His Mafia Prince

(TYLER)

In the end, we don’t even make it to the next morning in the hospital. We sneak out in the middle of the night like criminals, or something.

I don’t mind. I want to get out of the hospital as soon as we can, and Sasha wanted to go under cover of dark, to make it harder for our enemies to track us.

There’s some discussion of how to get Sasha from the car into the house, since he can’t walk yet. He won’t let anyone carry him, and when Miles suggests putting a wooden ramp over the stairs at the front to wheel a chair up, you can imagine how fucking well that goes down.

In the end, Sasha consents to Marco helping him limp up the steps, watchers be damned. Marco, who has insisted on staying here in the brownstone with us while we’re still in the city, takes his nephew up the steps faster than he should have in my opinion, though not as fast as he should in Sasha’s, so by the time we get into the house, there are a lot of sore feelings going around.

Miles checks in with Giulio, who’s been hovering in the background like staff, despite being one of the current residents of the place. Marco puts Sasha on the sofa and looks around the old house with fond, nostalgic eyes, and then Fabio sweeps into the room like the absolute angel he is, with artisan hot chocolate for everyone.

For a second, I see Marco and Sasha thinking they’re too tough for hot chocolate. I legit see the thought chugging through Sasha’s brain and into Marco’s like a little steam-engine train, but as soon Fabio presses a mug into their hands and they smell it, they sit there silently and drink it up like good little boys.

I walk after Fabio when he moves to put the tray down on a side table, where I take my mug from the tray.

"Nice work," I murmur to him, and he gives me his familiar, anxious smile. Fabio never seems to look at me fully, always shooting glances or side-eyes. I have no idea why I make him so nervous.

"Thank you, Tyler."

"Sasha," I say, going over to him, "you need to take your meds."