Fighting For Mr. Beautiful: Eternal City Love, Book 2

  Fighting For

  Mr. Beautiful

  Eternal City Love, Book 2

  Caterina Passarelli

  Copyright © 2015 Caterina Passarelli

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without written permission from the author. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to peoples either living or deceased is purely coincidental. Names, places, incidents and characters are figments of the author’s imagination, or, if real, used fictitiously. The author recognizes the trademarks and copyrights of all registered products and works mentioned within this work.

  ISBN-13: 9780692556023

  ISBN-10: 0692556028

  Covered designed by Najla Qambers Designs

  For more, visit www.CaterinaPassarelliBooks.com

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  With Love

  1

  Leonardo

  “Call the police! Call the police!” I shout into the mob of gawkers surrounding me. As I’m holding Elena, I realize her lacy white top is now red … soaked in blood. Her blood. My mind is racing, and I can’t focus on anything except for this beautiful woman in my arms … suffering in pain.

  First responders get to us in minutes. Elena is being lifted into the back of the ambulance; she looks so small, and I jump in with her. I will not let her out of my sight for even a second. After whispering her love for me, she blacked out, and I can’t get her to respond or wake up.

  “She’s been shot! She won’t wake up!” I shout to anyone willing to listen. The paramedic looks at me, and I know he recognizes my face.

  “Signor Forte, we will do all we can,” he says to me as he cuts Elena’s romper to see where the bullet pierced her. I think it’s around her stomach, but I’m no doctor.

  It hits me on the ride to the hospital that this woman, who just tried to break up with me, is the same woman who took a bullet to save my life.

  The doctors have had her in surgery for over an hour now, and all I can do is pace the waiting room like a maniac. I haven’t been given any updates, and I feel like I’m either going to throw up or break everything in this damn place.

  She wanted us to be ‘more’ for so long and wanted a real relationship with me, and I fought her at every turn. I wanted her to see that I can’t do love or relationships—because it’s not what I know. I’m a billionaire CEO and an Italian one at that. Love isn’t supposed to be in my cards. Women only want me for my money or for a great fuck—which before Elena I was perfectly happy to provide. That was until she came in my life and turned everything upside down with her smart mouth, delicious body, and big heart. She pushed me to see that I can love someone, but she has no clue she’s had this effect on me. In fact, she tried breaking up right before the shooting happened, talking about how she’s not good enough for me—that’s fucking crazy talk! I need to tell her how I feel; she deserves that much. I am the one not good enough for her—it’s not the other way around.

  Pace, pace, pace—I can’t stop pacing. I’m going to wear a hole through this ugly, sterile, white hospital floor. The last time I was in a hospital waiting room was when my papa passed away. I can’t bare it. It smells like bleach and hand sanitizer, masking death and desperation. Fear pours out of the walls from each sick person and their family members. I’m on edge and I hate this feeling.

  I need to be in control; I’m always in control.

  When the ambulance brought us here the hospital staff tried to give me that ‘you aren’t family’ bullshit, but this one time I am happy that I can pull a few strings. ‘Not family,’ my ass. I will know every single detail about this woman, even if I have to buy this hospital to find out.

  Bella, you have to pull through this. God, you stubborn woman, you can’t leave me!

  I continue to pace when a group of people rush to the front desk speaking English loudly and waving their hands. Everyone in the room looks over at the commotion. They ask about Elena’s condition. Their faces display a mixture of shock and tears, and they’re begging for answers—this must be what I look like too. I’m reflected in their faces, her true family.

  “Excuse me, are you here for Elena Scott?”

  Five faces turn to look at me.

  “Holy shit! Leonardo Forte in the flesh,” a loud blonde says, wide-eyed and mouth open. “What’s going on with our girl? We booked the first flight out of Michigan when we heard the news. Tell us something, anything!”

  We’ll get to introductions later I guess; I know her family must be dying for any information. I would be too.

  “Elena was pierced by a bullet in the spleen. She’s in surgery right now. That’s all I’ve been told,” I say, looking at their panicked faces, wishing I had more to share.

  “Who shot her?” a middle-aged woman, who I’m assuming is Elena’s mother, says in a whisper. She looks like she’s seen a ghost.

  “The police are still looking for the person responsible. We were in a crowded area on a public street when the shooting took place. It came out of nowhere. Witnesses are saying different things. I think the only person who actually got a good look at the shooter was Elena.”

  “Why would someone shoot her? This doesn’t make any sense. Elena doesn’t have any enemies,” says a tall older man with grey hair, who I guess is her father. Under any other circumstances, I would feel nervous to meet the father for the first time, but right now we all feel the same thing: anxiety.

  “The shooter wasn’t aiming for Elena. Their aim was on me, but Elena jumped in front of me. She saved my life.” I can’t meet their eyes when I say this, and I can’t even accept the fact myself. She put herself in harm’s way for me. She could die because of me. No one has ever done anything as selfless for me before, ever.

  “Fuck. No way? Man, she’s got it bad for you Leo,” the blonde says. Who the hell is this girl?

