Monza: Book 2 (7 page)

I had made a tough call that would shape not only my life, but the baby’s, as well, and I had to do what I felt was the right thing. The baby was better off without me. So was she.

Maybe someday I would finally come to terms with everything that had happened. Maybe then I could move on and be with someone again. As of right then, I had to keep women at arm’s length, or they would become like rabid dogs marking their territory.

From my peripheral, I could see Gino making his way towards the carefully thought out shoot. There was a determined look about him, which easily told me he couldn’t care less about what the sour-puss of a photographer was going to do to him.

“
Vaffanculo!
Move out of the way, you imbecile!”

I smirked at the way Gino shrugged his way into that insult as he strode towards me. Whatever information he had, it was important, and he wasn’t going to let anyone, not even the terrifying photographer whom I didn’t even dare cross, stop him from delivering it to me.

In retrospect, Gino was beyond brilliant as an assistant. He deserved a raise. I made a mental note as my smile got bigger before giving him a nod when he reached me.

“
Che cosa succede?”
(
What’s happening?)

“
È il bambino, Signore.”
(
It’s the baby.)

He need not say more. After hearing his words, I blasted my way out of there at the speed of light with my heart pounding so hard against my chest that one would consider I was having a mild heart attack.

The second the car doors closed, I looked out the window, seeing nothing as I took in a lungful of breath.

“
Go on,” I said in a low, baritone voice.

“
I couldn’t really grasp what Signora Gallo was saying since she was speaking in a rush, but from what I gathered, you’re needed in the hospital because of the baby, and time is of the essence.”

Gritting my teeth together didn’t ease all the horrendous images that were running through my mind.

“
She already gave birth, didn’t she?” I carefully asked, clarifying it once more just to make sure I wasn’t losing my mind.

He made a curt nod, sending me a steady look. “Si, Signore, a little over seven weeks ago.”

Something was wrong. Something was bloody wrong. I just felt it. And whatever it was, it was terrifying me. What if I went there and found out that the baby was dead or that he or she’d had an accident?

I made sure Gino didn’t tell me the gender of the baby. I thought it safe that way because I would be less attached. It was harder to picture what it looked like if I didn’t know its gender.

While I was left with my own thoughts, Gino busied himself by making sure the jet was ready to depart the Milan-Malpensa airport to take me directly to Rome. It was the fastest ride that could get me there.

The entire time during the short flight, I felt as though the one hour and twenty minute trip was a death sentence. Each second that ticked away, I was sick with worry, so much so that I began to pray. It was bizarre that I couldn’t recall the last time I had. I guessed that was how it was the moment a man became a parent. Of course, I wasn’t sure I could consider myself one since I merely “fathered” the baby, but I loved that baby without even having met him or her. It was difficult to explain, but it was as simple as that.

From the airport to the hospital, I was bombarded with all sorts of emotions, and one fear stood out the most—knowing well enough that nothing great could come out of a baby being admitted to the hospital after being birthed almost two months ago. Kimberly wasn’t the type to seek help, most especially coming from me. Her calling to ask for help had conveyed exactly how delicate the situation was.

And just as I had feared … Well, it was actually far worse than I had feared. I reached the children’s hospital and sought out Kimberly, and the moment I reached the floor, I saw the disheveled state she was in. I barely saw Anton, who was sitting in one of the waiting room chairs. My heart dropped at the sight of how exhausted she looked.

She had bloodshot eyes, as if she had been in a constant state of tears. Her hair was all over the place, and she was as pale as ever. She was a far cry from those mothers I had encountered looking well rested and full of smiles weeks after birth.

“
Kimberly,” I uttered her name alone, but it carried so much more.

Her tear-stained face lifted to take in the sight of me with her eyes snapping wide open before she almost ran towards where I stood.

“
Luca, thank heavens you’re here! I need your help. No! The baby needs your help.
We
need your help. I didn’t think it’d happen. Maybe it was so stupid of me, but I didn’t really put it into the equation. I should have been more watchful to the signs … I could have been more vigilant.”

She was a blabbering mess before she broke down into tears again, obviously blaming herself for what had happened. I had to hold myself down from reaching out to her, holding her, and making sure she was fine. It was inappropriate to do it here, knowing very well her husband was most likely watching our exchange. It was something I should vanish from my thoughts. It was over. She wasn’t mine. The wedding band on her finger was an obvious indication of that.

Clearing my throat, I told myself it was not the time to think about her and what she was feeling at the moment. “What’s wrong with the baby, Kim?”

“
Sickle cell disease runs in my family. I knew the risks, but I took a chance and thought maybe, just maybe, it would skip with my baby. But I was wrong, so very wrong in assuming that.

“
Please save my baby…” she begged, choking as she did so. “I know you must be mad at me, and rightfully so, but I’m asking for you to put everything aside to save our son. His blood is O negative, but I’m A negative. That leaves me with you. That’s your blood type, isn’t it?”

“
Don’t insult me, Kim. This is my child, too. I’d give up my life right now just to save his, so don’t give me this crap.”

Son. My baby was a boy.

My heart swelled at the thought of it, but it saddened me that he was barely born, and he had to deal with this hereditary condition. Sickle cell. I had no idea what that was. I had heard of it yet had no clue how vastly it could affect him.

