Chapter 53

Albert

Before I could turn away, she reached out, her fingers brushing against my hand. “Don’t go,” she whispered, her voice trembling. She reached for me, aiming to wrap her arms around my neck and pull me down to her.

That desperation in her voice—it did something to me. I wanted to stay, wanted to be there for her, but I knew she wasn’t thinking straight. When she tried to pull me closer, I felt a surge of frustration. She was trying to coerce me, to use whatever hold she thought she had to keep me here, and it only made me angrier because it wasn't Mia.

It was just the drugs.

I gently but firmly pushed her back, my voice low and rough. “I told you before, Mia—not all mafia men are the same. I’d never want you like this, under the influence, out of fear.”

She stared at me, her eyes searching mine, and I braced myself for the questions I knew were coming. I expected her to demand answers, to ask what I really felt for her. But she surprised me.

Without a word, she lifted up, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulled me down, her lips meeting mine in a kiss that was full of a need that made it hard to pull away. For a moment, I let myself kiss her back, let myself feel the heat of her skin, the way she clung to me like I was the only thing keeping her from falling apart.

But then reality crashed back in, and I pulled away, breathing hard as I stared down at her.

“Mia,” I began, my voice rough, “you don’t know what you’re doing.”

She looked up at me, and despite everything, there was a determination in her eyes that I couldn’t ignore.

“I know what I want,” she whispered, and I could tell that she meant every word.

At least as much as she could under the influence. I closed my eyes, fighting the urge to give in to the desire burning between us. But I couldn’t—wouldn’t—let her make that choice in her current state. I wasn’t that kind of man, and I refused to become that kind of man either.

Like Dimitri.

Like Elio.

Like Lorenzo.

I stepped back, putting distance between us. “Get some rest,” I repeated, softer this time. “We’ll talk about this when you’re yourself again.”

"But I am--"

"No, you aren't."

I pulled away watching her, my mind a mess of frustration, desire, and something deeper that I wasn’t ready to face. I could barely control the fury boiling inside me as I watched Mia, helpless and confused, reaching out to me with those pleading eyes. Her words were slurred, desperate for something—anything—from me, but I couldn’t give in. Not like this. She was drugged, vulnerable, and it wasn’t right to take advantage of that.

It was cruel to have her want me and have it be like this.

"Albert," she breathed, reaching for me again.

I pushed her hands away gently but firmly, settling her back onto the bed. “Mia, you’re not in your right mind,” I said, my voice rough with frustration. “I can’t—won’t—do this.”

Her eyes filled with tears as she tried to reach for me again, her voice breaking as she begged. “Please, Albert… don’t go…”

My heart ached at the sound of her crying, the distress in her voice cutting through my resolve. I knew I had to keep her safe, and that meant keeping her from making any decisions she’d regret once she was clear-headed. I pulled off my belt. Her eyes widened. I took her hands and pushed her down. She gasped, arching against me. I tied her hands together and secured them to the bedposts. I felt a pang of guilt as I did it, but it was necessary to keep her from hurting herself or making a rash choice.

Then, I stood.

"But--"

"I'm not that kind of man, Mia. Contrary to your beliefs about every man involved with the mafia."

She started to cry as I turned to leave, I heard her crying grow more intense, her sobs coming in ragged gasps. The sound stopped me in my tracks, twisting something deep inside me. I couldn’t just leave her like this. I turned back to her, torn between my anger and my desire to help.

I sank down on the edge of the bed. "Mia... Please..."

The sobbing turned rougher, gasping. I frowned, looking up. Her eyes were completely unfocused. She started to shake, and my heart leaped into my throat.

Shit!

“I’m calling a doctor,” I said, my voice softer now. I reached for my phone, dialing the number with a shaky hand.

Within minutes, the doctor arrived. Mia’s condition was deteriorating quickly; she was getting hotter, her skin flushed with an alarming redness. The doctor immediately directed us to get her into an ice bath. I was too numb to protest as they moved her to the tub, the cool water enveloping her as the doctor worked quickly to counteract the drug's effects.

I stood by the side of the tub, my anger boiling just beneath the surface. The sight of her suffering like this, the realization of what Lorenzo had done to her—it made me want to rip that bastard apart. My hands clenched into fists as I struggled to keep my emotions in check.

The doctor worked diligently, and I stayed by Mia’s side, watching her closely. Her breathing was labored, and she was clearly in a lot of discomfort, but the ice bath was helping. The doctor’s efficient movements reassured me, but the guilt gnawing at me was relentless.

I couldn’t shake the image of her broken, vulnerable, and begging for me. I felt like a monster for not giving in, for not comforting her the way she wanted. But I had to remind myself that it was for her own good, that she needed to come back to herself before we could face any of this together.

As the doctor continued his work, I kept my gaze fixed on Mia, my heart torn between the overwhelming desire to make everything right for her and the burning need for retribution against Lorenzo. The anger was nearly suffocating, but it was mixed with a deep, painful guilt for not being able to protect her from this.

When the doctor finally assured me that Mia’s condition was stabilizing, I felt a small sense of relief, but it did little to ease the rage bubbling inside me. I wanted to kill Lorenzo with my bare hands for putting her through this, for making me watch her suffer.

For now, all I could do was stay with her, be present in her pain, and promise myself that I would make Lorenzo pay for every bit of suffering he’d caused.

I woke up early the next morning, the weight of the previous night still heavy on my shoulders. Mia had finally fallen into a deep sleep, the effects of the drug beginning to wear off. I carefully dressed her, mindful not to disturb her too much. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake, her breathing steadying.

After ensuring she was stable, I helped her into the car. My mind focused on getting her to the hospital to see her mother and to have her formally checked over. The drive was quiet, filled with the gentle hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of Mia shifting in my arms. I could see the exhaustion etched into her features, a stark reminder of how close we’d come to losing everything.

I wondered, for a moment, if Katie had been drugged the same way. We arrived at the hospital, and I carried her inside and let the doctors check her over. The morning light filtered through the windows, casting a soft glow on the sterile hallways.

She woke up in the middle of the nurse drawing blood.

"What...?"

"Take it easy," the nurse said. "I'll get her blood work checked, but I think she's out of the danger zone."

Mia was still groggy, her movements slow and hesitant. I kept nearby. Slowly, she blinked and looked at me. I could see the moment she remembered everything that happened the night before and I took her hand.

"You're fine."

Her eyes watered and she sniffled. I took her into my arms to hold her as she cried.

"It's alright."

“Albert, I’m really sorry about last night,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “I wasn’t myself. I know I must have been... difficult.”

I rubbed her back, holding her closer.

“You don’t have to apologize. You were in a bad situation, and I’m just glad I was able to get to you in time. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

She sniffled into my chest, seemingly relaxing in my arms.

"Do you want to go see your mom after the test results get back?"

She nodded. "Thank you."