The Italian's Suitable Wife. Lucy Monroe
to count for something. “What do you mean, cases like this?”
“You know Mr. DiRinaldo is in a coma?”
“Yes.”
“Comas are very mysterious things, even with all the medical knowledge we have today. There’s a case to be made for the presence of important people in the patient’s life bringing him out of the coma.” The orderly said this with a certain acidic bite she didn’t understand.
They stopped at the nurse’s station and she was given instructions for her visit with Rico. She also learned why the orderly had seemed so knowledgeable about Rico’s condition. He was actually the intern working with the ICU doctor on call.
She walked into the ICU unit, her eyes not taking in the medical paraphernalia surrounding Rico. All she could see was the man in the bed. Six feet four inches of vitality as lifeless as a waxwork doll. Eyelids covered the compelling silver eyes she loved so much. His face was badly bruised and one shoulder was splotched with purple as well.
He didn’t appear to be wearing anything but the sheet and blanket, which covered most of his torso. His breathing was so shallow, her heart literally stopped in her chest at first because she thought he wasn’t breathing at all.
She moved forward until she stood beside the bed, her lower body pressed against the metal bedrail. Her hand reached out of its own volition to touch him. She desperately needed to feel the life force beating beneath his skin. Seeing no bandages, she laid her hand very lightly over the left side of his chest. Her knees almost buckled with emotion.
The steady beat of his heart under her barely touching fingers was proof that as still as he was, as pale as he looked, Rico was still alive. “I love you, Rico. You can’t die. Please. Don’t stop fighting.”
She didn’t realize she was crying until the intern handed her a tissue to wipe at the tears sliding silently down her cheeks. She took it and mopped up without once taking her focus off the man in the bed.
“What happened?” she asked.
“They didn’t tell you?”
“I hung up before his brother had the chance. Getting here seemed more important than getting details,” she admitted.
“He was shot saving a woman from a mugging.”
“He was shot?” The only bandages she saw were on his head.
“It was just a crease—” the orderly pointed at the white gauze strips “—along his cranium, but he fell into oncoming traffic and was hit by a car.”
“The bruises?”
“Were from the car.”
“Is there any lasting damage?”
“The doctors don’t think so, but we won’t know until he wakes up.”
There was something in his voice and her head snapped around. “Tell me.”
“The nature of some of his injuries could result in temporary or permanent paralysis, but there’s no way of knowing for sure until he comes out of the coma.”
“Where is the doctor?” She wanted more information, more than the opinion of an intern, no matter how knowledgeable he might be.
“He’s making rounds. He’ll be in to see Mr. DiRinaldo in a little while. You can talk to him then.”
She nodded and turned her eyes back on Rico, immediately forgetting the intern was in the small cubicle. There was only Rico. He’d filled her world for so long, the prospect of a life without him in it made the pain she’d felt upon his engagement pale into insignificance.
“You have to wake up, Rico. You have to live. I can’t live without you. None of us can. Your mother, your father, your brother…we all need you. Please don’t leave us. Don’t leave me.” She even forced herself to mention Chiara and his upcoming wedding. “You’ll be married and on your way to being a papa soon, Rico. I know that is what you want. You always said you were going to have a houseful of children.”
She’d hoped with the naïve dreams of a girl that those babies would be hers, but she didn’t care if Chiara was the mother, Gianna just wanted Rico to live. She kept talking, pleading with him to wake up, not to give up and she told him over and over again how much she loved him.
She was holding Rico’s hand and willing him to come out of the coma when the doctor came by later.
He examined Rico’s chart and checked the electronic monitors by the bed. “All his vital signs look good.”
“Isn’t there anything you can do to wake him up?” she asked, her throat raw from swallowing tears.
The doctor shook his head. “I’m sorry. We’ve already tried stimulants to no effect.”
Her hand tightened on Rico’s unmoving one. “I guess he’ll just have to wake up on his own then. He will, you know. Rico’s got more stubborn genes than a Missouri mule.”
The doctor smiled, his tired blue eyes warming a little. “I’m sure you’re right. It’s my opinion, having family around does its part, too.” His tone was censorious, but she didn’t feel it was directed at her.
“His parents and brother will be here as soon as humanly possible. It’s a long flight from Milan, even on the fastest private jet in the world.”
“I’m sure you are right. It’s too bad his fiancée couldn’t see her way to staying.”
“Chiara is here, in New York?”
“Miss Fabrizio was contacted at her hotel. She came in and became hysterical at the sight of him, furious he’d risked his life for a woman too stupid to know not to walk alone at night.” This time the censure was blatant.
“But why isn’t she here?” Perhaps Chiara had stepped out to use the facilities or something.
“She stayed for about an hour, but when we informed her he was in a coma and we didn’t know how soon he’d come out of it, she decided to leave. She left a number to call when he wakes up.” There was a wealth of disgust in his words.
“She must be really upset.” Gianna looked again at Rico’s motionless countenance and had no trouble understanding his fiancée going to pieces over it. She couldn’t imagine leaving his side, but then everyone dealt with fear in their own way.
“She’ll sleep fine tonight. She insisted we prescribe her an oral sedative,” the doctor added.
Gianna nodded absently, once again focused almost entirely on Rico. She rubbed the skin of his hand with her thumb. “He’s so warm. It’s hard to believe he isn’t sleeping normally.”
The doctor made some comments about physiological differences between coma and normal sleep that she only half listened to.
“Is it all right if I stay?” she asked, knowing it would take an orderly for each arm and one for her legs to get her to move from Rico’s bedside.
Laughter rumbled in the doctor’s throat. “If I said no?”
“I’d sneak back in wearing scrubs and a mask and hide under the bed,” she admitted, amazed she could find any humor in a hospital room with Rico lying broken in the bed.
“As I thought. Are you his sister?” the doctor asked.
She felt the blood rush into her cheeks. Should she lie again? Looking at the understanding light in the doctor’s eyes, she didn’t think she would have to. “No, I’m a family friend.”
Speculation flickered briefly in his expression before he nodded. “I won’t tell if you won’t. It’s obvious you care. Your presence can’t hurt and may very well help enormously.”
Relief swirled through her bloodstream. “Thank you.”
“It’s all about what’s best for