  We walk towards the sitting area and gather around each other for support.

  “I’m Rebecca, Elena’s mom,” says the middle-aged woman with medium length brown hair—the same color as her daughter’s—as she puts out her hand.

  After what I just told them, I’m surprised they still want to talk to me. It’s my fault their daughter is in this hospital and the reason they feel distressed. But I grab her hand quickly before she has a chance to change her mind.

  “Leonardo,” I say, shaking hands with her father, Steven, her sister, Christina, and her brother, Ian. The crazy blonde turns out to be her best friend, Sophie. With the formal introductions out of the way, we sit down and play the waiting game.

  A half an hour later, a doctor walks towards the waiting area and we all fall silent. Please tell me my cara is okay.

  “Signor Forte,” the doctor says, as he nods in the direction of Elena’s family, “I take it you are her family?”

  “Yes,” her sister says on behalf of the silent group. We all wait on the edge of our seats.

  “I have good news. Elena is out of surgery. We were able to locate and remove the bullet, but we did have to perform an emergency surgery to remove her spleen. She lost a lot of blood. Currently she’s unconscious. Her vital signs are good though bec
ause she is young and was in good physical condition, but we do not know when she will wake up.”

  I let out a deep breath and feel lightheaded. Thank God!

  “Thank you doctor!” Sophie shouts as she rushes from her chair and embraces the doctor in a huge bear hug. The doctor’s eyes bug out at first—I’m sure he’s not used to this ‘in your face’ type of reaction—but he hugs Sophie back and smiles.

  “A nurse will come out and let you know when it’s okay to go back and see Elena,” the doctor says before leaving us alone in the waiting room.

  Rebecca and Steven hug each other and their kids. It’s nice to see a family together. In this moment, I wonder what it would be like if my papa were still alive. I would guess my mom would be a hell of a lot different. Right now, she’s cold as ice towards everyone except me.

  Before I can ponder that idea, a nurse comes over and lets us know we can go back to Elena’s room in the ICU in about ten minutes—two at a time.

  The nurse pulls me aside to let me know about my earlier request.

  “Signor Forte, I know you want to take care of Elena’s medical bills. I need you to fill out these forms,” she says, handing me a clipboard full of papers.

  “Sorry, not to intrude, but did I hear her say you were going to pay for Elena’s medical bills?” Sophie chimes in.

  I don’t want to make a big deal about this in front of her family or have the hospital ask them for any money. We should focus on Elena’s health, not how the bills are going to get paid, especially when I can take care of them so easily.

  “Si, it’s no big deal,” I say, waving it off as I fill out the forms so I can quickly hand them back to the nurse without drawing more attention to this.

  “This is a very big deal,” Sophie says, getting louder and attracting the attention of her whole family. “Elena is going to be so pissed!”

  Pissed?

  “What the hell are you talking about?” I say, quickly realizing I’m too loud too; Elena’s family members turn to stare at us. Remain calm Leo, you are in front of her family, even if her best friend is insane.

  “Elena does not take charity. Why would you have to pay anyway? Don’t they have her insurance information?”

  “She works in a caffé. I didn’t even know she had insurance,” I say, and Sophie busts out laughing. I’m definitely going to talk to Elena about her choice in friends. This one needs to go—she’s no good for her.

  “She works in a coffee shop? I didn’t even know she knew how to turn on a coffee pot,” her brother Ian says as he laughs too.

  What the hell is with these people? Maybe they are still in shock?

  “Elena hasn’t told you yet, I’m guessing?” Sophie looks at me again with a smirk. “I told her she needed to, but I see the advice of her wise best friend means nothing to her.”

  “Told me what?”

  I feel irritated now. Everyone is part of this big game, but I’m not allowed to play.

  “Elena doesn’t need you to pay her medical bills. She’s a millionaire … and she definitely has health insurance,” Christina chimes in.

  “A millionaire? From selling shots of espresso? What are you talking about?” My mind races a hundred miles-per-hour. Why is she working in a coffee shop? How is she a millionaire? And why didn’t she tell me any of this? And how stupid do I look right now?

  “Elena owns Rock Star Media, the largest social media marketing firm in the United States. She came to Italy to relax after things were getting a little crazy back at home,” Sophie says.

  I feel like someone has pulled a chair out from under me. Why wouldn’t Elena tell me this? Does it matter to me? No, not at all. For richer or for poorer. Fuck did I just think about wedding vows? What is going on with me?

  “I think I need a minute of fresh air,” I say and start to walk towards the front doors of the hospital, but I’m quickly stopped by Mateo, my right-hand man.

  “You don’t want to go out there boss. The paparazzi have been camped out and they are waiting for anything. Vultures,” he warns. Mateo has worked for my family since I was a little kid. He used to be in the Italian army and then served on the police force. Now he’s my bodyguard and driver, and for just about anything else I need help with, he’s there. I trust his advice.

  “Grazie Mateo.”

