All I've Never Wanted(127)

James stared at me pityingly, a slightly sad look in his eyes. “Like I said, I’m really sorry it had to be you.”

Then he reached into his bag again, only this time, instead of pulling out a bottle of water, he pulled out a large, gleaming butcher’s knife.

My heart stopped.

“It’s nothing personal. But you have to understand. I have to keep my promise.”

I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. All I could focus on was that knife. I pictured him bringing it down, the sharp blade cutting through my flesh, the life slowly draining from me as I bled to death, morbid thoughts that were overtaken by flashes of my life so far.

My first time riding a bike. My twelfth birthday party. My parents’ faces. Venice. Carlo. Adriana. Parker. Zack. Roman. My throat closed up and tears stung my eyes as I pictured his face. I couldn’t believe I wasn’t going to ever see him again.

James raised the knife, and I closed my eyes, bracing myself for the pain.

But it never came.

The sound of the door slamming open burst through the air, followed by a startled shout, and more than a few angry ones.

My eyes flew open, and I gaped at the scene in front of him. Tattoo Guy was back, only this time he was being pinned and beaten down by Carlo and…holy shit, was that Rico?

I guess martial arts greatness ran in the family.

To the side, Parker was speaking frantically into his phone, while Zack held a wriggling brown-and-white ball of fluff in his arms. I realized with relief it was Mickey.

However, most of my attention was focused on James and Roman, both of them intent of killing the other.

I watched in horror as James managed to throw Roman onto the ground and raised his knife once again.

“No!” I cried, attempting to stand but failing. Then, a mass of dark hair flew past as both Carlo and Rico tackled James to the ground, but not before the knife lodged itself into Roman’s chest.

Forgetting once again that I was tied down, I lunged out of my chair, only this time, I actually managed to get out of my seat. Dimly, I realized Zack and Parker must’ve untied me without me even realizing it.

I ran over to Roman’s side, clapping a hand over my mouth at the blood pouring out of his wound. His face was drawn and pale, and he looked more vulnerable than I’d ever seen him.

I could hear the others shouting around me. I could hear Mickey’s barking. I could hear sirens in the background. But all I could focus on was Roman.

Roman, who was currently unconscious. His lip was split, and there was a giant bruise on one side of his face, not to mention more than a few smaller cuts. I couldn’t even see them all clearly thanks to the thick tears blurring my vision.

I could hear someone calling my name in the background, but I ignored them. I didn’t move. When the police and ambulances finally arrived, that was how they found me, kneeling by Roman’s side, clutching him desperately, and unable to let go.

CHAPTER 29

I’ve always hated hospitals.

I know it’s a pretty cliché thing to say—after all, who actually likes hospitals?—but there’s something about the smell, the sterile halls, and the jaded attitudes of nurses and doctors that creeped me out.

Plus, hospital food sucks. Although, it can’t really suck if someone isn’t awake to eat it.

My heart squeezed at the thought, and I drummed my fingers nervously against my thigh as Carlo pulled into the hospital’s parking lot. The car barely had a chance to come to a stop before I flung open the door and raced across the parking lot, through the lobby, and up to the fifth floor, where Roman’s room was.

Carlo didn’t bother to tell me to slow down. After a week, everyone knew it was useless.


When I reached the familiar, blindingly white hallway, I was startled to see everyone was already there. We all visited, of course, but rarely at the same time.

Venice was curled up in an armchair in the waiting area, her red hair tousled. She was half-asleep, her head resting on Zack’s shoulder, while the blond chugged from a bottle of Frappuccino. Half a dozen identical bottles littered the table next to him.

Parker was sprawled out on the couch, and for once, the playboy looked scruffy and unkempt, a five o’clock shadow darkening his sculpted chin. He was staring at the floor with a depressed look on his face. Beside him, even Adriana was as dressed down as I’d ever seen in her. She wore a T-shirt, jeans, and almost no makeup, and was staring off into space.

The person I couldn’t help but focus on, though, was Giselle. Roman’s mother, usually so elegant (even when she was drunk), was pacing the floor outside his room, her face pale and drawn, etched with lines of worry. I’ve never seen anyone so frazzled, and my heart went out to her.

Despite what Roman said, I knew she really loved him. He was, after all, her son.

Although the same couldn’t be said for his father. A sour taste crept into my mouth as I thought about Mr. Fiori. He’d made a brief appearance the night Roman was stabbed, then promptly flew to China for a business merger that was, apparently, more important than a comatose son.

“Any change?” I asked, making sure to keep my voice low. This was the type of environment where everyone spoke in whispers.

“No.” Parker sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I swear, if that f*ckin’ James wasn’t in police custody, I would—“