The Mafia King's Unknown Doctor Wife novel Chapter 28

Chapter 28

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“Yeah, no problem,” Elena said, fully distracted by her patient. “Just be sure to wash it afterwards.”

Elena hung up the phone so she could more easily bandage the man’s head wound. After that was done, she headed for the next car.

As she got more focused, Elena prioritized her efforts. She treated the poor pedestrians who had gotten injured in the chain of car accidents. The drivers and passengers had a car to protect them from damage–the poor people who had been crossing the street weren’t so fortunate.

In some ways, this sight was worse than the aftermath of the mafia shootout that felt like it had happened a lifetime ago. Everyone remembered that bullets could easily tear through flesh, but so could several tons of metal moving at high speeds.

Elena lamented all of this as she staunched the bleeding of a woman’s leg and made a makeshift tourniquet. There were good odds the woman would lose the leg, especially if she wasn’t taken to a hospital soon.

But Elena couldn’t think about that. She needed to make sure the couple on the opposite sidewalk were still breathing. She needed to check if any of the drivers were unconscious.

She needed to pull out glass shards and metal shrapnel and rubber and cement from all types of wounds.

It brought her no joy to abandon the truck driver, even if he had almost killed her. From one look alone, Elena knew she didn’t have the right medical equipment on her to help him. She knew he would probably die before the ambulance arrived with the proper tools.

But Elena also knew if she wasn’t cruelly efficient, so many more people would die today.

So she didn’t cry or swear. She lost herself in her work. She let herself go numb as she treated everyone she could.

Eventually, a first responder got her attention. Elena recited every injured party she’d seen and how she treated them while she pulled out her ID.

“You’ve been a big help,” he said.

Elena smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“The police should be here soon. It’d be great if you could give a statement.”

Elena was dimly aware that the sun had set and the moon was rising up in the sky. How long had she been here already? Would any of her treatments for her more gravely injured patients make a difference?

Suddenly, she felt very, very tired.

“Of course,” Elena replied.

Massimo waited at a table in Caffè Bella for his wife to arrive. He tried not to fidget with the wrapping on the gift he’d brought. He didn’t want the red ribbon bow to come undone before she got here,

He knew he should’ve arrived later. But it was easy to justify an early entrance. He needed to scout out the place, make sure none of his enemies or any suspicious characters were around, and mentally clock all emergency supplies and exits in case the worst happened.

Besides, Massimo wanted the date to go well.

And, even more notably, he was nervous.

Massimo couldn’t remember the last time he had been to a restaurant like this–no, any place like this whatsoever was completely foreign to him. It wasn’t mafia owned or even sponsored, no one on the payroll had

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Chapter 28

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ever been to prison, and Massimo didn’t recognize a single one of the customers.

The place wasn’t built with blood money. Sure, it wasn’t bad by any means, but there’s a certain amount of luxury that can’t be bought through legal means. That type of luxury was very familiar to Massimo.

Yet he didn’t find himself minding its absence. The expression customers here wore weren’t haughty or arrogant or knowing. No, people here smiled like they did in the old movies Massimo barely remembers.

His mom was a romantic. Massimo vaguely remembers his father buying up trashy romcom movies and books for Valentine’s Day. He remembers more clearly that his grandfather hadn’t been pleased.

“It’s all well and good,” Fabio had said, “but you’re the most important man in the mafia, my son. You can’t be seen giving your wife something so plain and cheap.”

“I’ll give it to her in private then,” Massimo’s father had said, not letting his chipper mood die so easily. “Or, better yet, I’ll take my wife to somewhere opulent and expensive for Valentine’s Day and flaunt the Ferraro wealth for all to see. Then the day after, my wife and I will celebrate our love how we choose.”

Fabio had shaken his head and muttered something about how love makes fools of everyone. But he hadn’t protested further.

Massimo doesn’t remember anything more about that holiday. But as he sat in this comparatively simple restaurant, he was comforted by the idea that his parents had had a lovely post–Valentine’s Day celebration.

There was something less oppressive about the very air here–and it had nothing to do with the lack of cigar smoke. People just walked lighter without the weight of a criminal empire haunting them.

His wife was no doubt like those people. A simple girl who saw whimsy in the mundane could never be found in Massimo’s dark world of crime.

He wondered what she would look like. Maybe like the female protagonists in those movies she watched? So short brown hair or maybe long black hair?

Massimo guessed she would move like the wind–delicate but shifting, always changing at a moment’s notice. She wouldn’t walk with a slouch, but instead stand tall and ook people in the eye. Her smile would be infectious to any who saw it.

Massimo checked his watch. Eight o’clock exactly. Where was she?

He looked over the crowd of customers again. Her pale pink dress would almost blend in with the color of the restaurant’s wallpaper–did she plan that? Still, Massimo persisted in his search.

“There you are,” he said to himself as he spotted her.

She wasn’t facing him, but she hung back by the door, looking out the window. The hint of moonlight acted as a spotlight on her simple yet beautiful pink dress.

Massimo took a moment to observe her.

She had red hair and carried herself with confidence. When she walked up to the host stand, she almost danced in her steps. Her green eyes were piercing but not dangerous.

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