Page 58 of Ruthless Sinner
“You’re awake,” someone says, and I realize the owners of the voices are in the room with me. “How do you feel?”
It takes me a minute to match each face with its corresponding name. The white lab coat belongs to a doctor. The doctor’s name is Stone, embroidered in dark blue across his chest. Silas Stone. I remember him. His compatriot is Dante.
Dante.
Dante.
Dante.
Why does he seem important?
“Adalina?” With a concerned look on his face, Dante moves closer to my bedside and gently places a hand on my thigh. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Your eyes are really nice.” I feel like I’m squinting. The lines around my eyes feel tight, and Dante’s sharp edges blur the longer I look at him.
A warm, friendly smile lights up the doctor’s face as he reaches out and plucks the patient chart from the end of my bed. “You were under some pretty heavy anesthesia,” he explains. “You’ll probably be feeling a little woozy for a bit. No driving or operating heavy machinery for twelve hours.”
Where would I get heavy machinery? “My mouth feels really dry.”
Dante is quick to alleviate my suffering. He grabs a cup of water from the counter a few feet away and offers it to me, along with a snack pack of Cheez-Its. “In case you’re hungry,” he says softly, his voice gentle and soothing like a warm blanket on a cold night.
I stare at the orange squares, unsure of what to do with them. Instead, I sip my water.
“I know it’s your call what happens to the girl,” Silas says as he steps away, his voice lowering with each word. “But I’d recommend keeping her in a cleaner, more sterile environment than the Terlizzi dungeons. Or at least having a properly trained nurse on staff who can clean and change Adalina’s bandages, as well as ensure she isn’t causing further damage to her wrist.”
My wrist. I forgot about it. “What’s this?” I interrupt, waving my arm like a white flag.
“That’s a splint. It’s adjustable because you’ll see some swelling around the surgical site for a few days. After that, we may need to cast your wrist again or continue with splinting if complete immobilization isn’t needed.”
I understood his first few words, but then they all jumbled together and made my head hurt. The lingering effects of the anesthesia continue to cloud my thoughts and make it difficult to process anything coherently.
“She’ll be kept out of the dungeon. It wouldn’t do well to keep my future bride locked up.”
The memories flood back to me like a rushing river. Just before the anesthesiologist came in, Dante flashed me a ring. He wants me to marry him. “But you didn’t propose,” I frown. “You put the ring back in your pocket,” I remember it as clear as day.
Dante raises a curious eyebrow before reaching into his pocket and pulling the velvet box out once more. “This ring?” He asks, flipping it open.
The diamond looks so pretty from over here. “I’ve never had pretty things,” I say dreamily, my voice barely above a whisper as I speak the thoughts swirling in my mind. I wish I could stop them, but my mouth is working better than the rest of my body.
His hands move with practiced ease, delicately removing the ring from its cushion and holding it up for me to see. Dante doesn’t get down on one knee but crouches down so we’re at eye level. “If you marry me, I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you have all the pretty things you’ve ever dreamed of and more.”
A little voice in the back of my head tells me to pump the brakes. It reminds me that Dante is a dangerous man, but I struggle to recall why. Yes, he imprisoned me in a dark, damp dungeon before, but he promised the doctor he wouldn’t do it again. “Because we’re getting married,” I answer myself out loud.
Dante’s face breaks into a smile. “Is that a yes?”
He’s so handsome that I can’t say no. I want to tell him yes all day long, whatever keeps that look on his face.
“I don’t know if now is the best time for big life decisions,” the doctor counsels before I can respond. “Maybe wait until?—”
“Shut up,” Dante cuts him off with a glare. “This is between Adalina and me.” When he turns back to face me, the malice is gone from his face, and in its place is softness. “Make me the happiest man alive. Say you’ll marry me, Adalina Martinelli.”
Martinelli. My father. My father is dead. Dante killed my father. Dante saved me.
The thoughts come a million miles per hour, hitting me in the frontal lobe over and over again. My head feels even heavier, but this time, it’s with the weight of realization dawning on me. It’s as if all the pieces suddenly align, and my mind is bombarded with clarity.
The man before me is my savior, the white knight I’ve been dreaming of ever since I was a little girl.
“Yes.” My face breaks into a tentative smile. I’m still trying to make the pieces fit together. All I know for certain is that if Dante Terlizzi saved me from the hell I thought I would live in the rest of my life, then I owe him everything.