LUCY MONROE - The Italian's Suitable Wife

“What happened?” she asked.

“They didn’t tell you?”

“I hung up before his brother had the chance. Getting here seemed more important than getting details,” she admitted.

“He was shot saving a woman from a mugging.”

“He was shot?” The only bandages she saw were on his head.

“It was just a crease—” the orderly pointed at the white gauze strips “—along his cranium, but he fell into oncoming traffic and was hit by a car.”

“The bruises?”

“Were from the car.”

“Is there any lasting damage?”

“The doctors don’t think so, but we won’t know until he wakes up.”

There was something in his voice and her head snapped around. “Tell me.”

“The nature of some of his injuries could result in temporary or permanent paralysis, but there’s no way of knowing for sure until he comes out of the coma.”

“Where is the doctor?” She wanted more information, more than the opinion of an intern, no matter how knowledgeable he might be.

“He’s making rounds. He’ll be in to see Mr. DiRinaldo in a little while. You can talk to him then.”

She nodded and turned her eyes back on Rico, immediately forgetting the intern was in the small cubicle. There was only Rico. He’d filled her world for so long, the prospect of a life without him in it made the pain she’d felt upon his engagement pale into insignificance.

“You have to wake up, Rico. You have to live. I can’t live without you. None of us can. Your mother, your father, your brother…we all need you. Please don’t leave us. Don’t leave me.” She even forced herself to mention Chiara and his upcoming wedding. “You’ll be married and on your way to being a papa soon, Rico. I know that is what you want. You always said you were going to have a houseful of children.”

She’d hoped with the naïve dreams of a girl that those babies would be hers, but she didn’t care if Chiara was the mother, Gianna just wanted Rico to live. She kept talking, pleading with him to wake up, not to give up and she told him over and over again how much she loved him.

She was holding Rico’s hand and willing him to come out of the coma when the doctor came by later.

He examined Rico’s chart and checked the electronic monitors by the bed. “All his vital signs look good.”

“Isn’t there anything you can do to wake him up?” she asked, her throat raw from swallowing tears.

The doctor shook his head. “I’m sorry. We’ve already tried stimulants to no effect.”

Her hand tightened on Rico’s unmoving one. “I guess he’ll just have to wake up on his own then. He will, you know. Rico’s got more stubborn genes than a Missouri mule.”

The doctor smiled, his tired blue eyes warming a little. “I’m sure you’re right. It’s my opinion, having family around does its part, too.” His tone was censorious, but she didn’t feel it was directed at her.

“His parents and brother will be here as soon as humanly possible. It’s a long flight from Milan, even on the fastest private jet in the world.”

“I’m sure you are right. It’s too bad his fiancée couldn’t see her way to staying.”

“Chiara is here, in New York?”

“Miss Fabrizio was contacted at her hotel. She came in and became hysterical at the sight of him, furious he’d risked his life for a woman too stupid to know not to walk alone at night.” This time the censure was blatant.

“But why isn’t she here?” Perhaps Chiara had stepped out to use the facilities or something.

“She stayed for about an hour, but when we informed her he was in a coma and we didn’t know how soon he’d come out of it, she decided to leave. She left a number to call when he wakes up.” There was a wealth of disgust in his words.

“She must be really upset.” Gianna looked again at Rico’s motionless countenance and had no trouble understanding his fiancée going to pieces over it. She couldn’t imagine leaving his side, but then everyone dealt with fear in their own way.

“She’ll sleep fine tonight. She insisted we prescribe her an oral sedative,” the doctor added.

Gianna nodded absently, once again focused almost entirely on Rico. She rubbed the skin of his hand with her thumb. “He’s so warm. It’s hard to believe he isn’t sleeping normally.”

The doctor made some comments about physiological differences between coma and normal sleep that she only half listened to.

“Is it all right if I stay?” she asked, knowing it would take an orderly for each arm and one for her legs to get her to move from Rico’s bedside.

Laughter rumbled in the doctor’s throat. “If I said no?”

“I’d sneak back in wearing scrubs and a mask and hide under the bed,” she admitted, amazed she could find any humor in a hospital room with Rico lying broken in the bed.

“As I thought. Are you his sister?” the doctor asked.

She felt the blood rush into her cheeks. Should she lie again? Looking at the understanding light in the doctor’s eyes, she didn’t think she would have to. “No, I’m a family friend.”

Speculation flickered briefly in his expression before he nodded. “I won’t tell if you won’t. It’s obvious you care. Your presence can’t hurt and may very well help enormously.”

Relief swirled through her bloodstream. “Thank you.”

“It’s all about what’s best for the patient.” The doctor exited the cubicle thinking it was a pity his patient wasn’t engaged to the tiny woman who obviously cared so much instead of the gorgeous Amazon with a heart like a rock.

Gianna was only vaguely aware of the doctor’s departure as memories of Rico assailed her. She picked up his hand. It was heavy and she kissed his palm before laying it back on the bed, her own covering it.

“Do you remember the year Mama died? I was five and you were thirteen. You should have hated having me tag after you. Andre called me a pest often enough, but you didn’t. You held my hand and talked to me about Mama. You took me to Duomo Cathedral, such a beautiful place, and told me I could be close to Mama there. It hurt so much and I was scared, but you comforted me.”

She suppressed the memory of how different it had been a year ago when her dad died. Rico had been dating Chiara then and the other woman had no time for Gianna and had made sure Rico didn’t, either.

“Rico, I don’t want comforting now. Do you hear me? I want you to get better. I thought nothing could hurt more than when you announced your engagement…but I was wrong. If you die, I don’t want to go on living. Do you hear me, Rico?” She leaned forward, her head resting against the strong muscles of his forearm. “Please, don’t die,” she pleaded as tears once again bathed her skin and his.

She was dozing when a familiar voice repeating her name woke her up.

“Gianna? Wake up, piccola mia.”

She lifted her head from its resting place by Rico’s thigh. Sometime in the last five hours, she had lowered the bedrail and settled her head beside him. She needed the physical contact as a reminder that Rico was still alive.

Her eyes slowly focused as she blinked in the subdued lighting of the ICU cubicle. “Andre, where are your parents?”

He grimaced. “They left only two days ago on a cruise aboard a friend’s yacht to celebrate their anniversary. Papa insisted on complete privacy and secrecy. They won’t be back for another month and I know of no way to contact them. Rico was the only one with that information.”

He left unsaid the obvious. Rico was in no condition to share his knowledge with them. Her insides twisted when she thought of the reaction Rico’s parents would have to the news of their son’s accident and Andre’s inability to reach them.