Chapter 2

Early Saturday morning, I went to the studio.

The London office had sent another email the night before, confirming that I would start working on the portrait features the following week.

When my assistant came over, I was naming the last photo folder.

She asked, "You're really going to London?"

I nodded.

"Yeah."

She asked, "So this isn't just a temporary assignment?"

I paused before answering. "I won't be back anytime soon."

She didn't ask anything more.

I went back to sorting photos. Just as I finished handing off my last project, my phone rang.

It was Mark.

I answered. The line was noisy.

Mark asked, "Donna, where are you right now?"

I told him, "The studio."

Mark sounded anxious. "Donna, something's happened to the Don! A car backfired during a test drive, and he passed out. He even stopped breathing for a moment!"

Before I could answer, Mark went on, "Donna, I'll send someone to pick you up. The Don needs you here."

Most people would have been startled by a sound like that, nothing more.

But Luca was different.

For a long time after he was shot, he couldn't even handle sudden footsteps outside his door.

Even after he recovered, the fear never entirely left him.

For ten years, whenever something like this happened, I'd drop everything and rush to his side, no matter what I was doing.

On the other end, Mark kept urging me to come.

I asked, "Is the doctor on his way?"

Mark answered quickly. "He's on his way."

I told him, "Then let the doctor handle it."

Mark seemed caught off guard.

"But he was calling for you before he passed out! If he wakes up and you're not there, it'll only make things worse."

I only asked, "What about Selina?"

The line went silent for a second.

I went on, "I'm sure he has someone with him."

The moment I hung up, Luca called.

I looked at his name on the screen. Well, he woke up fast today.

Luca called my name. "Irene."

His voice was lower than usual, and I could hear him trying to steady his breathing. "I don't care where you are. Get over here. I need to see you. Now."

I watched the progress bar inch across the bottom right corner of my computer screen.

"I can't. I'm working, and you have a doctor with you," I said flatly.

He hadn't expected me to refuse, and he sounded irritated. "I need to see you right now! I don't need a doctor!"

Of course I knew.

It wasn't the pain of the gunshot wound that terrified him most.

It was the helplessness he'd felt in that moment.

When someone came near, he needed to hear a familiar voice first to know he was safe.

When his heart raced and he couldn't breathe, he needed someone to hold his hand and tell him there was no ambush, no second bullet coming.

I had done all that for ten years.

In the beginning, he couldn't even trust himself. I got him through it, little by little.

Later, it became a habit. Whenever something happened, he had to see me right away.

I used to think that was proof he couldn't live without me.

Only now did I understand.

He thought of me only when he needed me. That didn't mean he cared about me.

His breathing on the other end grew heavier.

Then Luca said, "Irene, I feel awful right now."

I gripped the phone tighter.

I had heard that line too many times.

Every time he said it, I would drop whatever I was doing.

It didn't matter whether I was on a shoot or asleep in the middle of the night.

I gave him my answer. "Luca, I have things I need to do, too. I can't just drop everything whenever you call."

It was the first time I hadn't shown up the moment he needed me.

After the call, I packed up the studio and went home.

Sergio was just heading out when I got home.

"Ms. Selina asked me to bring two meals to the hospital," he said. "One for her and one for the Don."

"I see," I replied calmly. "And Sergio, from now on, you don't need to keep me updated on Luca's condition."