The Mafia's Arranged Bride

Chapter-10 Stay

“Nico… what the hell?” I gasped, heart still racing.

“Why are you sleeping here?” he asked, his voice hoarse, his appearance just as wrecked.

“I…” My words faltered as my gaze dropped to the floor. Blood. There were droplets pooling beneath him. His hands rested on his thighs, and the right one was loosely wrapped in a handkerchief, completely soaked through.

What the hell?

“Oh my God—what happened to your hand?” I rushed to him, nausea rising in my throat at the metallic tang of blood. There was so much of it. “Nico!”

“It’s nothing,” he muttered, pulling his hand back.

“Are you crazy?” I snapped. He flinched slightly at my tone, startled. “Look at all this blood and tell me that again. Are you insane? Nico, what the f**k happened?”

He was silent for a beat before letting out a sigh. “I slammed my hand on the car window.”

“You… what?” I stared at him, incredulous.

“Stop panicking, Gianna. Go to sleep,” he said, trying to light a cigarette with his left hand.

I snatched it from his lips and tossed it away. “You’re out of your mind. We’re going to the doctor. Where are the car keys? I’ll drive.”

“I’m not going,” he grimaced. “I don’t have the energy to deal with their questions. I’ll wash it, take something for the pain. It’s nothing.”

God, I wanted to punch him. Instead, I took a deep breath.

“You need real care. This much blood? It’s not nothing,” I said, trying not to gag at the sight.

“I am not going to a doctor,” he muttered, eyeing the crumpled cigarette on the floor. But at least he had the brains not to take another one out.

“Fine then,” I said, and he frowned as I grabbed my phone, scrolling until I found the number I was looking for. So much for not disturbing anyone.

“Who are you calling?” Nico demanded. “Gianna…” I held up my hand and threw a warning look at him.

“Hi, Dr. Hicks? This is Gianna Ammassari. Yes, sorry to disturb you. My husband’s hand is badly injured, and he refuses to go to the hospital. Could you come by? No, not the Ammassari mansion. The Baldocchi estate. Yes, thank you so much.” I ended the call and glanced at Nico. He was scowling.

“Dr. Hicks is our family doctor,” I said. “He’ll be here soon.”

“I’m not a child who needs coddling,” he snapped, jaw tight with pain.

“Right now, you’re acting like one. Sit back and rest your hand. It’s bleeding more because you keep clenching it.” Nico grumbled, but when I reached for a cushion and held it on my lap, he allowed me to settle his hand on it. Blood soaked through within seconds.

“It must hurt so much,” I whispered.

“I’ve seen worse,” he said, voice softer now. “It’s nothing.”

“Dr. Hicks will be here soon. Just hold on.” I murmured, not wanting to know what he meant by ‘worse.’

“I’m fine,” he repeated.

“Right.”

“Why were you sleeping here?” he asked after a moment.

“I fell asleep… waiting for you.”

Nico blinked, visibly surprised. Like he didn’t expect me to care. It stung a little, but more than that, it made me sad. He really didn’t believe anyone could care for him... or that he even deserved it. I could see how uncomfortable he felt. It was all over his face.

“You don’t need to do that,” Nico said, looking away. “I come home late more often than not. I don’t expect you to wait for me and disturb your sleep. That’s not right.”

“I was worried…” I said. “The way you left…it freaked me out. And even if you don’t expect it, I will always be worried because I know…I know about the things you deal with. And how can I not worry if you keep coming home covered in blood and with a broken hand and God knows what else.”

“My hand is not broken,”

“Whatever.” His lips twitched—amusement flickering in his eyes. It was rare, and it struck me how beautiful he’d be if he ever let himself smile freely.

“I’m sorry I left like that. It was urgent.”

“Can I ask what happened?”

“Gianna…” he started, but the intercom buzzed right at the moment.

“It’s always the damn phone," I rolled my eyes. And it was cute when he almost smiled and then quickly looked away to hide it.

“Signora, Dr. Hicks is here. Should we let him in?”

“Yes, please.” I hung up. “The doctor’s here.” Nico made a face again but didn’t complain anymore.

Dr. Hicks was horrified to see the condition of Nico’s hand, and it took all my strength not to faint when he undid the soaked handkerchief. Blood had seeped through the fabric, and tiny shards of glass still clung to his skin.

“It’s not too deep, but you’re lucky it didn’t cut any tendons,” Dr. Hicks muttered as he carefully picked out the splinters, cleaning the wound with practiced efficiency. Nico barely flinched, but I caught the tightness in his jaw.

“I’ll need to dress this properly… and you’ll need a tetanus shot,” the doctor added, reaching for his bag. Nico shot him a glare.

“Is that necessary?”

“You tell me—when was your last booster?” Nico scowled, pressing his lips into a thin line.

“You’re getting it,” I said, crossing my arms and giving him a look. “Unless you’re scared of needles.”

“I am not scared of needles,” he made a face.

“Well, then that’s settled,” I shrugged.

By the time the doctor left, the sky was beginning to lighten. I cleaned up the blood because I didn’t want Mirella to freak out when she came in the morning while Nico made his way upstairs, sluggish from the painkillers.

Nico was sprawled on the bed, almost asleep as I walked into our bedroom, gently closing the door behind me. And as much as I would be happy if he got some sleep, he was still wearing the same clothes from the party, and his white shirt was marred in blood. He needed to change.

