Sharon
He was alive.
Sharon pressed a kiss inside of his palm and held it to her face, finding it hard to believe that Vittorio had survived the beating, a bullet in his leg, and broken bones. He was acting like it wasn’t a big deal, but he didn’t remember the way she had seen him, with blood all over him and barely breathing. He didn’t know she had cried all the way to the physician’s home, holding his hand and begging him not to leave her. He hadn’t seen her sit in the chair beside his bed, praying that he would recover and open his eyes, when everyone had thought the worst about his recovery.
But, now, none of that mattered. Vittorio was awake and though a little worse for wear right now. He would recover.
“I’m sorry,” she forced out, willing her tears to stay at bay for now. “It was all my fault.”
Vittorio shook his head, causing pain to etch across his face.
“Fuck no it wasn’t. I caused this all to fall down on my head. I taunted him, Sharon, until he’d had enough and came after me, not you. If anyone is to blame, it’s me.”
She rubbed his hand between hers, her eyes drifting to the cast that was on the other hand. The doctor had said it would be a month or so before they truly knew the damage to Vittorio’s wrist. His ribs would heal, as well as the bullet hole in his left calf. By the looks of things, his concussion hadn’t caused any lasting effects.
The bruises and cuts would heal.
“Quit looking at me like I’m fucking broken in half.”
Her eyes drifted back to his and she could see the anger starting to build.
“You are broken in half my love. You nearly died, Vittorio.”
His jaw clenched, and he looked away.
“I feel so fucking helpless right now. Every fucking spot on my body hurts like hell.”
Sharon smiled. Her patient was beginning to become a cranky one.
“Give yourself a few more days and then maybe we can leave the bed. You need rest, Vittorio.”
“I need to bury myself in you, Sharon.”
She laughed, unable to help herself and pressed a hand lightly on his chest.
“Soon.”
He gave her a look, clearly not happy that he couldn’t do it at this moment.
“Marcello said you stayed.”
Sharon nodded.
“I told you I would. I’m not going anywhere.”
He cleared his throat.
“I dreamed about you, you know, every night that you were gone. I… fuck, I didn’t want to leave them because that meant I would wake up fucking alone, and I was fucking scared I would never see you again.”
Tears clogged her throat.
“I’m sorry. I should have never left, Vittorio.”
He made a sound.
“It don’t matter anymore, but I wanted you to know I never gave up. I was going to find you and, until Rocco stuck his nose in your business, I was going to leave you alone if you were happy. It was selfish of me to keep you in that penthouse like that, Sharon. I forced you to do everything I wanted, and I shouldn’t have.”
Sharon was floored. Had he hit his head harder than they thought? This wasn’t her tough, brutal mob boss. This man was… well, just a man confessing to the woman he loved.
Reaching over, she pressed her lips carefully to his.
“I don’t care. I want to be with you, until we leave this earth and I hope it’s a long time from now. I love you and all that you are, Vittorio. I’m not going anywhere, no matter how scary you get.”
“Shit,” he mumbled against her lips. “What did I do right in my life to deserve you?”
A smile crossed her lips.
“I don’t know but I am glad you did it.”
Vittorio laughed then groaned as Sharon straightened, pressing her lips against his good hand.
“You need to rest.”
“I’m tired of fucking resting.”
She shook her head, blowing a kiss to him as she crossed the room.
“I will come check on you in a bit.”
He didn’t say anything as she exited the room, pulling the door shut behind her.
Marcello was waiting in the hallway.
“How is he?”
Tears sprang to her eyes as she looked at Vittorio’s best friend, a sob escaping her throat before he pulled her into a hug, something they had done quite often over the last three, horrible days.
He was going to make it. All her prayers, her tears, had worked.
She wasn’t going to lose him.