Chapter 32 The Celebration
Friday arrived with Aria running on four hours of sleep and too much caffeine.
She'd spent Thursday night replaying the kiss in her office. Dante's hands in her hair. His mouth on hers. The way he'd looked at her like she was something precious instead of convenient.
Tomorrow they had dinner. A real date. And Aria still hadn't decided if she was more terrified or excited.
"Dr. Salvini?" Bianca appeared in the doorway of the residents' lounge, her expression unreadable. "You're needed in Conference Room B. Immediately."
Aria looked up from her tablet where she'd been reviewing post-op notes. "What's wrong? Did something happen to one of my patients?"
"Just go. Now." Bianca's tone left no room for questions.
Dread pooled in Aria's stomach. Conference Room B was where they held disciplinary meetings. Where the administration delivered bad news. Where careers went to die.
Someone had reported the kiss. Had to be. Probably saw them through the office window. Or maybe Dante had mentioned it to the wrong person and word had spread.
Either way, she was about to get fired for inappropriate conduct with a patient.
Aria stood on shaking legs. "Should I bring anything? My patient files? Documentation of—"
"Just yourself. Stop stalling."
The walk to Conference Room B felt like a march to execution. Aria's mind raced through worst-case scenarios. Suspension. License review. Her entire career was destroyed because she couldn't keep her hands off a man who was probably going to break her heart anyway.
She paused outside the door, took a breath, and pushed it open.
"SURPRISE!"
Aria jumped back, hand flying to her chest as the room erupted in noise. Streamers hung from the ceiling. A banner stretched across the back wall reading "CONGRATULATIONS DR. SALVINI!" in bold letters. At least twenty people packed the space residents, nurses, attending physicians, even some administrators.
Sienna rushed forward, grinning like an idiot. "Your face! Oh my God, I wish I'd taken a picture."
"What is happening?" Aria's heart was still hammering. "I thought I was being fired."
"Fired?" Dr. Elena Russo stepped forward, elegant in her usual composed way. "Quite the opposite. We're celebrating."
"Celebrating what?"
Elena pulled an envelope from her jacket. Embossed. Expensive-looking. She handed it to Aria with something that might have been pride softening her usually stern features.
"Open it."
Aria's hands trembled as she broke the seal. Inside, thick cardstock with raised gold lettering:
International Medical Excellence Gala
You are cordially invited to attend as Sant'Angelo Hospital's nominee for the Promising Young Physician Award in recognition of outstanding achievement in cardiac surgery...
The words blurred. Aria blinked hard, and read it again.
Promising Young Physician Award.
Her.
"I don't understand," she whispered.
"You've been nominated for one of the most prestigious awards in European medicine," Elena said. "Based on your surgical outcomes, your innovative techniques, and your recently accepted research paper."
"What research paper?"
"The one on minimally invasive cardiac repair that you submitted six months ago. The European Journal of Cardiothoracic Surgery accepted it for publication. Fall issue." Elena's smile was genuine now. Warm. "You didn't think to mention that you'd submitted to them?"
"I didn't think they'd actually publish it. The acceptance rate is—"
"Two percent. I know." Elena squeezed her shoulder. "You earned this, Aria. All of it."
The room erupted in applause. Aria stood frozen, overwhelmed, as colleagues she'd worked alongside for years congratulated her. Residents she'd trained. Nurses who'd assisted in her surgeries. Even Dottore Vitale, looking uncomfortable but managing a thin smile.
Sienna pulled her into a crushing hug. "I told you that paper was brilliant. But did you listen? No."
"I can't believe you kept this secret." Aria's voice cracked. "How long have you known?"
"Three days. It's been killing me." Sienna dragged her toward a table laden with food and wine. "Now drink. Celebrate. Stop looking like you're about to pass out."
Someone pressed a glass of prosecco into Aria's hand. She drank without tasting it, still trying to process.
The Gala was in two weeks. She'd be representing Sant'Angelo in front of the best physicians in Europe. Competing for an award that could change her entire career trajectory.
