by Olivia Deici
The banging on the door below brought me out of my head. Between the unexpected visitor and Dezi barking, my nerves were frayed.
I was turning my head to look at the monitor when I heard his voice and banging again.
“Izzy. Open up.”
I was dumbfounded.
Motionless.
I hadn't heard the deep timber of his voice in a month and I missed it like hell.
I missed him like hell.
I'd picked up the phone so many times to apologize. Like a coward, I’d hung up.
Following my instincts and my basic desire to see him again, while ignoring the idiot in my head who'd told me to push him away, I ran down the stairs and to the door. Opening it up, I saw him half standing and half leaning against the sidewall. When he saw me, he stood to his full height and stared at me as the battering rain fell on him.
“Izzy.”
I took in his appearance and was worried. His face looked pale and there were dark circles under his eyes, which themselves were bloodshot.
What the hell had happened to him?
“I need you baby. I don't care about your past. If you never want to tell me, I don't care. I love you. I miss you.”
His voice was slightly slurred. I looked out and didn't see his car.
“You didn't drive here, did you? You're drunk.”
“I walked here.”
He shivered and that brought me out of my stupor.
“Come in.”
He did and stumbled. That raised the alarms in my head. Someone like Roman fall sick? In the six months we were together, he'd not even had a sniffle. He was quite literally healthier than a horse.
My hand shot out and I felt his forehead.
“Jesus Christ, Roman. You're burning up.”
He held onto the wall, swaying.
“It's been a rough three days, Izzy.” His voice was low. I could hear the fatigue in it.
And hurt?
“Pop’s cancer came back, Marco was arrested, and Diego overdosed. Mom’s a mess.” His breath was shallow.
“When was the last time you slept?”
He was quiet for a moment. “Day before yesterday?”
“Roman!”
“I just want calm and peace. I need you, baby.”
My heart was exploding with emotion. God, I had wanted to see him so badly over the last month. I wanted to hear his voice and to touch him. To hear him say how much he needs me. To tell him how much I needed him.
I know what he must be going through. They all depended on him and things were falling apart. I could not, and would not, turn him away.
Ever again.
I helped him up the stairs. He was weak and it made it difficult. I was less than half his weight.
The doctor in me wouldn't allow the woman in me to panic. I drew a lukewarm bath and helped him in. I hoped that would begin to help his body regulate his temperature.
Grabbing my bag, I went over to check his temperature and vitals. 105. The problem was, I didn't know how long he'd been this high. He had his eyes closed and was shivering slightly.
I was confident that I'd be able to lower his temperature here, but if my efforts were futile, I would need to take him to the hospital. It was dangerously high. While I had a clinic, I didn't have the equipment or supplies an emergency room would have.
In the kitchen, I filled a glass with water, grabbed some Tylenol and apple cider vinegar, and went back to him. I poured some of the vinegar in the bath.
A little science. A little home remedy.
I grabbed some hand towels and soaked them in the bathwater. I applied one to his forehead and one to the back of his neck.
“Roman, drink this.”
His eyes slightly opened. They were glazed. The pallor of his skin had me worried. That and the bruises on his knuckles.
“What happened, Roman?”
I smoothed the hair on his forehead back. He drank the full glass of water with Tylenol and settled back into the bath.
“Just being here…with you… brings peace… to my soul.”
My heart hurt for him. This beautiful, troubled man, who carried the weight of his family on his broad shoulders. This family who depended on him for everything never realizing what it cost him.
I kissed his forehead.
Once the bath chilled, I helped him out and dried him off. In bed, I only covered him with the flat sheet. I sat next to him and he rolled over and wrapped his arms around my middle, his head pillowed on my lap. Running my fingers through his hair, I leaned back against my headboard and fell asleep.
Chapter 39
Izzy
Something woke me. Dezi was on the bed, cozied up to Roman. I knew he’d missed him, too.
It had been a long night. I'd woken up periodically to check his temperature and was satisfied that it had been steadily falling.
I heard it again. Somebody was pounding downstairs. Dezi picked his head up and looked at me, growling. I shushed him and managed to disengage myself from Roman, who still had his head pillowed on my lap. His breathing was even, and I didn't want to wake him. He was in desperate need of sleep.
I stretched my sore muscles and went to the monitor with Dezi by my side. I didn't recognize the man on the screen, but he wasn't exactly looking into the camera. Javier was on duty today, and he must've recognized or vetted him and allowed him by.
I pressed the intercom button.
“Yes?”
The man looked up and I was struck quiet. He bore a striking resemblance to Roman, and had his same blue eyes, too.
“This is Alejandro Zambrano, Roman’s father.”
I sighed. I didn't know what to think about him. He'd had me investigated. He never cut Roman slack.
I wasn't feeling hospitable towards him at the moment. Still, he was Roman’s father and Roman loved him, so this man must have some redeemable qualities.
I walked downstairs and let him in. He followed me up the stairs, with Dezi between us. Once in my living room, we stood in front of each other.
“How can I help you, Mr. Zambrano?”
He looked weary.
