Dujar glances at his men. For a second, I think he’s going to give us the code. But then, licking his lips, he looks right at Dani and says, “Fucking bitch—”
I pull the trigger without hesitation. The bullet pierces into his skull, sending him flying backward into the wall. Artan just steps aside to leave a path for him to fall. The Albanians stand up a little straighter at their boss’ death, some of them clenching their fists. But none of them fall into the blind fury that Dujar was threatening. No, these men care about their lives.
“The code,” I repeat. “Or this is going to get really fucking nasty.”
Artan tells me the code, and Dani punches it in. I push the Albanian through the elevator doors at the last second. I was planning on keeping him the whole time, just in case they follow us. But I have to get rid of him, because I can hardly stand anymore and I don’t want him overpowering Dani.
When the door has shut, I collapse against the mirror, heaving, streaking blood down the glass.
“Shit,” I whisper, slumping down. My head sags heavily. I don’t have much longer. “Shit, Dani. I can’t …”
“Angelo,” she whispers, shaking my shoulders. “You have to stay awake. You have to help me get you to the ambulance. Angelo, Angelo—”
But I can’t. My eyes fall shut, even as I try more than anything to open them, to stand up.
A strange vision comes to me as I sink into unconsciousness. I see Mother and Father in the kitchen, dancing like they always do.
Then I walk in and offer my hand to someone unseen. Dani steps forward and places her hand in mine, her belly swollen with our child.
The four of us—five, really—dance together, laughing.
And then everything goes black.
30
Angelo
I drift in and out of consciousness for a long time.
Much later—at least that’s what it feels like—I wake up to see that Dani and my parents are sitting next to my bed. Dani has tears in her eyes. “He’s awake,” she says.
But then whatever medicine the doctors are pumping me with kicks in again, and I fall right back asleep.
It goes on like this, a sick sort of carousel, over and over, until, finally, I wake up properly. It takes a few moments for my eyes to blink the unconsciousness from them. Even then, everything still feels like a dream. It is just my mother and father now.
“How long have I been out?” I ask drowsily.
“Eleven days.” My father’s eyes are solemn. “You almost died, son.”
“Where’s Dani?”
My mother hands me some water. I take it, hand trembling, as I sit up in bed. Everything hurts. I manage to bring the water to my lips and sip slowly. “She’s on her way,” my dad says. “She’s pretty damn angry with me. I told her to go and get some sleep in the break room. The second she does, you wake up.” He grins ruefully. “We’ve had a fair amount of time to talk since you’ve been out, Angelo. She’s one hell of a lady, and she loves you more than life itself.”
“What happened?” I croak. “Is the baby—”
“Dani’s fine,” he assures me. “The baby’s fine.”
“Give me the rundown. What have I missed?”
“The police showed up soon after you got in the elevator,” Father says. “So the Albanians were forced to run. Apparently, they stashed your butler in one of the bedrooms. And things got so hectic they forgot about him.”
“Thank God.” If they’d remembered him in the mayhem following the fight, they might’ve had the wherewithal to use him as a hostage. I have no doubt that they would’ve done so if things had gone on just a little longer.
“Where is he now?” I ask.
“Back in England,” he replies. “He asked if you would mind if he gave his notice while you were unconscious. I hope you don’t mind, but I told him yes.”
I shake my head, even that small movement making me ache. “What else?”
“The Albanians are gone,” Dad continues. “Dujar’s death left a power struggle, and the Bostonians have been arriving almost nonstop to pledge their loyalty to us. They want us to know that Giraldo was acting on his own.”
I nod. “And Madolina?” Even if Levi was a rat, my belly gets tight thinking of the way Dujar unceremoniously dumped him over the balcony. He was my brother in everything but blood, my best friend. “She’s not … dead?”
“No, son. I put her on a flight to Rome. She said she wanted to visit her ex-husband. The loss of a son—it can be… very difficult to bear.” He glances at my mother, who seems content to just hold my father’s knee in one hand and my fingers in the other. Her eyes are full of tears, though she is smiling.
I sigh. That knot of emotion left in the wake of Levi’s death will take a long time to untangle. It’s easier to think of the enemies who almost took everything from my family. “Fucking Albanian rats,” I mutter, thinking of Dujar. “You know he had Dani and the undercover EMT carry Levi’s body back up to the apartment, don’t you?”
My father nods slowly. “Levi’s fall is what brought the cops running. In the end, it saved you both.”
“But having her brought there to carry the corpse.” I shake my head in disgust. “He must’ve known that would draw the police.”
He shrugs. “You were only up there for about fifteen minutes, apparently. In this city, with these response times? He probably thought he’d be long gone, taking our empire with him.”
Fifteen minutes? I think back to the hell in the penthouse, hardly believing it was so short a time. But time does funny things when all hell has broken loose.
My throat aches suddenly. I drink more water and sit there next to my parents in silence.
“There is something else,” my father says after a few moments. He glances at my mother and tightens his grip on her thigh. “It is time.”
“Time?” I ask in confusion. Whatever drugs have been coursing through my system don’t seem to eager to leave me clear-headed. It takes a moment before I understand what my father is telling me.
“Your father is ready to retire,” my mother explains.
I don’t know what to say. This is the moment I’ve spent my whole life waiting for. But now that it is here… I don’t know what to make of it. Everything feels flat and muted and just wrong.
“Just like that?”
“Just like that,” he confirms with a twinkle in his eye.
I feel a surge of sudden guilt. “Father, I must confess something.” In quick, halting words, I tell him about how Dani is not really my wife, about Levi’s scheme, about how I hired her to trick him.
He says nothing until I am done. But when the last words fall from my lips, to my surprise, he laughs. He looks to my mother, and she too begins to chuckle.
“Answer me this, son,” he says. “Do you love her?”
I don’t hesitate to answer. “Yes.”
“And does she love you?”
“Yes. Or she did.”
“Then tell me this—fake or not, what difference does it make?”