Chapter 83 — Prayers For The Sick

MYKAELA.

I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be alone out here with him.

He was the older brother I didn't expect to meet. Not this soon at least. He was Don Luciano Tomassini's firstborn.

The rightful heir.

Like Enzo, he was tall and tan-skinned. Really fit. Handsome, too. But in an intimidating and slightly menacing way.

Leandro's physique loomed over me, casting a shadow that seemed to swallow the warmth from my body. His raven-black hair slicked back, showing off the hard angles of his face, his beard thicker and darker than his brother's. His muscles rippled beneath his shirt, adding to his imposing presence that made me wish I didn't accept his invitation to spend the night here.

"Thanks for helping him." When he closed the distance between us, Leandro tipped the glass of wine in his hand and took a long sip.

I put on a smile. I tried to look calm as his lips stretched into a crooked grin that seemed both sinister and inviting. "Glad I could help."

Leandro chuckled and kept staring at my face. The sound of his muted laugh sent a shiver down my spine. "He tell you yet? That he's got a thing for your type?"

Type?

"You think he's loaded, huh? Is that why you're with him?"

"No. We're just friends, Signore." I mustered a polite smile despite his searing gaze and insult. I wished I could just leave this place, but the only way out of here was via boat or a private plane. I had neither.

Leandro's grin widened as he moved dangerously close, his proximity causing my heart to race. The stench of alcohol clung to his breath, and he seemed to get a real kick out of making me feel inferior. Alone. Insignificant.

My instincts urged me to flee or push him away, but I couldn't move my legs.

"Humor me. Why Belgrade?" His strong hand closed around my arm.

Panic surged inside me.

Shove him.

Shout for help.

Run.

Run fast.

Find an escape.

I wanted to scream, but my voice wouldn't come out, and my legs refused to cooperate. I was cornered. Alone. Weak. I winced at his painful grip on my arm and tried to push him away.

Leandro didn't budge. His dark eyes gleamed with the excitement of domination.

I could feel the tears in my eyes. I bit back a sob and pulled away, hitting my head against the edge of the pool. "Help! Help! Enzo—"

No bodyguards. No maids. No Enzo.

Shit. This sadist might kill me right here, right now, and no one would even notice.

"Who told you to go there?" His heavy hand grasped my throat. A smirk tilted the corner of his pale lips as I struggled to catch my breath. "Answer me, dollface. Why Belgrade?"

"I-I met up with someone there. Let go of me. Please let go." My voice quivered.

The monster's grip only tightened. "Who?"

"A friend. No one you know!"

"Really now."

"I-I'm not spying, Signore."

His grip persisted. "You like snitching for Stefano? Huh? Or you work for the Russians?"

"Let me go! Plea— I don't—" I avoided eye contact but his impenetrable gaze held mine. I tried to shout louder, but my desperate pleas were met with more force. "Please, Si—"

"Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. I asked you a question, Mykaela."

"I-I'm not a spy!" My voice quivered. I fought to breathe as I attempted to push him away, but it proved futile.

Leandro only chuckled, his grin lopsided and turning blurry. "Nice. I see now why my brother likes you."

"No! Let go!"

"I like how you play, too." He grabbed my arms. Leandro yanked me out of the pool and stifled my screams with his palm.

I tried to kick him. Hit him. Fight back. But it was useless. My lungs screamed for air. I couldn't escape his grip.

He dragged me to an enclosed shed, then locked the door and pushed me into a corner.

It was small. Dark. Narrow. It stank. As he stepped closer, I prayed in my head, his strong scent and the darkness swallowing me bit by bit.

"When I'm done with you," he murmured as he stood in front of me, his hot breath grazing my lips, "you will tell him you're using him to spy on me. Understand?"

***

My eyes blinked open. Disoriented and groggy, I tried to rub the daze out of my eyes, sitting in the dark, alone in the backseat of Enzo's car.

Shit. The nightmares were back. And vivid as ever.

Darn it. Time for another appointment with my shrink.

I reclined and tilted my head, my chest tight, my skin cold. The driver's seat was empty.

Where did Lele go?

We were on our way to my mother's house. I must've fallen asleep an hour ago. The front seats were empty, the parking area dim, the misty windows and cloudy sky not exactly calming.

I unbuckled my seat belt and glanced around, my anxiety making me imagine things again. I blamed the fear of being stalked by another one of Ilya's thugs. I didn't know him well enough, but I knew he had more than a few violent criminals on his payroll. Experienced and sociopathic enough to do all of his dirty work for him.

I tried to shake off the thought as I stared at the entrance to the store.

Lele had pulled over at a gas station. The car was parked right outside a small convenience store. But there was no sign of him.

The rest of the backseat felt cold, the deafening silence almost ominous. My hand instinctively touched the necklace Enzo had given me, seeking the comfort it usually provided.

Okay...

Breathe...

No need to panic.

Gabriele was probably just in the bathroom.

