Page 111 of Mafia Obsession

Ares draws out a seat from the meeting table and waits for me to sit before he does. “Now start over, Dr. Masters. Please, from the beginning.”

Theneurosurgeonsummarizes his opinion of my sister’s initial injuries and her progress over the last five years. Or lack of. Referencing recent CAT scans in her file, he explains she’s plateaued in her progress. And that often occurs with long-termstabilization without targeted rehabilitation.

I pull my hands into my lap. “I was right, she’s moving backward?”

“Correct.” He continues on, discussing other patients he’s treated, keeping their identities confidential.

Veterans who returned from war with traumatic brain injuries, like Sandrine, who also relearned to speak and walk, athletes who rebuilt coordination after similar catastrophic injuries, and how structured programs that do more than house a patient but actively engage the brain to repair itself, led to their recoveries.

“In conclusion, it’s my professional opinion that your sister is not beyond improvement.” Dr. Masters meets my eyes, his tone firm but not falsely optimistic. “She has been stabilized. She’s not received the necessary treatment to restore her memory.”

For years, I measured hope in teaspoons, convincing myself that comfort was the ceiling. A safe bed, meals, and warmth. Even her classes are a luxury I paid for with what little I was able to save.

Ares’s hand closes around mine, solid and warm. “Lourdes is to be my wife in a few weeks,” he says to Dr. Masters, sounding proud. “Your patient is my family. I expect a comprehensive evaluation, a structured rehabilitation plan, and measurable progress. Spare no resource or expense.”

There is no bluster in his tone. This is not another negotiation. This is something he wants and won’t take no for an answer.

I am to be his wife.

I know what this will cost me. Marry Ares Zervas and my sister will be taken care of. I have nothing else to offer. He wants me.Justme.

I’ll take it as it comes. Adjust to my new life while Sandrine gets the treatment she needs for a better one. I’ll call Elodie in a few days and break the news that we won’t be moving to Arizona.

After I quickly shower, I choose a pair of dress slacks and asweater from the clothes Ares brought me. He takes the three of us to the facility in his rented limo and agrees to wait in the car. He adorably bundles me up in a scarf that he packed for me, too. Now the Chicago winter wind won’t turn me into a solid block of ice.

“Remember, please call her Jessica,” I murmur to Dr. Masters as we approach her room. “Her name was changed. I hope it’s okay if I don’t reveal her real name to you.”

He nods with a thoughtful gaze toward me. “Eventually reintroducing her given name may stimulate associative memory. That must be done strategically. From what I’ve read in her patient chart, she’s not ready yet.”

When we enter the common room, Sandrine is holding a puzzle piece and staring at a partially completed puzzle on an activity table. Her expression shifts to elation when she snaps in the piece.

I move toward her. “Morning, sweetie.”

“Lourdes,” she says, looking up at me.

I kiss her forehead and sit next to her at the table. “Jess, this is Dr. Masters, a specialist from New York. He wanted to meet you.”

He sits on the other side of my sister, and I watch as he gently coaxes information from her with strategic questions. My hand hovers over my phone with the impulse to text Ares to come inside. I feel empty without him, but I resist. I need him to know I can handle this.

Later, when Dr. Masters and I step back into the hallway, Ares is waiting in the vestibule. I nearly break into a run. When I reach him, I hug him, overwhelmed with tears.

“How’d it go?” His arms close around me.

“It went great.” I look up at him, smiling, feeling the best I’ve felt in a really long time.

“I have what I need,” Dr. Masters says, checking his watch. “However, I must get back to New York as soon as possible, Mr. Zervas.”

“I will ready my jet for you, Charles,” Ares says and takes out his phone.

“Are you going back to New York, too?” I ask him, myvoice breaking.

With a phone to his ear, he leans forward and brushes a kiss on my mouth. “Not without you.”

Chapter 44

Ares

The warmth in the rented limousine is the only thing it has going for it. The rest borders on offensive. I will not be giving this company a 5-star review. Three maybe. I sit in the shadow of the rehabilitation facility, a blurred geometry of bricks, mortar, and no character.