Chapter 15 The Nurse and her Patient
I spent the rest of the day wandering the halls of the mansion like a ghost until I thought I might actually lose my mind.
Enzo checked in periodically but they felt like scheduled programming.
By the time it was late into the noon, the silence was suffocating. I'd tried everything.
Reading books from Giovanni's library (all in Italian, naturally), rearranging furniture in my room (pointless), even counting the crystals on the chandelier (two hundred and forty-seven, in case anyone cared).
Nothing worked. The quiet pressed against my skull like a vice.
I need to hear a familiar voice. Just one. Just for a second.
The thought consumed me until I couldn't ignore it anymore.
I'd seen a landline in one of the sitting rooms during my supervised wanderings with Enzo. An actual telephone with an actual cord, like something from a museum. At the time, I'd filed it away as useless information.
Now, it was a lifeline.
I waited until Enzo left after lunch, citing "business to handle." The moment his footsteps faded, I was moving.
The sitting room was empty, exactly as I'd remembered with dark wood paneling, uncomfortable-looking furniture, and there, on a side table, the phone.
My hands shook as I picked up the receiver. The dial tone hummed in my ear like a promise.
Think. Phone numbers. Come on. I yelled internally.
But my mind went blank. I'd always just clicked names in my contacts. My father's personal line? No idea. Christabel's cell? Couldn't remember.
Then, like a gift from whatever god still cared about me. Marco's number hit me like thunderbolt.
We'd made up a song about it when we were kids because he kept forgetting it. The memory surfaced fully formed, complete with the stupid melody.
My fingers trembled as I dialed.
One ring.
Two.
Three
"Hello?" Marco's voice cut through like a knife.
Something in my chest cracked open. "Marco—"
"Arya?!" The word was almost a shout. "Arya, is that you? Oh my God, where are you? Are you hurt? Did he-"
"I'm okay, I'm-" My voice broke. Tears burned down my cheeks before I could stop them. "I'm okay, I just… I needed to hear your voice. I needed to know you're-"
"Where are you?" His voice was raw, and tinged witj desperation. "Tell me where you are, we'll come get you, Your father has men everywhere looking-“
"I don't know." The words came out as a sob. "I don't know where I am, Marco. Some mansion, there are guards everywhere, I can't-"
"Okay, okay, listen to me." He was trying to sound calm, but I could hear him moving, abd other voices in the background. "Stay on the line. Don't hang up. I'm going to trace this call, just keep talking to me-"
"Is Christabel okay? Please tell me she's-"
"She's safe.” He interrupted gently. “She's here with Donna Lucia. They're both-"
The line went dead. Not disconnected but cut.
The silence that followed was deafening. I turned slowly, phone still pressed to my ear, and saw him.
Enzo stood in the doorway, his hand on a small device I hadn't noticed before, some kind of signal jammer, probably.
His expression was completely different from the easy, playful man who'd joked with me over breakfast. This Enzo was cold and dangerous.
"Put the phone down, Arya."
My heart slammed against my ribs. "Enzo, please-"
"Put it down."
I did, hands shaking so badly I nearly dropped it.
He crossed the room in three strides, yanking the cord from the wall with one sharp pull. "What the hell were you thinking?"
"I just wanted to talk to my-“
"You were about to compromise this entire location." His voice was low, controlled fury. "Do you understand that? Every second you were on that line, your family could be tracing it."
Fear crawled up my spine. "I didn't-"
"Didn't what? Think?" He ran a hand through his hair, and for a moment he looked tired. "Jesus, Arya. You signed that contract. You agreed to the rules."
"I never agreed to be isolated like some prisoner!"
"You're not isolated. I check on you. The staff-"
"That's not the same and you know it!" Tears were streaming down my face now, hot and angry. "You have no idea what it's like in here, nothing but silence and guards and-"
"Do you think this is a game!?” The words exploded out of him. "If Giovanni finds out you broke a rule, do you realize what that means for your sister?”
Silence stretched between us. I could hear my own heartbeat thundering in my ears.
Enzo sighed, some of the hardness leaving his expression. "Look, I get it. This is hard. But those rules
exist for a reason, and-"
A crash from somewhere in the mansion cut him off. Then shouting, panicked voices in rapid Italian.
