Acrobat (27 page)

She was shaking, and I felt her squeezing my hand then, so tight in hers.

“Mel?”

She cleared her throat. “Somebody stabbed you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“So you know, since I’m the emergency contact on the back of your license, they called me.”

“Oh shit, I’m sorry.”

“No!” she snapped. “Thank God you never changed it, and don’t ever do it in the future. I always want to be first.”

“That’s not even reasonable.” I chuckled, but there was suddenly so much pressure that I froze, having to suck in my breath.

“Yeah, don’t do that, don’t laugh. Just lie there, okay?”

“It doesn’t hurt exactly,” I told her, looking down but only seeing blanket. “Can you lift this up so I can see?”

“No.” She scowled. “There’s nothing to see. There’s a bandage over a stitched-up wound. You’re going to have one hell of a scar.”

“Awesome.” I grinned.

“I’m going to beat you when you’re well,” she gasped before her voice cracked and she started to sob, facedown on my forearm.

Oh crap. I had scared her. “Honey,” I soothed her, trying to pull my hand away so I could touch her head.

“Just lay there!” she roared, sitting up straight.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said softly.

She cried, and I was still and quiet, and when I finally told her I was thirsty, she got me some ice water to sip.

“What happened?” I asked her.

“You know what happened.”

“I mean after.”

She sniffled, letting my hand go so she could blow her nose, brush her hair back from her face, and wipe at her wet cheeks with a tissue. She was adorable with her red nose and puffy eyes, her breathing finally under control. “The man who did it, he just left you in the street, and I know you hate that guy Sanderson, but I’m sending him a fruit basket and flowers and whatever else he wants for a week. He wants to get laid, the escort is on me.”

“Gross,” I grumbled, squirming to sit up.

“Don’t move or you’ll tear your stitches!”

I grunted. “So when can I go home?”

“Tomorrow or the next day. They have to make sure there’s no infection and make sure the antibiotics work and that your insides are okay.”

“The guy who did this,” I told her, “he wasn’t trying to scare me. He was trying to scare Dreo.”

She nodded. “I know. You were saying that when they brought you in. You were talking about Dreo.”

“Where is he? Is he here?”

“He was here earlier, but he left.”

“Oh.” I was disappointed.

“He stayed until we all knew you were going to be fine. He promised to be back later.”

I squinted at her. “What?”

She sighed deeply. “He left, and right after that, Duncan did.”

“Duncan was here?”

“Oh yeah.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. “Mel?”

She stood up and started pacing. “Jesus, Nate, it was a mess. I got here and the police were here, and it looked like Duncan and Dreo went at it and beat the shit out of each other. Dreo was bleeding, Duncan broke his own wrist when he hit Dreo… I mean, do they both know what’s going on with you?”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean, who do you love?”

Jesus, what kind of question was that? “I just woke up from being stabbed!” I rasped.

“Nathan James Qells! Who do you love?”

“Mel—”

“Just answer the—”

“I’m hurt and—”

“Nate! Who do you love?”

“I—Dreo!”

Silence.

I looked at her.

She stared back with huge eyes.

“Shit.”

Her smile spilt her face. “Really?”

“I… shit.”

Her laughter was warm and rich and bubbling with happiness. “Ohmygod, Nate!”

Leave it to her to extract the truth.

“Oh honey, finally. You’re finally in love.”

How in the world it had happened so fast I had no idea, but I was just… blindsided.

“I’m going to call him and tell him to get his ass back here right now.”

I nodded. “Yeah, tell him that,” I said as a monitor started to sound.

“Nate?”

She was blurring suddenly. “Call the OB, Mel, and the Realtor. Don’t forget, Jare needs a status update, okay? Tomorrow. You have to make those calls.”

“Nate!”

Her face, the way it contorted, I knew she was screaming, I just couldn’t hear it. And then everything faded to nothing.

I
ROLLED
my head, and there was a stunning woman sitting at my bedside. I knew who she was, it just made no sense. Maybe I was still asleep.

She smiled.

I decided to speak to my hallucination. “Mrs. Fiore.”

