Loretta pushes past me and blocks my father from opening the back door before leaning over and pulling the handle for the passenger door.
“If you say some dumb shit about the sick elderly man needing—”
She interrupts him with a quirked brow and the fearless attitude I lost my heart to.
“You’re his father. You get the front seat. Father always trumps side piece.”
For the first time since I became an adult, my father pierces me with a scathing look. He keeps his eyes locked on mine as he speaks to Loretta.
“A side piece stays in the pocket. That’s not what you are, girl, and if that’s what my son led you to believe, then it must be time for me to use mine on him.”
I hold eye contact with him until I grab Loretta’s shoulder. She grunts and resists, but I push her into the front seat and pull the seat belt over her lap. I snarl and wrap my fist around her braid when she reaches for the buckle.
“He’s right, gattina. I should let him add to my collection of scars. This is where you belong, right beside me. Capisci?”
She covers the yearning in her vibrant green eyes with pure obstinacy but drops her hands into her lap and grinds her teeth.
I click her buckle into place and steal a kiss. She balks, but when I nip her bottom lip in reprimand, she opens her mouth and invades mine. My head spins, and with a few demanding strokes of her tongue and her fist in my hair, she takes control of the kiss and nearly tips me over the edge when she bites my bottom lip.
I pull back and study her flushed face before smirking and brushing the escaped tendrils of hair back, silently promising to repay her the first moment I get her alone.
Mio papà shuts his door.
I give her a peck on the forehead before closing her door and walking around the trunk to the driver’s side. Neither of my passengers says a word as I drive out of the parking garage, but the tension in the vehicle shifts as time goes on.
Loretta steals a few furtive glances at my father in the rearview mirror, but she stops when he seems to be peacefully watching the city through the window. I catch his amused, wistful smile after she looks away. He shifts his gaze to mine and sends me a loaded glare and nod through the mirror. I return his nod, confirming my stance and vowing to make her fully mine as soon as possible.
He accepts and dismisses me by turning to his window.
When several minutes—and hospitals—pass, Loretta sends me a glance. In less than a second, she conveys all the emotions bottled up inside me. It’s torture to keep important information from the people you love, especially when it concerns a terminal illness of someone you all cherish.
Fuck, mia gattina understands me too well.
How did I ever survive without her? I lower my hand to the center console and challenge her to accept with the tilt of a brow. She sighs and slips her hand into mine before turning back to her window without checking my father’s reaction.
He never shifts his gaze from the window, but a smirk plays over his profile, so he must see our joined hands through a reflection on the pane.
I park in front of the main entrance of the private hospital and scan the area, intending to wait for the nurse to bring a wheelchair, but my father opens his door.
Loretta makes it out of the car faster than he does and offers him her arm. To my delight, he takes it and leads her into the hospital. She preserves his pride by shortening her stride and dragging her feet, making it appear she’s the one slowing them down. With her sweats draped around her soft curves and my father’s masculine frame in a suit, the pair couldn’t be more different, but their closeness as they walk arm in arm gives them an air of authenticity. If I hadn’t seen them meet for the first time today with my own eyes, I wouldn’t believe it.
Loretta looks over her shoulder at me as they pass through the double glass sliding doors. She tilts her chin toward the parking lot as she links her arm more tightly within my father’s, indicating she’ll watch over him while I park the car.
Which is both sad and endearing. My father has always been the strongest man I knew, so to see his body failing him while his mind remains sharp leaves a sour taste in my mouth.
He hides it well, but he’s already winded from walking a few steps. Loretta shortens her stride further and talks as though a one-person conversation is normal between them, and I wish I could hear what she was saying.
My curiosity spurs me into parking the car and stalking through the front door as quickly as possible without causing trouble.
We’re far from Russo territory, and although Giorgio Vivaldi—the don of this area and the new owner of this hospital—knows we’re here, the last thing I want to do is ruffle feathers. My father doesn’t want the Russo family to know of his illness, and starting shit with Giorgio, who is also Nico’s pregnant wife’s brother, would be the quickest way to oust him.
