An Italian on the run from the Mafia. A reporter seeking the truth. Will they reveal their feelings before danger strikes?
*****
Reclusive writer Luca Ross...
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I felt his kisses on my hand and arm before I opened my eyes. I stretched, hoping to wrap my arms around Luca, then felt stiff, achy and...oww.
Pain. In my shoulder and down my arm.
"Amore mio," Luca whispered, kissing the back of my unhurt hand, then my palm, then my wrist. "Amore mio."
I didn't say anything, just looked groggily around the hospital room. It was half-dark, and a machine behind me beeped.
Luca's face registered concern. "Can you speak? Are you okay? Do you need anything?"
"I'm...in pain. But yeah. I can speak. What...? Where...?"
"Shhh, Sky. You're safe. We're safe."
"I'm really tired," I murmured.
"It's the drugs. Just go back to sleep."
"But," I said, struggling to keep my eyes open, "are you leaving?"
Luca moved forward and brushed his lips over mine. "No. I'm not. I'm yours. I love you. As long as you want me, I'm yours."
"What if that's forever?" Had I thought that or said it aloud? My brain was so foggy.
He kissed me again. "That's what I'm hoping."
I smiled and closed my eyes. Then opened them again to see Luca staring at me, concerned.
"Luca?"
"Yes, amore mio?"
"You're everything I once thought I didn't want. Or didn't need. But now you're everything I need and the only thing I want."
I slipped back into a deep sleep.
* * *
My mind was clearer the next time I woke up. Emily sat in a nearby chair, reading a magazine, and her eyes got wide when I grunted.
"Dude, you're awake!" I moved to the edge of the bed, breathless. "How do you feel? You were stabbed!"
I grimaced. "How do I...? Wait. Help me sit up."
"Don't move. Here." Emily pressed a button on the side of the bed and shifted me into a sitting position.
"Thanks. That's better. I feel okay, actually. How long have I been here? Been asleep?" I glanced down at the injured shoulder. A thick bandage covered the skin, and I couldn't move my right arm much at all. How was I going to type and work? Little pinpricks blossomed on the skin under the dressing and I wanted to dig my fingers into my flesh and scratch.
"Let's see. Everything happened Saturday afternoon, and it was now Sunday afternoon. You had surgery to repair the tendon in your shoulder, then they stitched you up. Fed you some good drugs. Oh, and I gave you blood."
"Huh?" I shook my head, bewildered. It seemed as if every time someone spoke, a new weird detail was revealed. Luca had said something surprising at some point overnight, although I couldn't remember exactly what.