“Nico,” I said gently, “you need to change.”

“Hmm,” he groaned, barely stirring.

“Come on. Let me help you. You can’t do it alone.”

“Just…just get me some sweats…I cannot bother with more,” he groaned. I wondered if he was even conscious. He seemed…drugged.

“Right. Sweats…let me find them. Stay awake, okay?” he nodded but I wasn’t really counting on it as I rushed into his walk-in…our walk-in and scrambled around for sweatpants. This place was a maze, but thankfully, I found a pair of black ones right away. I dashed back into the room, and as suspected, he was already half asleep again.

“Do you want help?” I asked quietly. “Dr. Hicks said you need to rest your hand.” His eyes met mine. As always, I expected a sharp no. But after a long pause, he nodded.

stepped closer, fingers curling around the lapels of his jacket as I carefully slid it off his shoulders. He barely reacted, but when my hand brushed his arm, I felt the tension beneath his skin—muscles wound tight, like a coiled spring. The white dress shirt underneath was streaked with bloodstains, sticking to his body. I swallowed hard, ignoring the way my pulse skittered as I reached for the first button.

"Hold still," I murmured, focusing on the task at hand. My fingers brushed against the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one. The dim lighting cast deep shadows across his torso as I spread the fabric apart, revealing the beautiful body beneath.

My breath hitched.

I knew Nico was built like a weapon but seeing him like this, so close, was different. The ink etched into his skin told stories I didn’t know, black lines standing stark against the dusky tone of his body. It took my breath away.

But when I looked closer, I saw something. Beneath the ink, hidden under the bold lines of his tattoos, were scars. Some were old—faint and silvery. Others were still dark, still raw. They were harsh, partly healed, but impossible to miss. A hollow, sick feeling crept up my spine. I didn’t expect it to hurt so much, just seeing them.

And were some of them...burns?

What had his father done to him? My fingers trembled as I gently traced the jagged scar just below his ribs, the skin uneven beneath my touch. Nico shifted slightly, drugged and dazed, his body reacting to my touch even through the haze of painkillers. Then his eyes, heavy and half-lidded, found mine.

And just like that, I knew—he had never let anyone see this side of him.

"What happened?" I whispered, my throat tightening. For a moment, he didn’t answer. Just watched me in silence.

"You wouldn’t want to know,” he sighed, sounding somewhat lost.

Try me... I thought inwardly but didn't press further.

Maybe one day he would open up and tell me what happened. And maybe one day…he would let me kiss away all his scars and pain.

So I continued with undoing his shirt instead. I heard a slow exhale leave him and then felt him move. Nico’s fingers reached up and caught a strand of my hair, twisting it absently between his fingers, his drug-heavy gaze lingering on my face.

"You’re very beautiful," he murmured. I stilled and dragged my eyes to his, finding him silently watching me. I fought the urge to lean closer and kiss him.

“Thank you,” I said, gently removing his shirt and throwing it on the floor. I grabbed a clean cloth from the dresser and gently wiped the dried blood from his chest and shoulder. He didn’t say a word, but I felt his muscles tense beneath my touch.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said softly.

“I know," I nodded as I reached for his belt, my hands steady despite the way my heart rattled against my ribs. Popping the button, and sliding the zipper down, I tried my best to focus. But as I pushed the fabric down his legs, my resolve wavered. Because that was when I saw it.

Oh my.

He was hard, and oh dear god…that was a fine sight. My dreams didn’t do him justice. Not at all.

Heat flooded my face, and I went still for just a second—just long enough to curse myself before grabbing the sweatpants and yanking them up over his legs in one swift motion. I prayed to God that my face didn’t betray me even if I could feel the heat almost scalding my skin.

Nico made a sound—something low, almost amused but thankfully didn’t comment. And I was glad when he let himself sink back into the pillows, body finally slack with exhaustion. Gently, I pulled the duvet over him, smoothing it out as I stepped away. I needed to leave. To put distance between us before my heart burst out of my chest.

“You should sleep,” I murmured, turning off the main light and pulling the curtains closed.

He looked at me in the dim glow. “So should you.”

“I will. Just wanted to make sure you were okay first.”

“Why?” he asked quietly.

“Why what?” I frowned.

“Why do you care?” The question stunned me. Not because he asked it, but because he truly didn’t understand.

Because I love you...

“Because you’re my husband,” I said. “Because you came home bleeding. Because you matter, Nico.” He didn’t respond right away. Just closed his eyes, his chest rising and falling as he took deep breaths.

"Good night," I said softly. But just as I turned…a hand wrapped around my wrist. His grip was loose, barely there, but it stopped me all the same.

"Where are you going?" he asked quietly.

I hesitated. What was I supposed to say? That seeing him like that stirred up desires I’d only dared to imagine? That touching him—feeling the heat of his skin under my hands—I was left aching for something more, something I might never have.

“Stay,” he murmured. I blinked.

“What?” He shifted slightly to one side of the bed, just enough space for me.

“Just stay here. For a while.” It wasn’t a request. It wasn’t a command either. It was… something in between. A crack in the fortress.

I hesitated for half a breath, then walked around and slipped under the covers beside him. We lay there in silence, just inches apart, the weight of everything unsaid pressing in around us.

He didn’t touch me.

I didn’t reach for him.

But his breathing slowed.

And somehow, in that fragile quiet, the distance between us didn’t feel so impossible.