I Saved the Mafia Boss—Now I'm His Obsession. novel Chapter 5

Madeleine

𓎢𓎠𑄻𑄾𓎠𓎡

He was still out cold, but his body had started twitching, twisting under the blanket like he was trapped in some kind of nightmare.

I knelt beside the mattress, “Hey... shh, it’s okay,” I murmured, even though I knew he couldn’t hear me. I reached out without thinking and brushed the sweat-drenched hair off his forehead. It was sticking to his skin. Burning hot.

Too hot.

I froze. Then scrambled for the glass of water on the nightstand, dipped the edge of my sleeve into it, and gently dabbed at his temples.

“You’re burning up,” I whispered to him, “Oh no, no no no... this is bad. This is very, very not-good.”

His lips parted.

“Stronzo figlio di puttana… ti scavo la gola a mani nude… bastardo maledetto…” he slurred.

I froze.

He kept going, breath ragged, “Ti faccio ingoiare i denti, uno per uno… ti spezzo il collo e ci ballo sopra…”

I blinked, heart aching at the pain in his voice. He sounded so desperate. So broken. I had no idea what he was saying, it wasn’t Spanish, and I barely knew any Italian beyond ciao and grazie but it had to mean something awful had happened to him.

Maybe, he was asking for help.

“Bastardi… ve lo giuro… vi scuoio vivi…”

I brushed the back of his hand with my thumb, trying to soothe him. “Shhh… whatever you’re saying, it’s okay now,” I whispered, “But you need help. Real help. And I know you said no hospitals, but... I can’t just sit here and watch you melt into the sheets. That’s not a plan. That’s a medical emergency.”

I looked down at his flushed face, fever burning through him like wildfire, and sighed, “You’re not gonna die in my apartment, okay? I draw the line at that. Strict no-dying policy here.”

Jason would’ve known what to do, but he wasn’t here. My mind raced, Carlos. St. Margaret’s Health Center. Quiet, low-profile, underfunded. Carlos, my EMT boyfriend, wouldn’t ask questions. He wouldn’t betray me. I turned back to the man, brushing his hair again.

“I’ll be right back, alright? Mister Bloody Man,” I whispered, “Just... hang in there.”

I sprinted barefoot across the cold apartment floor, grabbed my phone off the couch, and dialled in Carlos’s number with shaking hands.

He picked up on the third ring, “What did I say about calling when I’m on shift?” he snapped.

“I need an ambulance,” I gasped. “There’s this man, he’s really hurt, Carlos, he’s burning up and I tried, I swear I did everything, but he’s not getting better! Please, just come.”

There was a pause, and then static. Then his voice, “A man?”

My throat tightened. “I was going to tell you earlier but... you listen to me.”

“You’ve had some stranger in your apartment and you didn’t think that was important enough to lead with?”

“He was bleeding out on my floor, Carlos! I couldn’t just leave him!”

“Fuck, Maddie.”

“Please don’t be mad—”

He let out a harsh sigh, “Send me your address so it gets logged in the system. I’ll come. But we’re talking about this later.”

Relief flooded my chest, “Okay. Thank you.”

I hung up, heart pounding, and ran back to the bedroom.

“Help’s coming,” I whispered, crouching beside the man again. His skin was burning. I touched his wrist lightly, afraid even that would hurt him, “Just hold on a little longer.”

Ten minutes later, tires screeched outside. I bolted for the door, yanking it open just as Carlos stormed up the stairs, EMT jacket half-zipped, jaw tight.

“Maddie,” his eyes swept over me like I was something fragile, aw, he was worried for me. He pulled me into a one-armed hug, too hard, “Are you hurt?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” I breathed, “It’s him. He’s in bad shape. I tried to clean the wound and—”

Carlos didn’t let me finish. He grabbed my face and kissed me hard. I kissed him back, clumsily, more out of reflex than anything else, I was too anxious, too tense, my lips not catching up with my brain.

Still, I smiled without meaning to because if he kissed me, he wasn’t mad mad.

“Where the hell is he?” he asked.

“Bedroom. But Carlos, wait, he said no hospitals. He’s scared. He thinks someone’s after him and—”

Carlos was already pulling gloves from his pocket, “We’ll stabilize him. That’s it. Don’t get it twisted, Maddie. But you shouldn't have dragged a sketchy-ass guy home like a stray animal.”

“He’s not dangerous,” I whispered. “He was scared.”

Carlos rolled his eyes. “So you thought, ‘Hey, I’ll just let him crash here’? That’s normal behavior now?”

“I didn’t know what else to do...”

“You call me. That’s what you do,” his voice dropped lower, “I bend over backwards helping you, and this is what you do? Out yourself in danger? Risking your life for some guy you don’t even know?”

I deflated, “I didn’t want to make you mad.”

“You should’ve wanted to make me mad. Maybe then you’d actually think for once.”

He pushed past me and entered the bedroom. I followed, chewing on the inside of my cheek.

He crouched beside the man, checked his pulse and temp, and muttered, “Shit. We don’t have time.”

Carlos stood fast. “Grab that bag. We’re loading him now.”

“Wait, baby, what if he wakes up in a hospital and panics? He trusted me.”

“Yeah? And I don’t get that trust?” he snapped his fingers, “Get the bag, Maddie. I’m not playing.”

I scrambled to obey.

We got the stranger onto the stretcher. Carlos moved fast, like he wasn’t pissed two seconds ago. He climbed into the rig and held out his hand.

I hesitated.

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