Her smile was really something. It changed her face from cold, hard matriarch to gorgeous Hollywood icon. I understood that her son had inherited the transformative power of a simple smile from his mother. Her eyes were just absolutely pools of warm chocolate and… oh man, I was stoned.

“Hi.” I smiled at her.

“
Buonasera
,” she greeted me.

“Oh, I love that song,” I told her, laughing softly, unable not to.

Her brows lifted. “I do too.”

I cleared my throat. “Where is everyone?”

“They had to eat. My son, my grandson, his girlfriend Danielle, that woman—yours—she is…
bellissima
.” She smiled.

“Yes, she is,” I agreed, knowing we were talking about Melissa.

“Her husband is very handsome as well. They are lovely together.”

I nodded.

“But they have to eat. My husband, he took them, he knows a place close to here.”

“And you stayed with me?”

“
Sì
.”

“Why?”

“Because, Nathan—may I call you Nathan?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She leaned forward. “You see, Nathan, I have lost one of my daughters already. Michael’s mother. You know about this.”

“Yes.”

“So I will not lose my son.”

I just stared at her and waited.

“My son,” she told me, “is stubborn. He has always been this way. He makes his mind up and acts. I said, I know your sister wants you to be the one to raise Michael, but she never meant for you to do it alone,
ragazzo
. Move home, I said.”

Her hair, her eyes: really, really beautiful woman.

“But no, Dreo, he goes to see his friend Sal instead and takes a job working for the worst kind of man, a man my father would have forbade him from even speaking to.”

“Is your father still alive?”

“No, he died shortly after I moved here from Palermo.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago.”

I smiled as she lifted a cup of water off the table for me, angling the straw to my lips so I could drink.

“It was beautiful there, in Palermo. I still miss it.”

“When did you move here to Chicago?”

“I met Mr. Fiore on holiday in Rome. My father, he didn’t like Anthony, but me, I liked him.” She grinned wickedly, her eyes shining.

“It was a love affair.”

“
Sì
,” she agreed, sighing deeply. “Still is, so I came with him to America.”

I was enjoying listening to her talk even though I did need to find out things. Like the date, for starters.

“I have been in Chicago many years, and Dreo’s father and I have raised a family, and I was always very happy, but… when my daughter died, I would have followed her into the grave if not for the others, my daughters—I have three—and Dreo, and especially for Michael, her son.”

“He’s a great kid.”

“
Sì
, but you know this more than I, as you are the one Michael loves. You are the parent he chose after his mother passed.”

“Dreo’s his parent.”

“Dreo is more like a big brother than a parent. I can see this for myself.”

“What happened to his father?” I said to try to change the subject.

“His father is from a rich family. He left Mona as soon as he knew she was pregnant.”

“What a dick,” I said without thinking, because the stop block between
think it
and
say it
was not working at present. Whatever was dripping into my veins from the IV hanging above me was fabulous.

“I agree.” She laughed. “And you are qualified to say, Nathan, as I have recently learned that when you got a woman pregnant you married her even though you are gay.”

I grunted.

“You are a good man to put your own needs behind those of your child. One cannot help but be impressed with you.”

“Oh yeah?” I beamed up at her.

Her hand slid over my cheek as she looked down at me. “
Sì
.”

“So you, uhm, like me?”

The soft laughter was even better than the smile. “I do, and though I do not understand my son loving a man, I cannot fault his choice.”

Loving?

I coughed and hacked, and as she patted my knee and gave me more water, I heard the lilting words but didn’t understand.

“
Caro
,” she soothed, “rest. You love him, my son. I know you do.”

“How do you know?” I asked when I could breathe, sipping the water, breathing hard.

“Because you were the one who figured out that Joey Romelli was trying to hurt Dreo by killing you. It makes sense to me. You don’t hurt the man; you make him suffer by taking away that which he lives for. This is how a vendetta begins. But it doesn’t end with you dead, because Dreo would make sure that it didn’t. And then what? Then Joey comes after my Michael next? No no no, it’s good that you are so smart and you figured it out. Dreo is lucky to have you.”

I was so lost.