Her lips wobbled, seeming fragile as she murmured, “I’m sorry.”

There were so many things that could have been said, but this wasn’t the time nor the place to argue or bicker about things that meant so little at this moment. Our son was the priority. Not her, nor us.

“
What do I need to do?” I said, not wanting to waste precious time in chatter.

“
The doctor will brief you if you … if you’re willing to do the blood transfusion, that is.”

Why did she doubt my willingness to help? For fuck’s sake,
this
was
my son
! Did she not understand what that meant to me? Apparently not.

“
Let the doctor know I’m here, and I want to speak to him directly. I want to inquire about who can deliver the very best medical care for my son.” The possessiveness was evident, and it left me all the more protective of him.

Kimberly rushed off to inform the nurse to have someone dispatched to get the doctor who was assigned to our baby. By the looks of it, they weren’t really being given the priority since the nurses barely moved to do what she had asked. I didn’t like to extend my power and wealth, but this was an exception.

Using a commanding tone, I efficiently and succinctly stated that I needed specialists that took extensive study about the disease and also had long-term expertise about the condition. I needed all hands and minds on deck that would solely focus on my son and finding him a cure…or the next best thing that was out there.

Mostly everyone in my country knew about me and my family, and noting from the medical staff’s reaction, they very well knew what I meant. In a flash, everyone scrambled to make sure everything I had requested was fulfilled.

“
How do you do that?” Kimberly asked, amazed.

“
Easy,” I replied. “Being a di Medici in this country literally means everything.”

“
Right,” was all she said.

Standing next to her, I threw her a quick glance, wanting and needing to know more about our baby.

“
What’s his name?”

“
Gian Luca.” She sent me a sad look.

“
You named him after me?” My heart rejoiced and broke a little bit more upon hearing her tell me his name.
She named him after me
. I silently reveled in the knowledge. My son.

Her gesture moved me beyond recognition. In truth, she didn’t have to do that. That had to mean something. I wasn’t sure why, but I felt as though it was her way of making it known he was mine, even though I had given her all the rights to the child.

Before I could break down and analyze her intentions, the doctor reappeared, banishing the other thoughts that weren’t solely focused on Gian Luca.

After a few quick tests, forms, and all the other things to be checked since I’d had a complicated surgery, I was cleared to have my blood drawn.

The medical staff led me to a room where they would perform the procedure. Gian Luca was apparently in another room, though Kimberly promised I would get to meet him once everything was done.

Needles weren’t all that appealing to me, yet I barely noticed any of it, too consumed in the knowledge that I would get to see my son.

I knew excitement should be the last thing on my mind, but it couldn’t be helped. Never had I considered this moment would happen so soon. I had imagined he might seek me out when he was older and was no longer under his mother’s care. However, I didn’t have to wonder any longer. I was going to meet him … for the first time … and I couldn’t bloody fucking wait.

Once the procedure was done, I was supposed to nibble on something light and hydrate since a hefty amount of blood had been drawn out of my system. The last thing I wanted to do was drink or eat, though. I wanted to walk to where my son was being cared for.

“
Why don’t you sit a while? Drink something to refresh yourself?” Kimberly asked the moment she saw me come out of room where they had held me up for a little less than an hour.

I shook my head. “Take me to him.” My son was all I required to be all right.

“
Okay. All right, Luca.” She conceded without any more interference. It was as if she understood my intrinsic need to be with him.

Entering a separate section of the Neo-natal Nursery Care Unit, she led me towards another set of double doors where the halls were much quieter, and the machines functioned in a hush echo. The vast difference made the ends of my hair stand out. My son was in delicate care, and his little self was fighting for his life. My throat constricted at the thought of him using all of his might and energy to fight something he hadn’t wished for.

The moment we stepped into the room, my world stopped spinning. It was as if I could see no one, not even Kimberly who was eagerly watching me.

The child was steps away from me in his tiny cubicle, swaddled from halfway down his body while the upper half was covered in a buttoned, baby-blue sweater. I supposed the sweater made it easier for the monitors to be attached to his chest while keeping him warm all at the same time.

Though the plastic mask to help him breathe mostly covered his face, his Italian features were distinctly mine. His nose gave it away. It was the same as mine, as well as my father’s and my grandfather’s.

I didn’t need a paternity test to tell me he was mine; I knew it with every fiber of my being. This baby was undoubtedly a di Medici.

“
Gian Luca,” I gently whispered as my eyes gathered him in. He was so tiny he barely fit in his baby clothes. “Mio bambino …” (
My baby boy.
) “Papa’s here.” Tears instantly gathered in my eyes as I watched his precious, little chest take in air. It was as though he was too weak to do it.

I was bombarded with overwhelming emotions. Above all, I was angry that my son had to go through something like this. He was so pure, so innocent. He had barely lived enough days until this sickness threatened to wreak havoc on his body.

Watching him in such a powerless state, I vowed to give him the best care possible. I didn’t care how much it cost as long as he became better. I wasn’t sure how we would be able to cure this disease, but I knew I was going to be there, holding my baby’s hand, fighting this fight alongside him.