dante said would be recorded. Evidence for Isabetta. Evidence against him.
Evidence of... what, exactly? That he had a heart condition and needed treatment? That wasn't a crime.
Unless Isabetta was right. Unless he was using the medical dependency as cover for something darker.
Your father killed Dante's family 20 years ago. Dante's been planning revenge.
Aria flipped the switch.
The tiny indicator light turned green, then faded to barely visible. Active. Recording.
She slipped it into her coat pocket just as a knock sounded on her door.
"Come in."
Dante entered, and her breath caught despite everything. He looked tired, dark circles under his eyes, tension in his shoulders but his smile when he saw her was genuine.
Or looked genuine. She couldn't tell anymore.
"Dottoressa." He closed the door behind him. "Thank you for fitting me in. I know your schedule is packed."
"Your heart doesn't care about my schedule." Aria gestured to the examination table, forcing professionalism into her voice. "How have you been feeling? Any episodes since Monday?"
"A few irregular beats. Nothing major." He settled onto the table, watching her with those dark eyes that saw too much. "But I'm more concerned about you. You seem... off."
"Just tired. Busy week." She pulled out her stethoscope, avoiding his gaze. "Shirt off, please."
He complied, and Aria forced herself to focus on the medical aspects. Not on the tattoos telling stories she was only beginning to understand. Not on the portrait of Angelina over his heart the eight-year-old girl Isabetta claimed Bruno had murdered.
Don't think about that. Just do your job.
She pressed the stethoscope to his chest. His heartbeat was faster than it should be. Irregular. Stress-induced, probably.
"Your rhythm is off," she said, moving the stethoscope to different positions. "Have you been under unusual stress?"
"You could say that."
"Dante, this is serious. Long QT Syndrome doesn't care about your stress levels. If you don't manage it properly—"
"I know. That's why I'm here." His hand came up, gently catching her wrist. "But I'm not the only one under stress. Talk to me, Aria. What's wrong?"
She pulled her hand away, stepping back. "Nothing's wrong. I'm just being thorough."
"You're lying." His voice was quiet. "You've barely looked at me since I walked in. You're being professional to the point of cold. Something happened. What was it?"
Aria busied herself with the EKG machine, attaching electrodes to his chest with hands that wanted to shake. The wire device felt heavy in her pocket. Recording every word.
"My father wants me to have dinner with someone Friday night," she said, keeping her voice neutral. "Lorenzo Lazzari. He's very insistent."
She felt Dante tense even before the EKG picked up the spike in his heart rate.
"Tommaso Lazzari's son," Dante said carefully. "Your father's business partner."
"You know him?"
"I know of him. Rome's business circles overlap." Dante's jaw tightened. "And you're going to this dinner?"
"I don't have much choice. My father was... emphatic."
"Don't go."
The sharpness in his voice made her look up. His expression had shifted something dangerous flickering beneath the surface.
"It's just dinner," Aria said.
"Nothing with your father is just dinner." Dante sat up, electrodes still attached, the EKG machine beeping an alarm at the movement. "Aria, there are things about Bruno Salvini you don't know. Things I—" He stopped himself.
"Things you what?"
"Things I wish I could tell you but can't. Not without—" He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "Just don't go to that dinner. Please. Trust me on this."
"Trust you?" Aria's voice rose slightly. "You won't tell me why. Won't explain what you know about my father that makes a simple dinner dangerous. You just expect me to blindly follow your instructions."
"Yes."
"That's not how trust works, Dante."
"I know." His eyes held hers. "But sometimes trust means believing someone has your best interests at heart even when they can't explain everything. Even when it doesn't make sense."
Aria thought about the wire recording this conversation. About Isabetta's accusations. About the partial truths everyone kept feeding her.
"Tell me about your family," she said quietly. "Your real family."
Dante went absolutely still.
"What?"
"You told me once that your mother struggled with depression. Watching her suffer made you want to become a therapist." Aria moved closer, watching his face carefully. "But you've never told me about your father. Or if you have siblings. Or anything real about where you come from."