When I enter the lobby and don’t see my duo, I send Loretta a text and stop in front of the directory. After finding the practice my father has an appointment with, I head to the stairs instead of the elevator, but a commotion near the restrooms draws my attention.
I glimpse Loretta’s shoes as someone drags her into a smaller hallway. Without hesitation, I lunge into a full sprint, pouring all my power into my legs, and knock over two people as I beeline straight for my woman. When I turn the corner, she clings to the doorframe of a room halfway down the hall, fighting with everything she has to prevent them from closing her in alone.
My steps falter when two familiar figures step out of the service elevator and stalk toward the room Loretta is fighting for her life in.
Giorgio Vivaldi and Fiero Capito stop in their tracks when they notice me. I skid to a halt. Their glowers intensify.
Fuck, they saw Loretta on their security cameras and think she’s her stepsister. I was an idiot for not including her information when we spoke.
“That’s not Julieta,” I snarl.
Fiero scoffs and steps toward the room, but Giorgio grabs his shoulder.
“You brought this woman with you?” Serenity’s brother scowls.
When the sounds of scuffle change and Loretta’s feminine voice echoes into the hall on a grunt, I push past Fiero and dart into the room.
Pain blasts through my stomach and all the air whooshes from my lungs as a small fist punches me right in the gut. I stumble and catch myself on the nearest chair, but my diaphragm seizes and I can’t breathe.
Loretta’s worried voice breaks through my pain, and I push away the instinctual panic and suck down a stilted breath when my muscles finally relax. When her tone hardens and she says a few threatening words as she presses her back to mine, delight and frustration spear through me. She’s squaring off with Giorgio and Fiero. On my behalf.
Mia gattina is too fierce, too perfect.
I cough and suck down a full breath before turning and capturing her in a bear hug. With her arms trapped to her sides, she lifts her leg and jams her heel into my shin.
I grunt only because I know it’ll be black and blue later, but with my legs permanently numb from the knee down, it doesn’t hurt.
“Calm down, Loretta. These are not men you want to face off with. You won’t win in or out of the ring against them,” I growl.
She wriggles but clenches her hands at her sides, plants her feet firmly on the ground, and forces herself to calm down. When she leans against me, I give her a squeeze to assure myself she’s okay.
The two goons lying on the floor don’t move. Giorgio eyes them skeptically and kicks one guy’s boot. The dude snorts and turns his head before falling silent again.
Fiero stands closest to us with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes trained on Loretta. I tighten my arms around her. She doesn’t complain.
“Show me your knuckles,” Giorgio demands of Loretta.
I hiss in annoyance and try to push her behind me, but she elbows me in the same place she just punched and holds her hands in front of her shoulders with her fingers splayed and her palms toward herself.
My woman has no surrender.
And no common sense.
Fiero chuckles and runs his hand through his hair.
“Hey, boss man, it’s okay. I wouldn’t believe she knocked them out cold either if we weren’t right outside the door,” he says.
Giorgio props his hip on the counter and gives her a once-over. I grit my teeth and remind myself Giorgio is happily married. His attack was toward Julieta Giordano, a woman on every man’s shit list. That conniving bitch will start wars just to increase her body count. No man worth his power will allow a woman like that to traipse around in his territory.
“Loretta, huh?” Giorgio says.
She crosses her arms over her chest and nods.
I snarl and wrap my arms around her when the fabric of her sweatshirt pulls tight over her gorgeous breasts. For the first time all day, I regret denying her a bra. These are mine and only mine.
It doesn’t matter that both men have their own lady. I don’t want any man’s eyes on my woman.
“I saw you yesterday,” she says to Fiero.
His eyes widen.
“You work at the clinic that got shot up,” he recalls.
She nods and leans back against me before asking, “Did you get married yesterday? Was it your bride who tore her wedding dress and used it for bandages?”
