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I eye him carefully. “Ideas for…?”

“Ways to win him over, after the initial shock.” He points to the plate. “Eat up. We’ll go to his house tonight after your shift, assuming that works for him.”

“Sooner is better, I suppose.” That reminds me. “Just remember what I said about his heart. We have to take it easy, so can we make sure the shock isn’t too bad?” I bite my lip. “Actually, maybe you should just let me handle it?”

“We’ll both be there to break the news, Sylvie. He should know his new grandson respects him.”

Right now, I don’t know what I know.

All I know is I came to Minnesota to take care of Nonno.

If this crazy predicament I’ve gotten myself into winds up hurting him instead, I’ll never forgive myself.

I’m on pins and needles during my entire shift.

Everyone notices, especially when I turn into Nurse Butterfingers, dropping things every two seconds.

Syringes, gauze, trays, you name it.

The full bedpan that splatters on the floor isn’t a joy for the maintenance staff.

Holy hell.

I keep watching the clock.

As much as I love my job, I know what’s waiting for me the second I get off.

This time, I can’t stay late.

I have a death sentence that involves my husband and a family dinner.

Rebecca, one of the head nurses on my shift, notices as I’m trying to clean up a mess of blister packs with pills I dropped.

“Are you okay, Sylvie?” she asks. “You look a little rattled today.”

“Oh, I’m fine. Just… tired.” I fake a yawn for effect.

She moves closer.

“Okay, well, you know you can talk to me, if you’re having any trouble. At work or off the job,” she says.

I smile. She’s so sweet and understanding.

Too bad she’d never be able to comprehend an instant marriage with a violent man I just met five seconds ago.

No one would.

God, somehow it sounds even more ludicrous now that I’ve had a little time to digest it. This whole thing is cray cray.

The second my shift ends, I dash to my locker, grab my things, and rush out, hoping no one sees me as I make my way to the sleek Escalade idling in the front roundabout, just steps from the sliding doors. The only good news is I didn’t have to walk through the parking garage.

One of his beefy minions springs out of the front passenger seat to open the back door, but before he can reach it, I rush over, open it, and throw myself in, slamming the door shut behind me.

“Ready! I didn’t want to put him out.” Breathlessly, I buckle my seat belt and look at Luca, who stares at me with amusement.

As the vehicle pulls away, he squints to look out at the hospital doors I just emerged from.

“Who were you running from?” Luca asks.