“Roman. Is he here? I haven't been able to find or reach him since the day before yesterday.”
“Yes, he is. He's sleeping.”
He sighed and ran a hand down his face.
“I need you to wake him.”
I shook my head. “No.”
“Dr. Laurenti, there's a great deal going on.”
“Yes, I'm aware. Your cancer returned, and for that I am sorry. Marco was arrested, and Diego overdosed. Does that cover it?”
He looked surprised.
“Roman, your faithful and dependable son, came to me last night. He had a fever of 105.”
The alarm on his father’s face smoothed my ruffled feathers. He could treat me however he wanted to treat me, but if he didn't care about his son’s health, treat his son well, or recognize the amazing man his son was, then Alejandro Zambrano was an asshole who wouldn't be welcome in my home.
“I managed to treat it and bring it down to 101. I would have checked him into the hospital had it not ebbed.”
He covered his eyes. “Thank you.”
I waited until he met my eyes. “No thank you needed, Mr. Zambrano. I love your son.”
His gaze centered on me for a few scrutinizing seconds.
“I need to speak with him.”
I shook my head and stepped forward. “I'm going to ensure he gets the rest he needs. There is no way I'm waking him up. You're free to leave and come back, or wait here, but snow crystals will fall in hell before I wake him right now.”
He looked at me carefully. “Most people shake when they see me like I'm the grim reaper waiting to extract my vengeance and escort their souls to hell. You don't seem intimidated.”
“I don't scare easily.”
“Now I see why you bewitched him.”
“I did no such thing. I love your son. I would do anything for him.”
<
br /> “Then why did you break up with me.”
My head turned to see Roman standing at my bedroom door with only a bed sheet wrapped around his waist.
I hurriedly went to him, extending my arm to his forehead. I could tell it took him a lot to stand there. His strength was zapped.
“How long have you been standing here? Get back to bed. Now.”
He smiled at me, and God, how I missed his dimples.
“I heard it all. I couldn't let you face my father alone.” He had a smirk on his face, belying his words.
I pursed my lips. “Roman, get back to bed. If your father wants to speak to you, he can do so at your bedside.”
His father laughed. “Coño, tremendo cojones tiene está.”
I looked at him and a smile escaped my lips. “Yea. When it comes to my patients, I do have big balls.”
Mr. Zambrano’s eyes widened. “¿Habla español también?”
“Si.”
He laughed. Roman's father helped me put Roman in bed.
“I will leave you two to talk, but some warning, Mr. Zambrano. I don't want him upset, since I believe this whole episode was due to high amounts of stress, and little food or rest. Do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal.”
I nodded and left the room.
After about a half hour, I went to the bedroom door because it was time to take his temperature. I inadvertently heard his father.
“You know nothing about her, Romano. Dios mío. You cannot be serious about her until she tells you about her past. She didn't exist before age eighteen.”
I rolled my eyes, steeled myself, knocked, and walked in once Roman yelled out to me. Sitting at his side, I took his temperature and smiled, relieved. 100. I smoothed back hair that had fallen onto his forehead.
“Good. Almost normal.”
He caught my hand and brought it to his lips. I looked at him, deeply into his beautiful eyes, and sighed. I looked over at his father.
“You heard.”
I nodded at him.
“Understand, Dr. Laurenti, I have a right to protect my family.”
I nodded. “You wouldn't be Roman’s father otherwise, but you have no right to investigate me.”
He crossed his arms.
“I am no threat to Roman, you, or your family.”
“I don't know that. We don't know you.”
“Your opinion of me doesn't matter, Mr. Zambrano. My integrity and loyalty will speak for itself in time.”
He looked pissed and I didn't give a rat’s ass.
“Pop, I love her. I trust her. That should be enough for you.”
His father didn't move but I saw a softening in his eyes.
I sighed. “I was going to tell Roman. Since you're here, I'll let you hear what I have to say. Don't mistake this, Mr. Zambrano, as an open-ended invitation into my past and life.”
This man was used to being obeyed. He was used to giving orders. He was obviously not used to being spoken to the way I was speaking to him.
But he was respectful.
I could work with that.
I closed my eyes. Roman grabbed my hands.
“You don't have to.”
Shaking my head, I said, “I need to.”
I stood and walked toward my window. I leaned on the ledge and crossed my arms in front of me, suddenly feeling cold.
“Please have a seat, Mr. Zambrano.”
I waited until he obliged me in the wing chair against the wall near the door.
“This is not something easy for me to tell or relive. Only two people know what I'm about to tell you. I value my privacy.”
His dad nodded.
“My family was strict growing up. I had no choice but to do what my father said to do, when he said to do it. When I was seventeen, he wanted to marry me off to a man ten years my senior to further our family's interests. He wanted a close tie to that family. My mother had died a year earlier and I didn't have her help. I have no doubt she would've helped me; we’d been very close.”
God, I missed my mother. The stab of pain even after all these years was strong.
I looked away from them. My hair was falling in my face, so I gathered it back into a haphazard bun. My breathing was becoming heavy.
