Chapter 77 Stay with Me
❦ Rosalind ❦
I jolted awake with a cruel sense of falling from a great height, the wind tearing at my skin and swallowing my screams.
I immediately knew something was wrong.
Clutching at my throat, strangely raw from my dream-state screams, I frantically glanced around the large penthouse suite I’d slept in.
Memories of yesterday slammed into my skull with surprising clarity, and I whined, a wounded sound that surprised me.
Still dazed and confused, my heart pounded to the rhythm of a far-off beeping tone that felt like a bomb timer going off.
Then I felt the buzzing. It was coming from underneath my pillow.
Yanking the pillow up, I found my phone, ringing and buzzing insistently.
I inhaled a shuddering breath to calm myself and laughed softly at my hysteria, an obvious sign of stress.
I should take a spa day; God knows I deserved it.
The name on the screen made my heart stutter.
Adrian.
Was he calling to warn me off divorcing his don? I scowled at the thought. If he thought they could bully me, he was in for something ugly.
“Hello?” I said sharply.
“I’ve been calling you all night. Where are you?”
Wondering what business he had with my whereabouts, I answered guardedly.
“Why?”
“Viktor had a serious accident. He’s in the hospital.”
Nausea hit me with such force I almost lost my grip on the phone.
“W-What?”
I listened as he said something about texting me the address and to stay put while he sent bodyguards to escort me.
My head buzzed. My chest heaved.
An accident? He was just here.
I scrambled out of bed to my closet, picking out the first shirt and pants I touched.
Halfway through dressing, I froze.
What if this was another ploy?
No.
Viktor could have forced my hand the previous night he’d been here. And he certainly wouldn’t stoop so low as to fake an accident for my attention. Besides, he’d already agreed to a divorce. This was real.
He was hurt. And he needed me.
The ride to the hospital was one of the worst drives I’d ever endured, the other being the night I arrived in New York and had been taken by Marcus to identify Papa’s body.
My prosthetic finger warmed with frantic spinning motions, left and right, popping it off completely and fixing it back, as if I could undo the hurt accompanied by losing the people I loved.
I never got to attend Mama’s funeral, else my worst trips would have amounted to three.
As soon as the car doors opened at the large hospital, I jumped out to find Adrian waiting at the entrance.
“What happened?” I asked the moment he was within earshot.
Struggling to keep up with his fast strides, I peered up at his face. Jaw clenched, eyes murderous, a general air of rage wafted off him.
“There was an attack at one of our storage spaces in Red Hook. I offered to pick him up at the hotel, but he seemed agitated and eager. He went alone, and I came across the wreckage of his car along the road.”
My hand flew to my mouth at my gasp.
He’d been agitated after our argument yesterday, and I couldn’t help feeling it was my fault.
“Is he alive?”
“Barely,” Adrian clipped.
“How bad?” I choked out, almost stumbling at how fast we were walking.
My heart seemed halfway up my throat already.
“Head trauma and second-degree burns.”
“Burns?”
“His car caught fire. I don’t know anything else.”
I focused on the hallway, trying to control the urge to scream.
I counted four suited soldatos taking positions in front of a room. More casually dressed men lounged nearby. I recognized them as undercover bodyguards.
The air, charged with danger and the sterile tang of antiseptic, buzzed like a live wire.
At the room door, a man with silver-streaked hair and a clipboard, evidently a doctor, watched as we approached.
He stepped aside, following behind us when we entered.
I gasped for the second time, my eyes immediately prickling with tears.
Sinking into the seat beside Viktor’s supine body, my limbs vibrated as I gently intertwined my fingers with his.
His entire upper face was wrapped in thick white gauze, the only exposed parts his mouth and neck.
Tubes ran from his mouth and nostrils to transparent bags hanging from a drip stand, and my heart wrenched even more.
“How is he?” I whispered.
“Mr. Marino suffered significant trauma to the head. We managed to get the swelling under control, but we won’t know if there will be any lasting damage until he is conscious.” The doctor said.
Each word was like a stab to my soul. He didn’t deserve this.
“When do you think he’ll wake up?”
“It’s hard to say until he’s out of recovery.”
After a tense silence filled with my shaky breaths, the doctor silently left the room.
Viktor’s hand was too cold, and I wondered if the cold temperature of the room was to blame. I turned to ask Adrian, but he was already facing me with words on his tongue.
“The car was totaled, but there’s evidence that some dents may have happened before he crashed.”
Dread coiled around my lungs, my brain struggling to catch up.
“What does that mean?”
“It means someone pushed him off the road. Based on the tire marks, probably two vehicles. Looks like someone may have rear-ended him while another vehicle hit his side.”
My heart skipped a beat.
The trafficking syndicate. The shooter at the restaurant.
Someone tried to kill my husband.
The low beep from the monitors spiked suddenly, and my stomach dropped as I watched the machine pulse.
The beeping only accelerated, each sound hammering at my chest. I leapt to my feet.
“What’s happening?!” I cried.
Adrian didn’t answer. He stepped closer, eyes locked on the monitors like he could figure out what was wrong.
“Get the doctor! Anyone!” I shouted, panicked.
Adrian bolted out the door, calling for help.
Beside me, Viktor’s chest jerked violently, his fingers clutching mine with a sudden, crushing strength.