Bianca stopped in her tracks, questioning if she had misheard.
What did Bert just say? Go home? Whose home?
She turned to him, her expression a mix of shock and confusion.
Bert didn’t seem to notice the weight of his words. Calm and unbothered, he walked to his car, opened the passenger door, and asked, “Not getting in?”
She didn’t respond immediately, staying rooted in place, her emotions too tangled to make sense of.
“I’ve booked a hotel downtown,” she said. Her refusal was polite, deliberately so, but she knew Bert would understand the underlying message.
As a Mafia princess, Bianca shouldn’t have much contact with someone like Bert-a regular man. It would only bring him unnecessary trouble and jeopardize Sienna’s efforts to protect him.
If Bert had even the slightest sense of danger, he would close his car door and drive away.
But he didn’t. Instead, he nodded, his voice as calm as ever. “I’ll take you home.” He paused, then added, “But before that, you need to meet someone with me.”
Bianca froze, not knowing who he was referring to.
Their connection was minimal, and they shared even fewer mutual acquaintances.
“Sienna?” she guessed.
But as soon as the name left her lips, she dismissed the thought. Today was September 22nd, and Philadelphia was hosting a grand coronation for Sienna. There was no chance she’d be in Mexico.
“It’s not her,” Bert denied quickly.
If not Sienna, then who?
“Get in the car,” Bert said, glancing at his watch. His tone remained composed, though there was a trace of urgency. “He’s been busy lately, and it’s not easy to schedule time with him.”
Bianca hesitated, staring at him silently.
Bert waited with her, the quiet tension stretching between them.
Despite his busy schedule, he didn’t push her, simply standing there with a patience that was both firm and strangely understanding.
She knew she should feel irritated, should snap at him for deciding her plans without her consent.
But instead, she felt a twinge of guilt-a feeling utterly foreign to someone like her. A Mafia princess should never feel guilt, much less compromise so easily.
“I just want to rest at the hotel,” she said, her tone softer than usual.
“No problem,” Bert responded calmly. “I won’t take much of your time. How about thirty minutes?”
Faced with his concession, she found herself agreeing. “If you insist.”
She slid into the passenger seat, signaling her bodyguards to follow Bert’s car.
To her surprise, their destination was closer than expected. Only ten minutes later, Bert parked the car in a roadside space and gestured for her to follow him into a white building.
It was a cafe.
“Welcome! What can I get for you?” The staff, dressed in brown aprons, greeted them with warm smiles.
“What would you like?” Bert asked, handing her the menu after glancing at it briefly.
Bianca blinked at him, puzzled. Was he only here to grab a cup of coffee?
“Need me to remind you, Mr. Falcone?” she said dryly. “You only have 18 minutes left.”
The clock was ticking, and now there were just 17 minutes remaining.
Bert adjusted his glasses, his tone as gentle as ever. “Iced Americano? Or perhaps a cappuccino?”
Bianca couldn’t read him at all. “Iced Americano, thanks,” she replied.
Bert nodded, handed the menu back, and ordered, “Two iced Americanos and one mocha.” Then he added, “Is Garrett in his office? I’ve booked time with him.”
The staff’s demeanor shifted instantly at the mention of Garrett’s name. They became noticeably more enthusiastic. “Are you Mr. Falcone?”
“Yes.”
“Garrett has been expecting you. Please, follow me.”
Bianca’s curiosity piqued. Garrett? The name sounded familiar.
The staff led them past the counter to an elevator only accessible to employees. “Take this up to the third floor,” they instructed.
“Thank you,” Bert said politely. “Could you send the coffee to Garrett’s office?”
“Of course.”
As the elevator doors closed, Bianca finally voiced her question. “Garrett?”
“He’s a doctor,” Bert explained simply.
The answer clicked in her mind. Garrett was the doctor Bert had invited to check on her-a visit she had canceled last minute.
Was Bert bringing her here to apologize?
The elevator dinged, and before the doors had fully opened, a boisterous voice rang out.
“Hey, Bert! You finally decided to visit my lab. Interested in making an investment?” A man in a doctor’s coat spoke with a teasing tone, a black pen tucked into his chest pocket.
Then his gaze fell on Bianca, and he froze for a second before dramatically adjusting his collar and stepping forward.
“Well, who do we have here?” he said theatrically, taking her hand in his. “Lovely to meet you, Bert’s Sleeping Beauty.”
Bianca’s jaw dropped slightly. “Sleeping Beauty?”
Bert, clearly unamused, cut in with a warning. “Garrett.”
“Apologies for my boldness,” Garrett said, entirely unapologetic, as he kissed the back of Bianca’s hand. “But your beauty is truly captivating. May I invite you to dinner?”
Bert’s friend was… amusing, to say the least.
Before she could respond, Bert checked his watch and reminded her, “Thirteen minutes left.”
Garrett blinked in confusion. “Thirteen minutes? What does that mean?”
The thirty-minute limit had been her idea, but suddenly Bianca felt a mischievous urge to play along.
She tightened her grip on Garrett’s hand and smiled sweetly. “It’s fine,” she said. “For someone like you, Dr. Garrett, I could spare more than a few ‘thirteen minutes.'”
Garrett was both flattered and confused, his face a mix of delight and bewilderment.
“And your name, beautiful lady?” he asked.
“Bianca Luciano,” she replied smoothly.
“A beautiful name for a beautiful woman-”
“And a bleeding corpse,” Bert interrupted coldly.
“Corpse?” Garrett’s tone wavered between alarm and intrigue. Then his eyes widened. “Oh no, you’re bleeding!”
Bianca glanced down at her abdomen. Blood was soaking through her shirt, spreading rapidly.
The bleeding was getting worse.