“Baby, come here.”
I looked at Roman, and my eyes began to tear. I shook my head, steeling myself. These demons were ones I never wanted to think about or revisit.
“I hadn't even so much as been out on a date. I hadn't even been kissed. I was sheltered and innocent.”
My cheeks colored and my voice was soft. I swallowed a few times before I could speak again.
“The man my father wanted me to marry despite my objections, took me out one night telling my father he wanted to get to know me. I was reluctant but I was raised to always respect my father, and I did as my father wanted. I didn't like this man. I'd always caught him staring at me, and he'd always made me feel uncomfortable. I didn't want to marry young, either. I wanted to go to college and become a doctor.”
Looking down, I realized I was gripping my hands tightly.
“He raped me that night. My father didn't want to speak to me because he'd gotten to my father first. He told my father I was belligerent and rude. He'd told him that I hadn’t respected him, and overreacted to small affections he tried to show me.” I paused for a moment with my eyes closed.
“He told my father that I’d threatened to lie about him raping me so that my father would retaliate and end the promise to wed him. It was easy for my father to believe. I hadn't been easy to get along with since my mother had died. I had gotten into many fights with him. It had been a mixture of sadness and despair over my mother’s death, and teen angst.”
I looked at Roman, who looked stunned. To Mr. Zambrano’s credit, he looked disgusted.
“My betrothed had my brothers’ ears and had smooth talked to them, too. He lied to them just like he said he would lie to my father. When one of them wouldn’t pick up his phone when I called, I thought it was because he’d already gotten to them. So, I ran away. I got whatever money I could and took bus after bus to make sure no one followed me. I stayed in abandoned buildings, on the streets, and in shelters. I lied about my age, praying that I'd make it to my eighteenth birthday before I was found. I settled in a small Midwestern town and was able to work off the books and save money. I hoped that I could meet with a judge who didn’t know who my father was, so that I could change my last name when I turned eighteen. I was able to do just that when my birthday came.”
I closed my eyes and when I opened them, I focused only on Roman’s.
“My father wanted me to marry into the Valenti family, a very powerful family. I needed to hide from them all, so I adopted my mother’s maiden name, Laurenti, but I was born Izabella Luciana Fiore.”
Roman’s eyes widened and his eyebrows furled. I looked at his father, who’s eyes became hard.
“Have you been in contact with them? Are you the reason why they're trying to get territory down here?”
I shook my head. “I only found out they were here from Roman.” He looked at Roman, who nodded.
“I don't think they know where I am. I hope they don't, anyways. But…”
“Come here, baby.”
I walked to Roman, relieved that he still wanted to touch me, to be with me. I sat on the bed in front of him and he wrapped his arms around me from behind, kissing my head. I looked at his father, and his father’s eyes slightly softened when he saw the way Roman held me.
“But what, Dr. Laurenti?”
Sighing, I said, “I've seen the man who I was promised to here and there, but I thought it was my mind playing tricks. It's nothing new. For years, I'd imagined him nearby because I had been on the run for so long, and him finding me had always been my greatest fear. I'm not certain, but I have been seeing him.”
Roman’s arms wrapped around me tighter.
“The notes.”
I nodded, and he explained the
m to his father when he asked.
“They apply to my situation. Running from him and my family like the notes referencing the bird of the woods and the fox. That is what has me scared.”
“Is it his handwriting?”
“I don’t know. I never really saw a sample.”
“I wish you would've told me, Izzy.”
“I'm sorry. At first, I didn't want to relive my past. Then I feared you would hate me if you knew who my family was.”
“That's why you asked if they were our rivals.”
I nodded.
“I'm sorry for all that you experienced, Dr. Laurenti. I think I’ll take my leave now.”
His father stood up but I stopped him from leaving. “Mr. Zambrano-”
“Alejandro.”
“Izabella, then.”
His smile was slight as he dipped his head.
“This is a sensitive subject, but tell me about your cancer.”
He sat back down. “PSA returned very high. They're running more tests. Doesn't look good.”
I nodded, gripping Roman’s hand in support and comfort. His father’s eyes landed on our joined hands.
“How long have you been in remission?”
“Ten years.”
I nodded. “That's a good number of years post treatment. Who’s your doctor?”
He grimaced. “It was Sandoval but he retired. I have a new one I just started seeing.”
I patted Roman’s hands so that he would loosen them from around me. Getting up, I wrote on a piece of paper and handed it to him.
“Since you're new with one doc, it wouldn't hurt you to see another.” I handed him the paper. “That's my best friend. She's one of the best oncologists down here, and I don't say that just because she's my best friend. That's her cell number. I'll give her the heads up that you'll be calling.”
“Caridad Zavala. “ Looking up from the paper, he said, “Thank you.”
I smiled at him. “Should you need anything, Alejandro, you know how to reach me. Any time.”
Surprise lit his eyes at my offer.
“Take it from me, Pop, she's a tough doctor and ball-breaker, but has a great bedside manner.”
Roman grinned and his father chuckled.
“Roman!”
