Chapter 8 - The Price of Loyalty
The private hospital in Milan was heavily guarded by thirty elite DeLuca soldiers.
Cassian spent two days in surgery and recovery, the bullet having shattered his clavicle but miraculously missed his lung. Throughout every hour, Margot never left his bedside. She washed the blood from her skin, changed into a simple cotton dress, and converted the adjoining VIP suite into an operational command center.
With Raymond Forti and Vittorio Castiglione locked in high-security federal holding cells facing charges of corporate espionage, international money laundering, and attempted murder, the DeLuca empire faced an unprecedented administrative vacuum.
Margot stepped into the breach without hesitation.
Sitting at the foot of Cassian’s bed, she conducted virtual conferences with regional directors in New York, London, and Chicago. Her razor-sharp intellect, coupled with her intimate knowledge of the financial fraud, dismantled every remaining pocket of rebellion within the syndicate.
The hardened capos who had initially scoffed at taking orders from an American accountant quickly learned that Ms. Reeves was more terrifying than a hitman. She didn't threaten their lives; she showed them precisely how she could wipe out their offshore pensions and report their tax shelters to the IRS with three clicks of a mouse.
By the fourth day, Cassian woke to the sight of Margot standing by the window, speaking fluent Italian into her phone while approving a multi-million-dollar shipping manifest.
He watched her in silence, his heart swelling with an emotion so deep, so profound, it terrified him more than any rival cartel ever had.
Margot ended the call, turning around. When she saw his eyes open, her face broke into a radiant smile of pure relief. She hurried to his side, taking his uninjured hand in hers.
“You're awake,” she whispered, her thumb stroking the back of his hand. “The doctors said the fever broke this morning.”
“How long have you been awake?” Cassian asked, his voice raspy from disuse.
“Three days, mostly,” she admitted with a tired chuckle. “Someone had to make sure your regional capos didn't rob the warehouse blind while you were sleeping.”
Cassian smiled softly, squeezing her fingers. “Come here.”
She leaned in, and Cassian pulled her gently toward him until she was resting against his chest, her head nestled securely in the crook of his uninjured neck. He buried his face in her dark curls, inhaling the comforting scent of vanilla and lavender that was uniquely hers.
“I heard what you did,” Cassian murmured against her hair. “Dante told me. You secured the entire European network in seventy-two hours. The council of elders wants to name you Chief Operating Officer of the global holdings.”
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“I don't care about titles, Cassian,” Margot said softly, her voice muffled against his hospital gown. “When that bullet hit you... I thought I lost you. I realized that all the money, all the spreadsheets, none of it mattered if I had to go back to a world where you didn't exist.”
Cassian kissed the crown of her head, his heart beating strong and steady beneath her ear. “You will never have to live in a world without me, Margot. I promise you that.”