"That's not relevant to my cardiac care."
"Isn't it? Stress affects your condition. Family history affects genetic factors. I should know more about your background." She paused. "Unless you're hiding something."
The silence stretched between them.
"Everyone's hiding something," Dante said finally. "The question is whether what I'm hiding is relevant to you."
"Is it?"
"Yes."
The admission hung in the air.
"Then tell me," Aria pushed. "Whatever you're hiding. Whatever connection you have to my father that makes you so concerned about a dinner with Lorenzo Lazzari. Tell me the truth."
Dante's hands clenched into fists. She could see him wrestling with something: the desire to speak versus the need to stay silent.
"I can't," he said. "Not yet. Not until—"
"Until what? Until you're sure you can trust me? Until the timing is right? Until—"
"Until I know it won't destroy you." His voice cracked. "The truth about who I am and why I'm really in Rome. When you find out, Aria, it's going to change everything between us. And I'm not ready to lose you yet."
Her heart pounded. The wire in her pocket felt like it was burning.
"You're scaring me."
"Good. You should be scared. Of me, of your father, of all of this." Dante stood, yanking off the EKG electrodes. "You should run as far and fast from both of us as you can."
"Why?"
"Because we're both dangerous. Just in different ways."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only answer I can give you right now." He pulled on his shirt, movements sharp with frustration. "Are you all right? You seem distant."
The echo of her earlier lie was thrown back at her.
"I'm fine," Aria said. "Just tired. How's your heart?"
"Physically? Manageable. Metaphorically?" He met her eyes. "Breaking."
Before she could respond, his phone rang.
Dante glanced at the screen and his face went white. "I have to take this."
He answered, listened for five seconds, then his entire body went rigid.
"Where?" His voice was deadly calm. "How bad? ...I'm on my way."
He ended the call and grabbed his jacket.
"I have to go. Emergency."
"What kind of emergency?"
"The kind that means someone I care about is in the hospital with a bullet in his chest." Dante moved to the door, then stopped. Turned back. "There's something I need to tell you. About why I really came to this city. About who I—"
His phone rang again. Different ringtone. More urgent.
"Dante, what's going on?"
"I'll explain everything. Soon. I promise." He looked at her with something that might have been desperation. "But right now I have to go before Rocco dies."
"Rocco? Rocco was shot?"
"Yes. And if I don't get to him—" Dante stopped. "I have to go. I'm sorry."
Then he was gone, the door slamming behind him, leaving Aria alone with half-answers and the wire device still recording in her pocket.
She waited thirty seconds to make sure he wasn't coming back, then pulled out the device.
Still active. Still recording. Had captured the entire appointment.
Her hands shook as she deactivated it.
There's something I need to tell you. About why I really came to this city. About who I—
He'd been about to confess. About to tell her everything. And the universe had intervened with a phone call and a gunshot victim.
Aria sank into her chair, staring at the wire device.
She had Dante on recording admitting he was hiding something significant. Admitting there was truth that would "destroy" her. Admitting a connection to her father.
But not confessing what that connection was.
Not yet.
Her phone buzzed. Text from Isabetta: Did you get anything?
Aria stared at the message. She could send the recording. Let Isabetta hear Dante's evasions and half-truths.
Or she could keep it to herself. Give Dante a chance to actually confess before she used his words against him.
She typed: Nothing useful. He deflected all my questions.
The lie came easily. Too easily.
Keep trying. Friday is coming. We need evidence before then.
Aria pocketed both phones and headed for the door. If Rocco had been shot, he'd be brought to Sant'Angelo. It was the closest major hospital to where La Congrega Nera operated.
Which meant she might see Dante again. Might get another chance at the truth.
Or might just watch him lie some more while she recorded every word.
She grabbed her white coat and headed for the ER.
Whatever was happening, it was escalating.
And Aria was running out of time to decide which side she was on.