Trapped (Sinners of Boston #5)

20. Delilah

TWENTY

DELILAH

The warmth of the Italian sun embraced me as I stepped out of the car. We’d landed an hour ago in Florence. The only time I’d been abroad was a brief trip to St. Petersburg when I was a toddler. Our drive was quiet, filled with the lush, rolling hills and sprawling vineyards of Tuscany.

The villa was gorgeous with its ivy-covered walls and terracotta roof. The housekeeper, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a warm smile, greeted us outside.

“Welcome, Miss Delilah, Mr. Costa,” she said, her accent thick and melodious. “We have everything prepared for you.”

The interior was just as breathtaking. High ceilings with exposed wooden beams, large windows flooding the rooms with sunlight, and a mix of antique and modern furnishings gave it a timeless charm.

Santino watched me as though eager for my approval. “This was my grandmother’s home.”

“Beautiful.” I gaped at the rows of grapes in the backyard. “I’m going to get sober in a vineyard?”

“We don’t make wine. We sell the grapes.”

“I see.”

He squeezed my hand. “Don’t worry, principessa. You won’t find a drop of alcohol anywhere on this property.”

“Okay, but you still haven’t told me why we’re here.”

“There’s too much drama in Boston right now.”

“You’re being cryptic. What are we running from?”

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the vineyard before settling on me. “I did something against my boss’s orders. He’s not happy with me. We had to leave before things got complicated.”

“What did you do?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I hate being kept in the dark.”

He smiled. “It’s not something you need to concern yourself with. I’m handling it.”

“But I’m involved, aren’t I? I left everything behind. I have to know what’s happening.”

“And you will. I promise. But I need you to focus on your health.”

I tried to shake off the nagging feeling that his secrets were more dangerous than the truths he shared, but I wanted to believe in the man who’d swept me away to Italy.

He transferred his grip to my hand. “There’s somebody I want you to meet in town. He’s a doctor. He’s going to help you.”

The sterile smell of antiseptic clung to the air as I sat on the edge of the examination table. The room was cold, and the paper sheet beneath me crinkled with every movement. Santino stood beside me, his arms crossed over his chest, watching me with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine.

“Relax,” he ordered.

“Easy for you to say,” I muttered, fiddling with the hem of my sweater. “You’re not the one being poked and prodded.”

“It’s for your own good. I want you healthy.”

The door opened, and Dr. Moretti entered, clipboard in hand. He greeted us with a polite nod.

“Delilah,” he began, glancing at the notes. “I’ve reviewed your bloodwork and some of the preliminary tests.”

My stomach twisted. “And?”

Dr. Moretti looked at me, then at Santino, before settling his gaze back on me. “Your liver enzymes are elevated, which is typical for someone who’s been drinking heavily. There’s no immediate damage, but it’s a warning sign. Your body’s under a lot of stress, and we must address this before it becomes a serious issue.”

The doctor’s expression darkened. “Detoxing can be dangerous. We need to manage it to avoid withdrawal symptoms. We’ll gradually reduce your intake over the next few days. It’s safer than stopping abruptly, which can cause seizures.”

A shiver ran through me at the thought.

“We’ll monitor you closely,” he assured me. “I’ll prescribe medications to help.”

Santino’s hand found mine, his grip warm.

“Hydration will be key. Drink plenty of water, and avoid caffeine and sugar, which can make the withdrawal worse. Eat balanced meals. Your body will need the nutrients to recover.”

I nodded. I’d gone through this before. “And what about… when I feel like I need a drink?”

The doctor’s gaze was sympathetic. “That’s a normal part of recovery. When cravings hit, find something to distract yourself. Go for a walk, call someone, engage in an activity that keeps your mind off it.”

Santino squeezed my hand. “I’ll help you through this.”

Dr. Moretti gave him an approving nod. “Support is crucial.”

I’d never had someone like Santino in my corner. Maybe I could get through it without falling apart.

Dr. Moretti smiled gently. “You’re taking the first step towards a healthier life. It’s not easy, but it’s worth it. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to reach out.”

After a few more instructions and a prescription for medication, Dr. Moretti left the room, leaving Santino and me alone.

I looked down, my fingers twisting in my lap. “I’ve tried to quit before. It never sticks.”

He reached out, lifting my chin so I met his gaze. His eyes were a storm of emotion. “This time will be different.”

“What makes you so sure?”

His thumb brushed over my lower lip, sending a thrill through me. “Because you have me.”

My heart pounded. “But why do you care so much?”

“I need you healthy. Not just for you. For us.”

“ Us ?”

“Yes. I’ve got plans for us, and they don’t include you drowning in a bottle.”

“A future together?” I asked.

He smiled. “One step at a time. First, you need to take care of yourself.”

My breathing hitched, imagining the future he envisioned. One filled with stability, commitment, and…a baby. My pulse raced. I’d never let anyone get close enough to want that with me, but Santino was different. He made me feel things I didn’t know I was capable of feeling.

I swallowed hard. “I don’t know if I can.”

His grip on my waist tightened. “You’re stronger than you think.”

I leaned into him, his steady heartbeat lulling me into peace. Santino held me tight as if he could shield me from the world. Maybe he could. Maybe everything would be okay.

But deep down, I knew the truth.

Nothing about us was safe.