“Go back to sleep, rest. You need your strength.”

“Will you tell them all I was awake?”

“
Sì
.”

It was so weird. I should have asked a million questions, but I could not for the life of me. I could only close my eyes again.

“Are you going to let Dreo come over for Thanksgiving?” I asked, even as my eyes dipped closed.

“Yes, and you too, Nathan Qells.”

God, how long had I been out?

I
T
WAS
dark when I opened my eyes, but enough light was coming in around the drawn curtain for me to see the room. Enough so that I could see Dreo Fiore asleep in a very uncomfortable-looking chair beside my bed. He was in jeans and a sweat jacket under a black leather motorcycle jacket. The beanie on his head was very cute; the stubble on his cheeks, above his lip, was hot. There were curls sticking out from under the cap, and his socked feet were on the edge of my bed. The man was a vision of exhaustion and hunky male animal. My heart hurt just looking at him.

“Baby,” I said instead of his name, and I caught my breath and prayed he hadn’t heard it. I needed to let him sleep.

He nearly fell out of his chair.

“Nate,” he gasped, feet sliding off the bed, his body jerking forward as he stood suddenly, eyes wide and blinking and no more awake than he had been seconds ago.

“Hey.” I offered a small smile.

“Oh.” His voice broke, and his hands were on my face as he bent and gave me a kiss.

It slammed through me, that simple, amazing, hot kiss that made my entire body clench and twitch all at the same time. He made love to me with his mouth, his tongue rubbing over mine, letting me taste chocolate and clove and him. I felt him tremble, and my cock jerked under the blanket. The roll of desire as I shivered made him smile as he leaned back, our lips parting slowly, with great effort.

“Oh please no,” I whimpered, reaching for him. “Kiss me again.”

There were tears in his eyes, and I saw then that they were bruised and so was his face.

“What happened?”

He shook his head, more upset than I had ever seen him, even more than he had been after Mr. Romelli’s death.

“Who hit you?”

“It doesn’t matter.” He sighed, straightening up and letting his head fall back in relief. His hands scrubbed his face as he laughed softly.

I remembered something Mel had said. “Oh God, did Duncan hit you?”

“Yeah,” he snapped, “and I hit him too, fuckin’ sonofabitch.”

He was tense and frustrated and angry and… I had just woken up. That was my excuse for being slow.

“You were fighting over me.” I chuckled.

“Why is that funny?”

“Well, for starters, because it’s stupid. What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that we were both pissed.”

“Why?”

“Because you scared the shit outta me.”

The man was a frustrated, grouchy mess. He was adorable. “You were worried about me,” I whispered.

“I was more than worried,” he growled to the ceiling, still not looking at me. “Fuck.”

“Dreo.”

He turned his head, dark eyes locked on mine.

“I’m okay, right?”

He nodded.

“And?”

“And nothing.”

“Tell me.”

“I don’t—”

“Dreo!” I said sharply.

“I just got you!” he barked. “What the fuck, Nate? You just gave me a chance and either you were gonna die or ditch me as soon as—”

“Back up,” I soothed him. “You thought I was going to die?”

“You got some kind of infection from the fuckin’ knife the bastard used! I mean, they finally get the bleeding stopped and get you all sewn up and then suddenly your heart is enlarged with an infection and… and then you’re more hurt then they first thought and—”

“But I’m fine now.”

“And Michael is freaking out because he lost his mother, right, and he’s pissed at me because I brought this on you, and he—”

“But I’m okay.”

“And your fuckin’ ex is here yelling at me that it’s all my fault and I’m gonna get you killed because—”

“Dreo.”

“I’ve never been that scared!” he howled. “Never!”

I stared at him.

“I just got you,” he repeated softly.

“I’m okay,” I assured him. “Where’s Michael?”

He took a breath. “He’s outside. Everyone’s outside.”

“Who’s everyone?”

“Fuck, Nate, everyone.”

The man really did look terrible. He was wrung out, and as he stood there, his forehead leaning into his hand, trembling, I got that I had really frightened the holy crap out of him.

“Hey.”

No movement.

“Andreo.”

His head came up slowly.