I didn't have to ask him twice when I said I wanted to visit my mom in Schenectady. I just had to make sure that she and Jill were safe. That no Russian-speaking strangers were lurking around Mommy's property. Or Serbian, for that matter.

The recurring nightmares that haunted my sleep only fueled my paranoia. I wanted to blame my last conversation with my Miles over the phone, but, it was mostly my overworked brain's fault. I reached for my phone, the bright screen blinding me for a moment.

The clock displayed the time. It was already past midnight.

My heart pounded in my chest as I waited. Two minutes. If Lele didn't show up in two minutes, I'd take the wheel and leave this place without another thought.

Immediate relief made me sigh when his familiar hoodie-clad figure popped up. Lele approached the driver's side with his phone in his hand. The door creaked open before he sat in the driver's seat. "You okay, Miss?"

"Where'd you go?"

"Loo."

"Oh. Did you buy anything?"

"No. Sorry. You want something?" Gabriele's blue eyes met mine briefly in the rearview mirror.

There was a flicker of concern in his gaze, but it was gone before I could think of a way to address it. "No. I'm okay."

He pushed the handbrake down. Like mine, his eyes looked tired and baggy, but there was no way he would agree to check into a motel just to get a few hours of shut-eye.

"Are we leaving now?" I asked when he started the car, the hum of the engine quite relaxing.

"Yeah. We're 30 minutes away."

"Oh. Okay," I replied. "Did Berto call or text you?"

"No," Lele replied without bothering to glance behind.

"Okay." I let out a deep breath and closed my eyes. The car sped up along the highway, and the anxiety that wanted to engulf my thoughts began to ebb.

The Leandro-filled nightmares and the Russian hitman's sudden death left me on edge all night. My conscience was freaking out, screaming at me that Gabriele just murdered a man today. Just to keep me safe.

Right now, though, his presence gave me nothing but a sense of security. As he maneuvered through the wide roads in silence, I couldn't help but wonder if he thought I would call the cops on him.

Probably.

***

The midnight air in Schenectady was chilly. I wrapped my arms around myself, my fingers turning numb as I clung to the warmth of my mug. The soft glow of the patio lights played tricks with the trees, making the branches seem like lurking strangers.

Across the patio table, my mother sat back and stared at me with concern, faint lines forming on her pale face. She wasn't always my go-to confidante. I'd kept a lot of secrets from her, in fact.

But right now, she was the only person I wanted to be around. The only one who could give me the best advice. The only one who could give me the reassurance and say the words I needed to hear.

My mother poured hot tea into her bigger cup, then reached out to hold my hand, her touch offering some comfort.

It momentarily distracted me from contemplating the utter chaos that had entered our lives. The mask I wore probably did little to hide the pallor of my face. I could still picture her face the moment I arrived here with Lele. I understood why she worried about my current weight and the dark bags under my eyes, even though she knew about my long shifts at the hospital.

I just told her that I already moved into Enzo's house, then doubled down and told her that his doctor transferred him to the ICU.

The viral disease he'd been fighting for almost a week now had forced his doctor to induce a coma. The pulmonologist believed it would give Enzo's respiratory and immune system a better fighting chance.

I'd been praying hard for it to work, although part of me still doubted it was the best treatment plan for him.

"Seriously, I had no idea," my mother said in a murmur, her voice almost trembling. Her eyes brimmed with tears under the faint lights. "I'm so sorry, hon."

I took a deep breath, trying to find the words to comfort her, to reassure her that everything would be alright. "No. He's gonna recover faster. He's gonna be fine. His pulmonologist is a great doctor."

"Okay. Good. That's good to know." Mom nodded faintly. "Enzo's a fighter, honey. I'm sure he's gonna pull through."

I really hoped so. I would go insane if he...

Shucks. I didn't even want to think about what could happen if the new treatment didn't work. "His doctor said it shouldn't take two to three days."

"Because it's a medically induced coma?"

"Yeah." I reclined and closed my tired eyes. "It should help his lungs and throat recover faster."

My mother nodded and made the Sign of the Cross, but the worry in her eyes lingered.

"He proposed to me."

"What?" Her eyes widened. She nearly shouted the question, her manicured fingers covering her mouth. "When?"

"Last week," I sighed. I understood her shock. Not for a second did I expect to see Lorenzio holding that diamond engagement ring to my face that night. If I didn't see it with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed it, either.

"But, you're not wearing a ring. Where is it?"

"I said no."

"Oh." My mom crossed her arms, her eyes studying me closely. "What did he say?"

"We're fine. We talked about it." I shrugged, masking the unease making my stomach clench.

"Okay."

"I told him it's too soon, and, he said it's not a problem."

Sheesh. The months flew by so fast. I felt like we were just here weeks ago, drinking wine and hanging out in my parents' backyard, enjoying my niece's christening party while I kept denying to my mother and sister that Enzo and I were already dating.

I sighed at the memory, unable to sit still. I rested my elbows on the table and massaged my forehead, my quiet phone lying beside my old coffee mug. The shock after I heard about Enzo's condition was only compounded by the reason I decided to bring Gabriele along.

