Chapter 26

Layla

I kept seeing Aldo’s face: as I grabbed coffee from the abandoned kitchen the next morning; as I slid behind the wheel of my car to head to work; as I rode the elevator up to the emergency surgery wing.

The grim determination in that expression was either honesty, or the look of a man who’d force-fed himself a lie long enough to believe it was truth. And where Marco was concerned, I was inclined to think the latter.

Aldo hated Marco, would do anything to make me believe he was a bad man. To paint him as the villain. That much I knew to be true. But this …

The thought of Marco—smiling, charming, playboy Marco—having ties to a Mafia clan was almost laughable.

“He’s trying too hard,” I snorted as I swept into my office to set down my half-drunk coffee and grab my coat. “Does he honestly expect me to believe that kind of shit?”

He couldn’t stand the idea that I might have moved on, that was it. That I trusted someone else more than him. When he’d done nothing to earn my trust in the first place!

I swept my coat around my shoulders, ready to dive into my work and leave these thoughts behind. But before I could start for the door, a tall, dark form appeared in it.

For an instant, I almost thought it was Aldo. But the figure wasn’t quite that big or imposing—

“Marco!” I exclaimed, tossing a grin his way. The sight of him should have been welcome—if anyone knew how to pull out a smile through the darkness, it was Marco—but instead, his presence just made me think of Aldo’s accusations all over again.

He has ties to my enemies …

“Hey, Layla. Could I …” Marco lifted a hand to ruffle the back of his hair in a surprisingly awkward gesture. “Could I talk to you for a second?”

I cocked my head, uncertain. “Sure. But … could I ask you something first?”

He slipped into the office, closed the door behind him. His brows pulled into a soft line of concern. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s silly … just.” I huffed out a half-laugh. “Do you know a woman named Maria Moretti?”

“Maria …” For a split second, Marco’s expression flickered—a brief shadow of surprise that quickly morphed into realization as his brows shot upwards. “Oh! Maria! Yes. I met with her about a charity donation.”

“Donation?” I wracked my brain, trying to think of Marco mentioning being involved with charities in the past.

“To the hospital, yeah,” Marco sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. He looked suddenly tired, older than his twenty-nine years. “I know we’re both tired of working with equipment that needed to be replaced five years ago. Tired of being understaffed … a donation could change all of that.”

“Oh.” Sudden shame flooded me. How could I have thought ill of Marco, even for a second—even enough to pose the question? He’d always proven himself to be a good man and a better doctor. Always thinking of others.

“Well, that’s great. How did it go?”

He shrugged. “Guess we’ll see. She has to talk it over with her husband.”

Goosebumps lifted on my arms. The head of the Moretti clan—presumably the man who’d ordered a hit on my life. And yet, he might also bring salvation to this hospital …

I hated the Mafia, I decided. Hated it more than anything in the world.

“So, the reason I came here …” Marco’s words startled me out of my thoughts. He was doing that awkward hair-ruffle again, and his gaze had dropped to the floor.

It was surprisingly adorable.

“There’s something I need to tell you, Layla.” His gaze snapped up to meet mine, and my stomach flipped over. I’d been hearing way too much of that lately—but Marco wasn’t Aldo, I reminded myself.

So I offered him a smile. “What is it?”

Marco hesitated, ran a hand through his hair again. “I … didn’t want to say anything because I know you’ve been going through a lot of shit lately, but I … I have feelings for you, Layla.”

“Feelings?” The word felt fat and foreign on my tongue. “What kind of feelings?”

My mind raced, struggling to make sense of that word. Feelings. Of all the things I’d expected—and from all people—this was the last thing I’d ever expected to hear out of Marco’s mouth.

“I want more than friends.” Marco’s face smoothed into lines of earnesty. Honesty. “I want to date you. Exclusively.”

The words were so open. So vulnerable and blunt and direct. I didn’t know how to respond; I was probably gaping at him like a fish.

“Oh,” I said, because what else was I supposed to say? When was the last time someone had done that for me—told me exactly what they were feeling, exactly what they wanted?

No lies, no games.

“Oh?” Marco let out a nervous laugh. “That’s not exactly what every man wants to hear when he pours out his heart.”

I chuckled, too. Even at his most vulnerable, Marco was still a charmer. Still knew how to make me laugh. Certainly not a bad person to be around, a good friend to me always.

But did I want to date him?

Marco was kind, attentive, and undeniably attractive. Maybe this moment—after the hellish night I’d had—was a sign that it was time for me to move on. To once and for all put Vasco and the past behind me.

Start fresh.

But even as I stared up into Marco’s soft, expectant eyes—so patient as he waited for me to sort though my wayward thoughts—I couldn’t help but think that any relationship with him would be a lie.

How could it not, when so much of me still ached for Vasco? For all the hell and heartbreak he’d put me through, for all that he’d changed over the years, Vasco still held my heart.

It wasn’t free for me to give.

So I met Marco’s gaze, and gave him a soft, apologetic smile. “Marco, I’m flattered, really. You’re an amazing guy, and any woman would be lucky to have your full attention. But … my life’s such a mess right now.”

“Aldo.” Marco crossed his arms and tilted his shoulder against the doorframe. His jaw ticked with tension, but he didn’t look angry. Just … sad.

“Among other things,” I sighed. “If it was just him, I could walk away.”

Marco’s jaw ticked again, but he nodded. “I understand. Honestly, I didn’t actually think you’d say yes.” He huffed out a sad little laugh, and his gaze tilted towards the ceiling. “But I needed you to know.”

“Thank you.” I placed a hesitant hand on his elbow, like that might make up for my rejection. “You’ve always been such a good friend to me. If things were different …”

But I let the words trail off because I suddenly wasn’t sure what the truth was. If Aldo hadn’t come crashing back into my life, would I have said yes to Marco? Or would my heart still have belonged to the beautiful Italian man from my past?

A smile crept across Marco’s face, the flash of white teeth transforming him back to his normal, charming self. “Can I at least take you to dinner? Not an official date or anything. No strings, no expectations. Just two friends enjoying a night out.”

I hesitated, torn between the conflicted desires of my broken heart. Torn between guilt and expectation. Drawn in by his warmth and sincerity. “All right. One dinner.”

But when Marco turned and left my office, it was like he’d taken the sun with him—leaving me and all my uncertainty in a cloud of unease.

Aldo’s warnings, Marco’s feelings, my own conflicted head and heart—they all loomed like storm clouds on the horizon, threatening to upend the fragile balance I was trying so desperately to maintain.