Anatolij grips my shoulder. “He’s right. You should rest. We’ll go back to my house.”
Sitting around in the waiting room for the better part of the night won’t do me any good. Carlton will call with updates, so I bob my head, kiss Layla, and step aside. They push her bed down the corridor into an elevator.
Now that Carlton’s here, the incessant whooshing in my brain subsides. She’ll be okay. There’s no other option. She’s too important to die. Her life won’t end today or any time soon. I’ll die first as a punishment for years of sins. Years of extortion, racketeering, and murders. The scams, ruthlessness, and arrogance.
They say a bad thing never dies... I hope, at least in part, that’s true because I look forward to a long, happy life with Layla.
Exhaustion hits me square in the gut when we leave the hospital, where a black limousine waits outside. Half an hour later, I collapse on a large bed in the room Layla had slept in for the past few weeks. Snow-white sheets, soaked in the sweet smell of her skin, lull me into a false sense of security. With the phone set to the loudest setting, I let myself sleep.
***
I’m jolted upright by an incoming call. A quick glance at an antique clock on the wall confirms I was flat out for six hours. Wide awake, muscles harder than steel, I slide my thumb across the screen.
“She’s fine,” Carlton says, smart enough to put my mind at ease in the first second. “It was a clot. I almost can’t blame the doctor here for not spotting it. We did the surgery, and her vitals improved massively. She’s still unconscious, but I’ll gradually reduce the meds now.”
I get up, sleep the very last thing on my mind. With good news comes new strength, a new dose of courage. “Does that mean she’ll be okay?”
He chuckles lightly. “Did you dare to doubt my skills? Of course, she’ll be okay. Forty-eight hours from now, you’ll be able to take her home.”
I clench my fist, then bite on my knuckles, my heart ramming against my ribs. “Thank you. I owe youeverything,Carlton. I’ll be there soon.”
“You owe me nothing. Don’t rush. It’ll take a couple of hours before she wakes up.” He cuts the call.
The castle is dark and quiet twenty minutes later when I exit Layla’s room after a quick shower. My footsteps ricochet off the stone walls, booming down the staircase. A glint of light shimmers in the living room, halting me on my way out the front door.
“I thought you’d be asleep,” I say, finding Julij at the table, a half-full glass of whiskey in his hand.
He lifts his drunken head, unfocused gaze on my face, fire burning in his usually cold, blue eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
He downs the rest of the glass. “She’s mycousin,” he clips, pulling a cigarette out of the packet. Two seconds later, a cloud of gray smoke fans my face. “You fuckingknew. You knew all this time, and you let me fall deeper in love with a girl I can’t ever hope to be with.”
“You never should’ve hoped.” The satisfaction I expect to get out of this moment doesn’t arrive. He’s so heartbroken I actually feel sorry for him. “Layla’s mine. She’s been mine for a long time now. You had no right to think she could be yours.”
“I’d never act on it while she’s with you!”
“But you were waiting for us to fall apart so you could swoop in and make her fall for you, right?”
Anatolij enters the room wearing the same suit he wore the previous evening. “I think you had enough, Julij. Go. Sleep it off.”
“Don’t tell me what to do!” He takes a few unsteady steps in my direction. “You won at life, Dante. Don’t you dare fuck it up. I take care of my family. You can be goddamn sure you’ll end up six feet under if you hurt her.”
Sensible, smart words. Not what I expected. Especially not in the state he’s in right now. He loves Layla almost as much as I do. I expected nothing short of a row, but not for the first time, Julij proves there’s more to him than his father’s legacy. I can see our friendship growing stronger over the years and lasting a lifetime.
“I assume you’re awake because Carlton called,” Anatolij says. “How is Layla?”
“He removed the clot. She’s fine. More than fine, actually. Carlton says she’ll be good to go home in two days.”
“She’s an Aristow after all. A fighter,” Julij mumbles, stumbling out of the room.
“You go ahead. I’ll freshen up and follow you to the hospital,” Anatolij says as his phone starts ringing.
And before he answers, mine’s ringing too...
“I’m at the airport in Moscow,” Morte says, his voice strained. He probably walked through fucking hell and back.
That makes two of us. We’re on the same boat. Both worried sick, prepared for the worst, ready to unleash our demons on one another. “Someone’s waiting for you. He’ll bring you straight to me.”