Enzo's entire body went rigid. His hand went to the gun at his hip. "Stay here. Don't move."
He was out the door before I could respond.
Stay here.
Right. Because I was known for my excellent listening skills.
I counted to ten, okay, five, then followed.
The hallway was chaos. Guards running, voices overlapping, someone barking orders. I followed the commotion to the main entrance, where a cluster of men had gathered.
And then I saw him.
Giovanni.
He was being half-carried, half-dragged by two of his men, both of them speaking in rapid, panicked Italian. His shirt was soaked with blood, dark and spreading across his stomach and dripping onto the marble floor.
My breath caught.
"Dov'è il dottore?" Enzo was there, hands on Giovanni's shoulders, trying to get him into a chair. "Someone get the fucking doctor!”
"È in viaggio," one of the guards answered, voice shaking. "Venti minuti—"
"Twenty minutes?" Enzo switched to English, probably without realizing it. "He could bleed out in twenty-"
"I'm fine," Giovanni growled, but the word came out strained.
He slumped into the chair, one hand pressed to his stomach, blood seeping between his fingers. His face was pale, jaw clenched, but his eyes were still sharp. Still furious.
He immediately started barking orders at his men. "Calm the fuck down. All of you. It's a fucking scratch-"
"Boss, you need to—"
"I need you to shut up and call the fucking doctor. " Giovanni snapped, though his voice was weaker than usual. More blood pooled on the floor beneath him.
I stood frozen in the doorway, taking in the scene with jittering nerves.
A twisted part that I didn't want to acknowledge hoped he would bleed out right there.
That this would be it and I'd be free.
But seeing him like this, watching the life drain from him in real-time, something else stirred in my chest.
You can help him. The thought came unbidden.
I'd taken a first aid course in college, required for the charity work my mother insisted I partake in.
I'd hated every second of it, but I'd learned. Pressure points, wound packing and how to keep someone from bleeding out while waiting for real help.
Before I could second-guess myself, I stepped forward. "I can do it."
No one heard me over the shouting.
I took a breath and tried again, louder. "I can help with the wound!"
Everyone went silent then every head turned toward me. The guards, Enzo, and even the men holding Giovanni up.
And Giovanni himself, those steel-gray eyes boring into me with an intensity that should have made me step back.
But I stood my ground.
"I took a trauma first aid course," I said, surprised by how steady my voice was. "I can pack the wound until the doctor arrives. Keep him from bleeding out."
More silence.
Enzo looked at me like I'd grown a second head. "Arya-"
"I'm serious." I crossed my arms, ignoring the way my hands still shook. "I'll help him. Not because I like him," I added, meeting Giovanni's gaze directly, "but because it'll mess with my conscience if someone dies while I'm standing here doing nothing."
The words hung in the air. No one moved.
Then, slowly, Giovanni's mouth curved into a smirk.
That goddamn smirk. Even bleeding out, even pale and wounded, he had the audacity to look amused. Like this was all some elaborate joke only he understood.
"Well, isn’t this surprising?” he said, voice rough but laced with dark humor. "The little bird wants to save me."
I hated him for that smirk and the way it made something hot and sharp twist in my chest.
"Do you want to bleed out on your expensive marble floor, or do you want my help?" I asked flatly. "Because I can go back to my room if you prefer the dramatic death route."
Another beat of silence.
Then Giovanni laughed, before the sound turned into a pained grunt. "Get her gloves," he ordered, still watching me. "And a trauma kit."
Enzo hesitated. "Boss, are you sure-"
"Now, Enzo." The command in his voice was absolute.
Enzo grabbed my arm, pulling me aside. "You don't have to do this," he said quietly. "No one expects-"
"I know." I met his eyes. "But I can't just watch him die. Even if part of me wants to."
Something flickered in Enzo's expression. "Alright.” He handed me a pair of medical gloves. "Don't make me regret this."
I snapped them on, walked over to where Giovanni sat bleeding, and looked down at the man who'd kidnapped me, threatened my sister, and turned my life into a cage.
"This is going to hurt," I told him.
His smirk widened. "Everything does, Princess. Everything does."
And as I knelt beside him, pressing clean gauze to the wound while he hissed in pain, I wondered if I'd just made the biggest mistake of my life.
Or if somehow, impossibly, I'd just changed everything.