My mother still had no idea that Ilya had paid a whitman to stalk me, and that someone had already tracked me down and found my school and workplace.

I shifted in my chair again, my gaze flickering to Gabriele's tall figure partly hidden behind the biggest tree in my mom's yard.

He stood at a vigilant distance, passing the time with his phone while his eyes intermittently scanned the shadows, cautiously listening for any strange noises around my mother's property.

Although I knew he was more than capable of doing his job, the anxiety wouldn't leave me alone. Every now and then, I still felt like I was being watched by strangers, as though the danger was still close by.

"What's his name again? Gabriel?" My mom gestured towards the old bench where Lele sat.

"Just call him 'Lele'." I took a sip of my warm drink, the porcelain cup clinking softly against the saucer. "Mom."

"Hmm?"

"I need to tell you something."

My mom leaned in as her gaze focused on my face. "What?" Her brown eyes squinted at me, her voice muted.

"Don't panic."

"Why? You're making me nervous, K."

I glanced at Gabriele, and then back at her. "I think, um... Ilya sent someone to find me."

My mother's hands froze on the table. "Are you serious?"

I gave her a slight nod. I held my breath, waiting for her to say something else.

A pause stretched into seconds of tense silence. Then a tear trailed down her cheek.

My chest ached. But it was my fault. I knew this would be her immediate reaction.

She had always been haunted by the mere thought of Ilya coming back into our lives, a dangerous, remorseless criminal who already tried to take me from her once. "But how would he..."

"I'm not sure."

"He knows where you live? He's in New York?" Mom almost yelled the question, but she stayed put in her seat.

I clenched my fist and breathed out a sigh. "I don't know. Really." I shook my head. "But he's desperate. That's for sure." Like Miles said, Ilya and my brother would stop at nothing to find me.

Tears ran down my mother's cheeks.

I wanted to swear. A sinking feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. I reached across the table and held her hand, offering what little comfort I could. "Ma, don't cry. Please."

Her tears glistened on her cheeks.

"Okay lang ko. Wala ko naunsa." [I'm fine. Nothing happened to me.]

"Anak, cabal na ka unna si yang place nga tao." [You already know the kind of person he is.] Mom sighed out loud and covered her face, her tone both worried and disappointed. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Sorry. I-I didn't wanna worry you."

"No. We need... I'm calling the police." She grabbed her phone.

Oh shit. "No. Ma, relax. I'm okay. Everything's fine."

"Fine? No! Mykaela, he knows where you—"

"He's not in New York. Okay?" I tried to say calmly. "He's not. I'm sure."

"How do you—"

"Because he's sick."

She gasped.

"He's dying," I clarified, my voice shaky. "He's in Belgrade."

"What? Wait. How do you even..." Her voice wavered.

"Miles knows someone. A guy who knows Ilya personally," I replied, the hesitation still holding me back. "He needs a liver transplant. He's bedridden. There's no way he can travel to New York in his condition."

My mother wiped her tears with her slightly trembling hand, her gaze still filled with fear. "Mykaela, that man's capable of anything. I wasn't exaggerating."

Fine. She had a point. Ilya must be as cunning and well-connected as Stefano and the Tomassinis. He might be a billionaire, if Nicco wasn't lying about the man's wealth and connections. My mom probably knew. Hence her fearing the thought of Ilya taking me away from her.

I squeezed her hand, my heart aching from the pain my news had brought back into her life. "It's okay. I'm fine, Ma." And if I kept saying it out loud, my brain might start believing it. "We're fine."

"No. Hon, you don't get it." She shook her head weakly and sniveled.

"Enzo knows about it. That's why he told Gabriele to keep an eye on me." I gripped her cold hand. "You don't have to call the cops. Okay?"

"But, Ilya knows where you are."

"We're taking every precaution. You really don't need to tell Jill, or the cops. Please. She's already stressed enough." I glanced at Lele who quietly sat below the tree, listening. "Gabriele's always with me. I never leave the house by myself."

Instead of replying or giving me a nod, Mom wiped her eyes and nose with a table napkin, her face still pinkish.

"Don't worry. Okay? I'm fine." I got up from my chair. "We'll figure this out." I gave her a tight hug, wondering what kind of desperate plan Ilya and my brothers might be hatching right now to get to me.

The thought of a confrontation with him still terrified me. But Gabriele's presence assured me that it wouldn't happen anytime soon. He was more than capable of protecting me from whatever danger might be lurking around us. He'd already proven his loyalty to his boss by committing a crime to shield me from that merciless killer.

Although I still didn't know the full extent of what Gabriele had done, I trusted him with my life. And it could have been self-defense. As far as I knew, that Russian man killed people for a living.

According to Berto, that man was the one who tried to kill him, Enzo, and the rest of their convoy during that ambush. I shouldn't feel sorry. Or guilty.

That man probably deserved to die.