Page 17
I open my mouth, but her withering look shuts it. Who could have guessed that kindergarten teacher authority holds more weight than guns in this villa?
“Marco, you either let me handle that, or I’m telling Enzo you’re too hurt to perform your duties.”
From any other person, the tame threat would have caused me to dig in my heels, but I’ve come to understand that Sophia’s mothering and obsessive nature stems from her caring personality and also her pregnancy hormones.
Izzy’s laugh follows us down the hall as she trails behind us. “Whipped by the padrino’s wife. How the mighty have fallen.”
The compound’s medical clinic is spotless. Cabinets are stocked with supplies to treat everything from a stubbed toe to a stubbed kidney—à la surgery—because we don’t usually visit hospitals for our injuries. Well, we aren’t supposed to.
The only reason I was taken to one was that Sophia wouldn’t hear of anything less after I took the knife meant for Enzo. With our regular doctor away, Enzo caved too.
Once I’m on the stool, I lift my shirt, and Sophia cuts away the soaked gauze with practiced hands. She’s always said a big part of her tenure as a kindergarten teacher involved kids running to her with cuts and scrapes.
“You’re reopening it every time you train.” She starts cleaning the wound, her touch soft as she concentrates on swabbing the damaged skin.
“Occupational hazard.”
She hums. “I called the doctor yesterday to ask about your medical status.”
My jaw drops. “Why would you do that? And how did you know you contacted the right doctor?”
She stops cleaning for a moment and stares me down. “I did it so I could stop you from doing stupid things like this and lying about being okay. And yes, I got the right doctor. Lucia Romano, right? From Ashford County Hospital? She seemed angry with you.”
My heartbeat stutters. “She’s always angry.”
Sophia’s lips quirk. “Well, beneath the anger…she also sounded concerned.”
“You’re reading too much into it.”
“Now I know you’re bleeding through and reopening wounds because a woman got under your skin,” Izzy adds from the sidelines. She’s been sitting on another stool in the corner, watching the entire scene unfold.
I roll my eyes and stare at the ceiling while Sophia tapes fresh gauze in place. I’d rather not go down that road with the astute, ruthless Izzy.
“You can want a life beyond your job, Marco. Enzo did.”
I swallow hard. The words land heavier than they should.
“Dr. Romano left me her personal cell number.” Sophia keeps her tone casual, like it doesn’t matter. “Asked that we ensure you’re following her post-care instructions.”
My head snaps up. “She gave you her number?”
“Mm-hmm. And requested that we give her regular updates.”
She and Izzy share a look, but I ignore them. Why would Lucia leave her number with Benedetti channels to check on me after demanding I stay away?
Sophia clears her throat. “You should call her.”
“She told me to stay away.”
“And you always do what women tell you, right?”
Before I can respond, Nico appears in the doorway, his tablet in hand. He glances from one woman to the other and grumbles. “Marco, we need to get to Padrino.”
I thank Sophia, slip off the stool, and follow the consigliere out. “What’s the problem?”
He pauses to put a hand on my shoulder. “About your doctor… Here, check this out.”
He turns his tablet toward me and taps play on a clip of security footage. An apartment building fills the screen, but my gaze locks on the dark sedan with Russian plates across the street.
