My Future Husband

Chapter 14

He’d never let me serve her, seeing her smile is his one luxury in life, but kindness radiates off her.

I try to move my fingers, try to do anything to let them know I can hear them, but I can’t move. They're shouting in Italian and English, both being translated poorly in my head as it starts to spin.

“Will he survive?”

“I do not know, something is not right with this entry...it is not bleeding as it should be. As if there is a barrier protecting his mind.” Fuck, there us.

I was shot once before. I was seven years old and walking home from school, caught a stray bullet to the skull from a drive-by. I don’t really remember it, just waking up in the hospital with my sister crying and my mum screaming at the doctors.

They told her it was a flesh injury, that I was lucky, I had a surface fracture on my skull, and a chunk of it missing, but it wasn’t fatal. Mostly I was concerned if I’d have a nasty scar to impress girls with.

Mum wasn’t having any of it, she told them I was already jumping off my bunk beds pretending to be a wrestler, that they needed to put something in to protect my head, so they put a protective plate over the fracture.

Titanium, she only wanted the best.

“The family, the one he found himself on the wrong side of, was it the Russo’s?”

“I believe so.” There’s movement again, hands letting go of my head for a moment before they're back again. “What are you doing? He is not dead.”

Fabric lays over my face, and I’d recognised the scent of it anywhere. It’s Marco’s apron, big enough to be considered a blanket as it covers my body.

“Keep your voice down!” She whisper-shouts at him. “The man standing at the back of the crowd, he is a Russo, he lives in the vineyard across from mine. He has likely been sent to see for certain the boy is dead, we must make them believe that he is if he is to survive.” Sofia drapes me in the apron, sobbing loudly and convincing everyone around that she's just lost a patient.

Damn, she's good.

Everything else becomes a haze, I feel my body being lifted into the ambulance, listen to Sofia giving instructions to different people, hiding my identity, doing everything she can so nobody leaks back to the mafia that I’m alive.

Before finally, everything fades to black again.

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TWO DAYS LATER

“Where am I?” The words are clear in my head, but what comes out of my mouth is more an incoherent mumble.

“Maybe he has lost the ability to speak from his injury? It would not be the worst thing, I believe many of the husbands in the village would be happier if he were no longer able to use his silver-tongue on their wives.” What is this man’s problem with a little flirting? Just because he can’t talk to the woman he’s captivated by without turning into a puppy, doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t enjoy a bit of lustful banter. I’ve never had any complaints.

“Kage?” Sofia’s soft voice draws me back, my eyes fluttering open slowly, to be greeted with the fluorescent lights of the hospital above. “There you are. Don't try to move, you've been in a coma since the operation, but it is still very important that you do not move your head.”

Coma? I’ve been in a coma?!

I realise there’s barriers either side of my head to stop it moving anyway, but the throbbing in my skull still fucking kills.