Bloody City: Deviants

Chapter Five

The next morning I was helped into a wheelchair by Carmilla and wheeled out of the hospital towards one of the Range Rovers used by Alessio's security, Lino also stood nearby leaning against another of the vehicles while I looked down at the sutured bullet wound so that it could heal properly, though ten days for a wound to heal was a reasonable time for the size of the bullet.

Alessio himself stood watching me from the side of his car with remorse in his eyes, like he was blaming himself that I'd been shot to begin with, even if it had nothing to do with him, and more to do with, the fact he was a threat to dozens of people across the criminal underworld, and him having me as his wife meant a target.

Pride was the destroyer, my mother would say, when she'd warned me of what men outside of our coveted family in the Mafia were like. Now I saw it as a necessary evil when the act of solution in this world, in this life was owning any fault as one's own and proving themselves again. Something that Alessio, as Don of the Familia had done dozens of times, and wouldn't likely want to do again when it ultimately came down to it, but would, because the only guarantee with Alessio was that his pride would always mean results of his role as Capo Dei Capi.

"Arianna," he says approaching me and his shadow blanketed me, along with the smell of him, and the heat that he gave off. I'd seen more then one mafia member attempt to act like they were emotionless. With him it was a public view but he had never shied from showing that he did care for the people in his care. Made or not.

I could also see the three guns and knives attached to him, telling me wherever he was going he was either expecting a fight, or the attempt of one, worrying me since I knew my parents were still in Genoa which was the sole reason he'd been coming into the city, was to talk to them about the assassination. My father wouldn't have done anything against Alessio, the two of them got along far too well for that to even be a possibility, and my mother knew that going against Alessio would mean the Valentino Familia would be cut from having any power in Italy, or worse.

I'd occasionally forgotten that no one challenged Alessio openly for the sake that he always found them and consequences were typically brutal, and carried a harshness that no one endured.

"Alessio," I say breathlessly as he cupped the side of my face and brushed my cheek with a thumb that felt rough but gentle, an aftermark of the fights he got into.

"You look beautiful," he says into my ear as he took over the transportation of me to his car, the sleek pearlescent body work giving a faint silver glimmer to the paint.

"I have a gunshot wound through my abdomen, and my hairs messy. I look like shit," I laugh and striking pain shoots through me. The wince crushing my facial features.

"You are still the most perfect woman in Italy, now no laughing, I don't like seeing you in pain. Matteo might have to stay out of the house so the stitches don't reopen," he says and I glance up at him.

"If I have a gunwound through my body, how am I meant to go to the bathroom?" I flush crimson at my question and he stares down at me with tightly pressed lips.

"A laxative for the next few days. Then I'm to give you a ton of vitamins to make sure your body recovers properly," he explains quietly so no one else hears.

"Please tell me you're not going to watch me when I have to use the bathroom for the next week," I say peering up at him and without missing a second he replied.

"As much as I like seeing you naked, I'm not going to use a situation like this for that. And I will stand outside the door until you need me to help you back up. I'm not willing to embarrass you and have paraplegic bars installed in our bathroom for ten days," Alessio replies as we reached the car.