Reign A Romance Anthology - Nina Levine Page 0,121

and see one of them running toward us from the entrance of the building. I see Alessandro step between me and Anastacia just as she fires the gun.

Two gunshots crackle in the air around us, but they are quickly swallowed by the noisy New York street.

The security man dives for her, tackling her to the ground before she can fire a third.

But the damage is already done. Alessandro reaches out and sags against me before sinking to the sidewalk, his eyes wide and unfocused, with a bright red stain spreading across his white shirt.

I scream.

Anastacia screams.

Both of us screaming for different reasons.

But Alessandro is silent.

His eyes close, and within seconds his chest becomes still.

24

Bella

There was nothing they could do, he says.

Despite their attempts, he died in surgery and they could not save him.

The surgeon gives me the news in a private room, and I fall against him before slipping to the cold, linoleum-covered floor.

Alessandro Lastrantonio died at 10:58 p.m. Six hours after he was shot.

The surgeon helps me to my feet and guides me over to a row of plastic chairs where I wrap my arms around myself and try to brace for the pain. Imogen appears moments later and gathers me into her arms while I stare lifelessly at nothing.

I’m so numb I can’t even cry.

Minutes float by.

I want to see him, but I am told that I can’t, and I don’t even hear the reason why because my mind feels soupy and slow.

I’m so lost I don’t even know what to do next.

Imogen takes me back to the penthouse and my heart disintegrates into a billion tiny pieces when I walk through the front door and see our home. Everything looks so normal, so familiar, yet everything has changed. Alessandro’s scent lingers in the air, and it’s like I can feel him all around me.

“Have you been able to get a hold of Cristian?” I ask, dazed.

“No, I haven’t been able to reach him. But I’ve left messages.”

I ring my father who is out of town on business. I don’t cry. I barely manage to speak. And when it is all too much, Imogen takes my phone from me.

The evening drifts by. The phone rings, constantly, but every call is shielded by Imogen because I don’t want to talk to anyone. And I don’t want to see anyone either. The only other person I agree to see is Ari. When he arrives, he takes me in his arms and holds me tight before taking my face in his hands and saying, “Fuck.”

The three of us sit at the dining table. Imogen makes me eat, but it’s pointless because I bring it up minutes later. Ari slides a tumbler of scotch in front of me, but I leave it untouched.

I’m dazed. They talk but I don’t really hear what they are saying. It’s like I’m outside of my body watching this nightmare happen to someone else.

It’s all over the news. The King is Dead. Imogen and Ari try keeping me from watching it but fail. I need to watch, hoping it can help me make sense of it.

When I see the mobile phone footage taken immediately after the shooting showing Alessandro bleeding and unconscious beside the limousine, my eyes burn with tears. It’s followed by grim footage of Alessandro’s pool of blood on the sidewalk, and in my chest my heart bleeds its last drop of blood.

Unable to stand it, I grab the remote and turn off the television.

The media is having a field day, and tomorrow it will be even worse. They’re already outside, getting ready to pounce the moment I, or anyone else, leaves this building.

Feeling numb, I go to bed, and somewhere in the cold, early hours of the next morning I finally fall asleep with one of Alessandro’s shirts pressed against my cheek so I can smell him.

But I don’t get much sleep. I awaken with the sun as it rises over Central Park, and for the briefest moment, I forget. But then it all comes back to me, and the grief settles into my bones like a heavy, black cloud.

He is gone.

And I am alone.

Despite my fatigue, my mind races, reliving those last few moments with excruciating detail. The sound of my name being called. Anastacia’s wild eyes and the desperation on her face. Alessandro taking the two bullets meant for me. Agony twists in my stomach, yet I still don’t cry.

It’s not until I visit the bathroom and see my reflection that it