Not Mine to Keep: Chapter 17

“Fucking hell.” Where am I?

“You really are allergic to drugs, aren’t you?” Was that Hudson? “I’ll get your brothers. Be right back.”

I tried to look around to get my bearings, but the pain behind my eyes had my skull feeling like it was going to crack open, so my eyelids slammed shut.

“You’re awake. Finally.” That was definitely Enzo.

I think. “Why does it feel like someone roofied me?” Lifting my arm to hold my head, I groaned at the pain there, and my hand plopped down onto my chest, about the only part of my body that didn’t feel like it’d been used like a punching bag.

“Have you ever been roofied to know what that feels like?” My sister’s words had me forcing my eyes open, and I looked over to see her and Enzo hanging by my side.

Fuck. My wedding day. That’s today, right? It’s happening. Gabriel said it was, didn’t he? Or was that a lucid and twisted dream? “Someone talk.”

Enzo helped me sit, and Izzy offered me a bottle of water.

“Esposito’s wife shot you. Then one of his guards tossed you onto a glass table, and it shattered when you landed on it.” Izzy rattled off the details of last night, speaking too damn fast. “Unfortunately, they were using that table to do lines of . . . something illegal, so you may have inhaled some of that, too. But on top of hitting your head, then the doc jabbing you with fentanyl—safe to say you needed the beauty sleep.”

“I heard about every third word you said.” I sucked down the water, then crumpled the plastic between my palms, wishing the jackhammer in my head would call it a day.

“You were distracted last night.” Enzo sat next to me. “That’s not like you.”

“You know he’s a big softy when it comes to certain things.” I wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or an insult from Izzy. “I think this woman has him a little shaken up, though.”

“Probably the loss of his bachelorhood’s more like it.” I was too out of it to detect whether Enzo was being sarcastic with that comment.

“Rocco was there. Seeing him was what shook me up.” It had nothing to do with Callie, dammit. “Where’s Constantine?”

“On a call. He’ll be in here in a second.” Enzo nudged my side, and it was thankfully my good arm.

“The doctor we dragged from his home last night. Is he going to be a problem?” I slid my legs around to the side of the bed and tossed the crumpled bottle toward the wastebasket but missed. “Also, you should’ve clocked him so he couldn’t drug me.”

“This is Enzo we’re talking about.” Izzy grabbed the bottle and threw it away. “He nearly did, but I held him back. We don’t punch doctors. Not a good-guy-gal thing to do.”

I rolled my eyes, not the norm for me. “There can be exceptions.”

“The sizeable donation we made to his bank account for his help should buy his silence,” Enzo answered my other concerns.

“You sure you’re up to getting married today?” I looked over to the doorway to Constantine there, concern in his eyes.

“Not exactly, but I don’t have a choice.” I checked my wrist, but my watch wasn’t there. “What time is it?”

“Three,” Izzy said, and based on the light streaming through the windows, she didn’t mean 0300 hours.

“We’ve held Gabriel off as long as we can.” Enzo stood, lining himself up by Izzy. “Well, I should say, he’s held Armani off as long as he could. But you’re getting hitched in about two hours.”

Two hours?

“Time to shower and get over to the DiMaggios’. Armani wants to speak with you before you walk down the aisle,” Enzo said, infiltrating my thoughts before I could panic about having two hours left to be single.

“You should’ve woken me sooner.” I tried to stand but lost my balance, landing back on my ass on the bed—one other part of me that didn’t hurt. Thank God.

“We tried. Just like we tried to keep you away from Callie last night, and you wouldn’t listen. You’re one stubborn prick when you’re drugged.” Enzo showed his left cheek, and there was a faint mark there. He wasn’t suggesting I . . .

“Like hell I hit you.” My gaze snapped guiltily to my palms.

“Kidding, this was courtesy of Esposito’s wife if you can believe it.” Relieved, I looked back up at Enzo’s words. “And no, I didn’t hit her back.”

“But I would’ve liked to,” Izzy shot out. “Your tux is being delivered any minute. I can’t believe we’re going to be watching you get married today. It’s surreal.” She folded her arms, staring at me with a wistful look that shouldn’t have been on her face. Because this was a tragedy, not a fairy tale.

“You’re coming to the ceremony?” My second attempt to stand had me back on my ass again.

“Of course. Not every day our forever bachelor brother ties the knot.” Izzy smiled, and considering her cheerful mood, that had to mean—

“Tell me Sebastian and Sean still have eyes on Rocco,” I said at the memory of that important detail.

“Rocco’s in Romania. And we learned that Armani gave word to Claudio Barone that the wedding with his son is off, and the Barones are obviously not happy,” Izzy answered while I cataloged my brother’s reaction to the mention of Rocco. I doubted I’d have a chance to do a mental health check on Constantine before the ceremony, but he couldn’t be doing well after last night.

“Which is what we want.” Enzo seemed far less worried than Izzy. Not a total surprise. “Because with any luck, they’ll break the deal they made with Dad and finally come for us, and we can get Rocco. And The League can have Claudio.”

Dad and his deals. Just like the one he made for us years ago, turning us into mercenaries for the government.

“It was Dad’s arrangement with Claudio that kept his psychopathic son from ever coming after you again,” Izzy said to Constantine, and her words earned her a disapproving look from him; he’d wanted the son of a bitch to climb out of whatever hole he’d been hiding in long ago and come for him. But Rocco hadn’t, much to Constantine’s frustration and, well, to all of ours.

“Consider the cease-fire between our families null and void.” I stated the obvious, wondering if I’d be walking down the aisle with the pain in my head, or if my sister had called Mom for her magic remedy to save my ass.

Hudson joined our group chat in the bedroom on my third and finally successful attempt to stand. At the sight of him, the memory of my sister kissing him last night resurfaced. Before I could make everyone uncomfortable and ask about it, another oh-shit memory decided to make its debut in my mind.

I told Callie about Rocco’s connection to our family, didn’t I? Knowing her, she was pissed. Probably thought I was using her as bait to get to the fucker. “I need to get over to the DiMaggios’. I have to make sure we’re on the same page about what happens after the wedding.”

“And what page would that be?” Constantine asked me.

Considering the measures Armani had already taken to ensure Callie wasn’t on birth control and also was fertile . . . “The page we want him to be on,” I grumbled in a half-assed answer.

“You need to negotiate that Callie comes back to New York with you.” Constantine shot me a sharp look. Did he actually think I planned to live in Italy? “You can’t live under the same roof as that man.”

“Clearly,” I snapped, holding my head, trying to stifle a groan.

“Tell him there’re too many cooks in the kitchen,” Enzo remarked. “You know,” he added with a shrug, “too many people in his organization who have a reason for Callie not to be the one to take over.”

“Keep sowing doubt that someone in his house is a threat to his bloodline,” Constantine tacked on to Enzo’s advice. “More than just one someone.”

I reached around for my back at the achy pain there, a reminder of what had happened last night. My brothers saving my ass when I nearly fucked up the whole op because I couldn’t kill a man in front of his wife. “Shouldn’t be tough to do . . . There are plenty of people in that house that more than likely want her dead.”