"Speech!" someone called out. Others picked up the chant. "Speech! Speech!"
Aria's face heated. Public speaking ranked somewhere below emergency amputations on her list of favorite activities.
But Elena was watching with expectation. Sienna was practically vibrating with excitement. Even Bianca looked pleased in her gruff way.
Aria cleared her throat. "I honestly have no idea what to say. This is... I'm completely overwhelmed."
Scattered laughter.
"When I started at Sant'Angelo five years ago, I was terrified. Fresh out of medical school. Convinced I'd kill someone within the first week." She caught Elena's eye. "Dr. Russo spent those first months saving me from my own incompetence. Teaching me not just medicine, but how to think like a surgeon."
Elena inclined her head slightly.
"And everyone in this room has contributed to whatever skills I've managed to develop. The nurses who catch my mistakes before they become disasters. The residents who ask questions that make me reconsider my assumptions. The attending physicians who've pushed me to be better." Aria's voice thickened. "This nomination isn't just mine. It belongs to all of you."
More applause. Someone wiped their eyes.
"Plus," Aria added, attempting lightness, "if I win, the award ceremony has an open bar. So you're all invited to crash it."
That got laughs. The tension broke. People moved toward the food, conversations splitting into smaller groups.
Elena appeared at Aria's elbow. "A moment?"
They stepped into the hallway, away from the celebration noise.
"That was gracious," Elena said. "If a bit modest. You earned this on your own merit, regardless of who helped along the way."
"I know. But it felt important to say." Aria studied her mentor's face. "Is there something else?"
"Always perceptive." Elena crossed her arms. "The Gala is high-profile. Politicians. Media coverage. Major donors who fund research grants and hospital expansions. Your behavior there will reflect on Sant'Angelo."
"I'll be professional. I promise."
"I'm not worried about your professional conduct. I'm worried about your personal situation."
Aria's stomach dropped. "Dante."
"If he attends as your guest, people will notice. People will ask questions. And those questions might become problematic for both your career and the hospital's reputation."
"He's not attending. This is my achievement. My night." Aria met Elena's gaze. "Whatever's happening between us, I'm keeping it separate from work."
"Are you? Because Nurse Bianca reported seeing you in a rather compromising position yesterday morning."
Heat flooded Aria's face. "That was... we were..."
"Save it. I don't need details." Elena's expression softened fractionally. "I'm not judging your choices. But I am asking you to be careful. Men like Dante Moretti don't exist in worlds compatible with medical careers. Eventually, you'll have to choose."
"Maybe I won't. Maybe I can have both."
"Perhaps. But in my experience, that kind of optimism usually ends in disappointment." Elena touched her arm briefly. "Just... think about what you're risking. And decide if he's worth it."
She walked back into the celebration, leaving Aria alone in the hallway.
Worth it. Was Dante worth risking everything she'd worked for?
Three weeks ago, the answer would've been obvious. No man was worth her career.
But three weeks ago, she didn't know what it felt like when he looked at her like she was the only person in the room. Hadn't felt his hands gentle despite their obvious capacity for violence. Hadn't heard him admit he was terrified but staying anyway.
Her phone buzzed. Text from Dante: How's your day?
She stared at it for a long moment. Then typed: Complicated. Good complicated. I'll explain tomorrow.
His response was immediate: Can't wait. Eight PM. I'll pick you up.
Aria pocketed her phone and returned to the celebration. Sienna immediately pulled her into a conversation about what to wear to the Gala. Bianca appeared with a plate of food and instructions to eat something. Young residents asked about her research methodology.
Normal. Professional. The life she'd built through years of sacrifice and dedication.
But beneath it all, tomorrow night waited. Dante and dinner and whatever truths he was finally ready to tell.
Two paths. Two futures. And Aria standing at the intersection with no idea which direction would lead to happiness or disaster.
