HIS

Chapter 29

It's always the sound of beeping that pulls me out of sleep. The pain in my upper torso is unbearable—it feels like it's radiating through my chest. The last thing I remember is being at the club, dancing and meeting Domenico's friend and his wife. Then the gunshots rang out, and everything went black.

I didn't want to move a muscle—I had no idea where I'd been hit. So, I slowly opened my eyes. Domenico was sitting in a chair beside my bed, his head down, typing on his laptop and biting his bottom lip. Just like he did the last time I woke up in the hospital.

"I wouldn't mind biting that lip myself," I say with a smirk, staying completely still—too afraid to move.

"Olivia, how are you feeling? Are you in any pain?" he asked, setting the laptop down on the chair beside him. Then he stood up and gently cupped my face, examining it closely. It struck me—he looked like he was in more pain than I was. Was he hurt too?

"Are you hurt?" I asked softly.
"No, I'm okay," he replied.

"I'm sure my breath is awful right now, but I need a kiss before you call the doctor," I say, looking at him expectantly—already knowing he won't say no.

He bent down and gave me a nice smooch on my lips which is accompanied by a panty dropping smile when he was done. Obviously, I'm grinning and happy to be alive and have another day afforded to me to still be with him.

"Where was I shot?" I asked, diving straight into the questions.

"You were shot just below your collarbone. Fortunately, the bullet missed any vital organs—it was removed, and the wound has been treated," he said, setting the laptop aside and meeting my gaze, as if trying to read my reaction. "I found the shooter. It's taken care of. You don't have to worry about that anymore."

From the look on his face, I can already tell there's more he's not saying. Telling the person who took the bullet that "it's been handled" isn't enough—I need real answers. But now isn't the right time. Once I'm discharged, we'll need to have a proper conversation.

It was the next day, so I hadn't been unconscious for very long. I was discharged just two hours after waking up and given pain medication to help manage the discomfort. Thankfully, I didn't need a cast or a sling. The wounds will leave scars, but the doctor said plastic surgery could almost completely remove them.

When we reached the house, I stripped out of my clothes and got into a much-needed shower and my man also joined. He doesn't pass on an opportunity to be pressed up against my naked body. He made sure my body was being cleaned on the parts I was not able to reach, then we got out and relaxed having the lunch we ordered earlier on the couch, until the girls and guys came to visit us. The whole time Domenico looked very sad and dejected. I know it's probably because it happened at his club, under his watch and that he was not able to protect me from the shooters.

Domenico led them into the lounge, and I was warmly embraced by both Kate and Camilla.
"How are you feeling, doll?" Kate asked with concern.

"Much better," I replied with a smile. But as I looked at them, their somber expressions made it clear—there was more to this story than they were letting on.

Domenico was speaking quietly with Luca off to the side, but the frustration on his face was unmistakable. Whatever Luca had just told him clearly didn't sit well—he kept running his hands through his hair every few seconds. Even Max, who's usually reserved and unreadable, wore a tense expression.

I decided to put everyone on the spot. "Spill," I said, and all eyes snapped toward me. "I know you're keeping things from me, thinking I'm too fragile to handle the truth. But please, just tell me before I burst an artery. I don't want the sugar-coated version—I want the real story. Please and thank you."
I glanced at Domenico, who was rubbing his forehead between his thumb and forefinger—a clear sign he was stressed. Very stressed.

Domenico and Luca exchanged a look before Luca cleared his throat and began to speak. "Last night's shooting was a targeted hit—they were sent to take you out. Someone hired them, and Max's team is currently working to track down who's behind it."

I turned to Domenico, a bit stunned. "What did I do—and to who?" I asked.

"We caught two men last night," Domenico began, "and one of them had a phone that seemed to be used solely for this mission. It was almost empty—just a few messages. The sender was either requesting updates or sharing our location. We tried to get information from them, but they refused to talk, and honestly, the chances of them ever cooperating are slim. For now, we're keeping them alive in case we can extract more details."

He paused before continuing, "We know they're part of a group that hunts and kills for money—an underground gang, based on the tattoos they had. And... we also found a photo of you at school on that phone."

With that final blow, Domenico sat down beside me.

"We were supposed to attend the Mafia dinner tomorrow night," Luca said, "but it's been cancelled. We're heading back home tonight—we have better resources there to track down these people, or whoever hired them."

"Does that include us?" I asked, turning to Domenico. He responded with a silent nod.
"Oh, and we almost forgot one more detail," Kate added, gently stroking my hair. "The people who ordered the hit on you are from America."
I blinked, stunned. "How did you find that out?" I asked, trying to process everything.

"We traced the messages to an IP address in the U.S.," Max said—surprising, given how rarely he speaks. "They tried bouncing it through multiple countries, but we managed to get a solid match in New York."

"You want me to walk back into the lion's den?" I asked, not hiding my disbelief.
"Not exactly," came the reply. "We've got a full team ready to protect you there, and once Max returns, he'll be able to help his unit dig deeper and uncover more leads."

"Could it be my dad or Julia?" I asked, since they were the only ones, I could imagine holding a grudge.
"We can't confirm that yet," Luca replied, though his tone made it clear the possibility was on the table.
"Babe, we're leaving in an hour," Domenico said, standing up. "I'll go pack our things so we can head out," and with that, he left the room.

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After a few hours of travel, we arrived at our home in the U.S., and I headed straight to bed. Domenico left to take care of business and returned early the next morning.

Since returning from Italy two weeks ago, I've been using my time to catch up on schoolwork and submit overdue assignments. One of my professors mentioned that if I put in extra hours, I could actually finish college earlier than expected—so that's exactly what I've been focusing on. I'm not allowed to leave the house without Domenico, though; he's worried something might happen if I go out alone.

Since returning from Italy two weeks ago, I've been using my time to catch up on schoolwork and submit overdue assignments. One of my professors mentioned that if I put in extra hours, I could actually finish college earlier than expected—so that's exactly what I've been focusing on. I'm not allowed to leave the house without Domenico, though; he's worried something might happen if I go out alone.

It's incredibly painful to feel like the one person I trusted with my whole heart is walking away. That's truly what it feels like—abandonment. I've spent most of my life alone, and I had grown used to that solitude. Then Domenico came along and showed me what it was like to have someone to rely on. He made me believe I had someone who genuinely loved and cared for me.

Last night, I went to bed trying to figure out what my next move would be if he decides to leave me—because after going over everything, that seems like the only possible outcome. I keep replaying it all in my mind: from the moment he married me, to the threats that followed, and the near silence since he returned from Italy. It makes me wonder—am I just a burden to him? Only time will tell what the truth really is.

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