  2

  Elena

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  My head pounds, surrounded by loud beeps. What did I do last night? Did I go out clubbing? I can’t remember anything. Holy crap! Why is my stomach killing me? My throat is also on fire and it’s incredibly dry.

  Alright Elena, open your eyes and face what you’ve gotten yourself into. This is the worst hangover in the history of hangovers.

  3 … 2 … 1.

  Eyes open. I’m in a hospital. Why am I in a hospital? The beeps come from big machines, and I’ve got IVs sticking out of everywhere. It looks like I’m alone in this room as well. I start to panic.

  Wake up Elena, this is just a bad dream. A nightmare.

  Before I can start to press a red button, a redhead nurse opens the door and walks into my room. She looks shocked I’m awake. Surprise! Get me out of here!

  The nurse calls for help. Is she speaking Italian? Okay this must really be some bizarre dream. Did I eat sushi last night? I have the strangest dreams after I eat sushi.

  An entire team of nurses and a doctor now surrounds me. I hear talk of my vital signs, and charts are passed around.

  My Italian may be a little rusty but I swear I hear the words spleen, consciousness, family, and shooter.

  “Elena, how do you feel?” a man with a black bushy mustache asks. The look behind his glasses shows concerned eyes.

  I start to speak but I feel a thousand needles stabbing my throat.

  “I could really use a glass of water.”

  The team looks shocked—like I’ve said something wrong—but a glass of water is suddenly placed in front of me. I chug the entire thing and look up as everyone stares, but no one says a word. I know they are waiting for me to speak again.

  “Why am I in a hospital?”

  I read all of their faces, looking for any clues as to the pain I’m feeling.

  “Elena, you were shot in the spleen and had to have emergency surgery to remove it. You are okay, but it will take some time to heal, probably a few weeks. You’ve been unconscious for three days.”

  I was shot! What in the hell happened?!

  “Shot … me? Are you serious? I don’t understand. Who shot me?”

  As my mind races, I notice I’m getting tunnel vision and the room grows darker and darker before my eyes close again. The last thing I hear before I pass out is a nurse shouting my name.

  Leonardo

  Elena woke up and then fell unconscious for two more days. It’s been five days in this hellish hospital. When the doctors did get a chance to speak to her, they said she was confused, but they also said this is normal. I’ve been living at this hospital, along with Elena’s family and Sophie.

  Work is on hold, my life is on hold, and I can’t seem to function without knowing Elena is okay. More than okay—I want to hold her in my arms, take her home with me, kiss her, and tell her I love her.

  We’ve all been able to go back and sit in the room with her while we wait. I can’t take it though, seeing her lying in that bed so fragile and hearing the machines beeping. It all makes me crazy.

  I want to pick her up out of the bed and shake her awake.

  I want to hear her tease me and call me that ridiculous nickname, “Mr. Beautiful.”

  I want to smack her glorious round ass as she walks in front of me.

  I want to laugh at all the crazy sarcastic shit she manages to come up with.

  I want to take her out and watch other men’s jaws drop when she turns their heads, but know that she’s all mine.

  I want to tell her that I’m over this ‘friends’ or ‘lovers’ bullshit—I want to be with her, forever.

  I just
want her to wake the fuck up.

  Elena

  I don’t want to open my eyes because I know what I’ll find: a hospital room. I remember just a few minutes ago—wait, was it a few minutes ago?—that I opened my eyes and saw the doctor and nurses surrounding me. Apparently, I’ve been shot, which still baffles me.

  I hear the loudest breathing and realize I’m not alone in this room! It’s time to face the person snoring next to my bed.

  “Sophie!” I say when I realize my best friend is asleep in the chair. Her long blonde hair is tied in a wild bun and her clothes look like she’s been sleeping in them for days. I know she’s uncomfortable. I realize I must have barely whispered her name before.

  “Sophie! Wake your ass up.”

  This time Soph jumps up out of the chair and nearly falls onto my bed.

  “Elena, holy shit! I’m so glad you’re awake,” she says with tears streaming from her big blue eyes. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my tough-as-nails bestie cry before. Oh man, now she’s going to make me cry.

  “Oh no! Elena, why are you crying? Are you hurt?”

  Sophie looks at me like I’m a flimsy doll.

  “No! Well, yes, but that’s not why I’m crying. I’m crying because you’re crying,” I say as the snot runs out of my nose.

  Sophie busts out laughing and then I can’t help but do the same. My gut hurts—I need to stop laughing! We’re a mess of tears, snot, and laughter when the redhead nurse walks into the room and stares at us like we are a bunch of damn fools.

  “What, you’ve never seen anyone cry-laugh before?” Sophie says in her brass way. The nurse leaves the room but is back in an instant with the same male doctor I saw earlier—his name badge reads ‘Dr. Costa.’

  “Elena, it’s nice to see you laughing,” he says as he grabs a chart and jots down some information from the machine I’m hooked up to. Sophie hands me a tissue and a glass of water—it’s like she read my mind.

  “Can someone please tell me what’s going on? Earlier you told me I was shot?”

  “Earlier? Elena the last time we spoke was four days ago.”