She smiled. Laughed at Sienna's joke about finding her a sparkly dress. Accepted more congratulations with appropriate humility.
And tried not to think about Elena's warning.
About how some choices, once made, couldn't be unmade.
About how falling for the wrong person could destroy everything you'd built.
About how sometimes, even when you knew better, your heart made decisions your head couldn't override.
Tomorrow. She'd figure it out tomorrow.
Tonight, she'd celebrate an achievement years in the making.
And hope that whatever comes next, she'd be strong enough to handle it.
Aria left the hospital exhausted but buzzing with residual celebration energy. The parking garage was mostly empty at this hour, just a few scattered cars under flickering fluorescent lights.
She was fishing keys from her purse when the sound echoed through the concrete space.
Sharp. Loud. Unmistakable.
Gunshot.
Aria dropped to the ground on pure instinct, heart hammering, medical training screaming that she should assess for injury even as her brain caught up to what had just happened.
Someone had shot at her.
Another shot. Closer. The bullet pinged off metal somewhere to her left.
She crawled between parked cars, trying to make herself small, trying to remember where the emergency exits were. Her phone was in her purse, somewhere on the ground three cars away. No way to call for help.
A third shot shattered a car window above her head. Glass rained down.
Aria pressed herself against cold concrete, barely breathing, waiting for the next shot that would find its target.
Instead, silence.
Then footsteps. Running. Away from her, toward the exit.
She waited. Counted to thirty. Then fifty. Then a hundred.
Finally, she risked lifting her head.
The garage was empty. Whoever had been shooting was gone.
Aria stood on shaking legs and found her purse. Her phone showed three missed calls from Sienna and a text from an unknown number sent two minutes ago:
Next time I won't miss it. Stop asking questions about your father. Stop seeing Dante Moretti. Or the next bullet finds you. This is your only warning.
Her hands trembled so badly she nearly dropped the phone.
Someone had just tried to kill her. Or scare her. Or both.
Because of her father? Because of Dante? Because she was getting too close to something dangerous?
Aria looked at her car. The driver's side window was shattered. One of the bullets had punched through the door.
If she'd been thirty seconds earlier, if she'd already been in the car...
Her knees gave out. She sank to the ground, back against a concrete pillar, and tried to remember how to breathe.
Someone wanted her scared. Wanted her to stop whatever she was doing.
Which meant she was doing something that threatened them.
But what? She was just a surgeon. Just a doctor who'd fallen for the wrong man and happened to overhear a conversation about her mother's death.
Except maybe that was enough.
Maybe asking questions was dangerous. Maybe loving Dante was dangerous. Maybe everything about her life right now was a powder keg waiting for a spark.
And someone had just lit the fuse.
Aria pulled out her phone with shaking hands. She should call the police. Should report this. Should do the safe, responsible thing.
Instead, she called Dante.
He answered on the first ring. "Aria? What's wrong?"
"Someone just shot at me." Her voice came out steadier than she felt. "In the hospital parking garage. Three times. They missed but—" Her voice cracked. "Dante, someone just tried to kill me."
"Where are you right now? Are you hurt?"
"I'm okay. I'm still in the garage. They ran. But they sent a message. Said to stop asking questions about my father. Stop seeing you. Or next time—"
"I'm ten minutes away. Don't move. Don't talk to anyone. I'm coming."
"I should call the police—"
"You should wait for me. Please. Ten minutes. Can you do that?"
Aria looked at the shattered car window. At the bullet hole in the door. At the celebration invitation still clutched in her other hand.
Two hours ago, she'd been celebrating the biggest achievement of her career.
Now she was sitting on a garage floor after someone had tried to kill her.
"Ten minutes," she whispered. "Hurry."
"I'm already driving. Stay on the phone with me. Talk to me, Aria. Keep talking."
So she did. Told him about the celebration. About the award nomination. About Elena's warnings. About everything except how terrified she was.
Because admitting the fear made it real.
And Aria wasn't ready to accept that her life had just become a war zone.
Not yet.