Monster A Dark Arranged Marriage Romance - Vanessa Waltz Page 0,87

their fingers. Shaking, I grabbed my phone and called 911. I choked on my words as crimson soaked through the fabric in seconds.

“Christian,” Tony pleaded, his bloody hand cupping his face. “You’ll be all right. Help is coming. Don’t die on me.”

“It’s fine. I’ll see my wife.”

“Fuck off with that shit! You’re not going anywhere but the hospital.”

The moment seemed suspended in time. With every half second, Christian faded. His lungs rose and fell slowly. His forehead smoothed. His skin paled. The fingers clutched in my grip slackened.

“Christian! Christian,” shouted Tony, his scream ripping through me. “Don’t give up. You saved my life.”

Christian’s lips twitched as he gasped for air.

“Don’t waste it.”

Thirty

Tony

2 oz bourbon

3/4 oz lemon juice

3/4 oz simple syrup

Garnish: Angostura bitters

Don’t waste it.

Christian’s words haunted me as I sat beside Evie in the waiting room, removed from his inconsolable family and Vinn, whose low, calm voice carried to our corner.

“Christian has the best doctors looking after him,” he assured a slender woman. “He’ll get the red blanket treatment. Mrs. Bianchi, this is Alessio Salvatore. He’s on the board of this hospital. He’s here to make sure your son gets everything he needs.”

My old college buddy stepped forward, shaking Mrs. Bianchi’s hand. After a few minutes, Vinn bowed out of the conversation. His scalding gaze scanned the rows of chairs and struck me. Glowering, he headed to my side. His forbidding glare seemed to have zero effect on Evie’s biker friend, who shot upright, blocking Vinn’s path.

“How is he?” demanded Jennesy.

Vinn ignored her. “We need to talk.”

I nodded and stood, walking with him a short distance away.

“He’s alive. In a coma.” Vinn rubbed his stubbled jaw. “Anthony, I don’t want that biker bitch hanging around. She has to go.”

I glanced at Jennesy, who glared at us. “There’s no harm in letting her sit here. Christian could use the support.”

“Don’t tell me what he needs, you selfish piece of shit. It’s your fault he won’t survive.” Vinn slammed his palm into my chest. “I hope your dinner was worth it. Fucking junkie. This is a new low for you.”

I’d never be anything else to this asshole.

“I’m tired of repeating myself, so I’ll make myself clear. I am sober. I made the reservation under a fake name. Our guards were at the table beside us. They weren’t paying attention. The shooter walked right up to us!”

He shoved me again, dislodging the last of my patience.

I sank my fist under his ribs.

Vinn dropped, gasping. He was like Ozymandias, staring at me like he could hardly believe I had it in me.

“I’m not an easy target anymore. Hit me, and I hit back.”

He shot me a look full of bile as he staggered upright. “Good. Gives me the perfect excuse to finally get rid of you.”

“You don’t scare me, Vincent. Everybody thinks you’re a hardened criminal but you’re just a sad, jealous little boy who hates me because I have the one thing you can’t buy—a direct line to the throne.”

Alessio grabbed Vinn as he launched at me. “Anthony, that’s enough!”

“Not nearly enough for this judgmental prick!”

“Anthony, for fuck’s sake. Stop. He’s the boss.”

Eviscerating Vinn was effortless. He’d had a hard-on for me ever since I could remember, because I had the good life and he had nothing. I had the girls, the money, the expensive cars, everything the dipshit wanted.

Apparently, it didn’t matter that I shared the wealth. It must’ve killed him that I still had veto power over his business, which was ironic because I didn’t want to be a don.

“If Christian dies that blood is on your hands.” Vinn’s chest billowed under Alessio’s outstretched arm. “Get that girl out of here. Or I will.”

Fine.

I hated him, but his wintry disapproval sliced me to the bone. Without another word, he left and rejoined his captains. I ignored the hollow in my stomach and approached the girls.

Jennesy had smudged her makeup with the same filthy tissue, and the sight of it somehow dissolved my anger. I took out the packet of tissues I’d bought in the pharmacy for Evie and offered it to her.

“Thanks,” she whimpered, burying her sob in Kleenex. “Is Christian—?”

“He’s in a coma. Might not make it through the night.” I grasped her forearm and she stood, blinking rapidly. “I’m sending you home with my associate, Rafael.”

“But I want to stay here.”

“The Family doesn’t want you here, hon. I’m sorry. It’s not up to me.”

The anguish twisting her expression told me she understood. She nodded. “You’ll keep me updated?” she