“Yes, that’s my wife, Emma,” he says.
The pride in his voice echoes what I feel for Loretta, and a pang of yearning tightens my arms around her.
“I fell in love with her at first sight,” she blurts out, and I stare at the top of her head as she continues like a teenager gossiping about their crush. “She was so calm and competent, and I totally geeked out afterward and offered her baby wipes when she was just trying to find some peace and quiet, so she probably thinks I’m a nutcase, but…” she trails off with a shrug and reaches behind herself to grab my pants as though realizing she went too far.
“Definitely not Julieta,” Giorgio mumbles.
He shakes his head and rises from his lean on the counter.
“I’m sorry, Loretta. When our security system scanned your face, Julieta’s information popped up and sent the guards a warning. We were upstairs, so we came down to see for ourselves,” Giorgio says.
Loretta’s shoulders relax, but she doesn’t let go of my trousers.
“Shouldn’t he be on his honeymoon?” she asks with a tilt of her head toward Fiero.
“My wife’s here for a prenatal checkup while the boss lady is setting up a new pediatrician for her brother,” Fiero answers.
“Oh. Congratulations! I didn’t realize she was pregnant. She looked stunning in her dress,” Loretta says.
“I’ll let her know you think so, too,” he says with a smirk, and even though his attention is on thoughts of his wife and not mia gattina, jealous fury roars through me.
I stiffen. Loretta tightens her fists, pulling the fabric of my trousers tight around my thighs.
“We’re here for Ermanno’s father. He started coughing up blood, so I sent him into the restroom with a male nurse,” she says.
Which meant she was standing alone in the hall when the goons nabbed her.
After a weighted pause, Giorgio shifts his gaze from Loretta to me. The questions swimming in his eyes demand answers, but all I can give him for now is a simple, “She’s not a threat. I’m handling it.”
He offers a small nod of acceptance before motioning for Fiero to lead the way out of the room.
“I don’t know, boss man. She took out two men twice her size. Maybe you should take her to the gym next time instead of me. I’d pay to watch that sparring session,” Fiero says as he saunters into the hall.
“Not a chance in hell,” Giorgio snarls.
“Afraid you might lose?” he chuckles.
With one last glance over his shoulder, Giorgio assesses the men on the floor before meeting my stare.
“It wouldn’t be a fair fight,” he says.
Fiero tsks and shakes his head as he nudges his don’s shoulder.
“And why’s that, boss man?”
“Because it wouldn’t be against only her. She has a boxing partner already,” Giorgio finishes before stalking down the hall.
When she studies their retreating backs a little too long, I snarl, wrap my hand around her throat, and lower my lips to her ear.
“Let go of my trousers before I use what’s in them to teach you not to look at other men,” I growl.
Instead of letting go, she splays her fingers over my thighs and squeezes. My cock jerks. Her delicious vanilla scent fills my nostrils. I nip her ear and flex my digits around the delicate column of her throat before releasing her.
The men rouse. I pull her against my side and slip my hand around her waist as I exit the room.
“How bad was my father’s coughing fit?” I ask.
“It wasn’t good,” she says.
She wraps her arm around my lower back and stays plastered against my side as though she understands how much I need her.
Because I do. With every person who learns of my father’s illness, the more real it becomes, but I don’t need to tell Giorgio and Fiero to keep this quiet. They understand my father’s reasons for keeping it a secret.
I don’t want to say goodbye to him. Not like this. Not with the helplessness threatening to choke me.
With Loretta by my side, I can face this head on, knowing my father won’t worry about me in the afterlife. He can reunite with mia mamma and watch me with pride as I build my family and maintain his legacy.
I need to marry Loretta Giordano as soon as possible. Not today. She’s been through enough and my father’s body can’t handle more after his appointment. He won’t be able to accompany us to the courthouse.
Tomorrow I’ll make mia gattina my bride.
No matter what it takes.
