He hadn't exactly walked away from it, but he was standing now. He forced himself not to wince as he donned his jacket. Once the material settled over his arms and shoulders, he looked the way his brothers looked, a fit male, intimidating, imposing even.
There was a rustle at the door. His brothers Giovanni and Taviano moved aside to allow the doctor and nurse to enter. The doctor glared at all of them. The nurse kept her eyes on the floor. He noted her hands were shaking. She didn't want to confront the Ferraros, but had no choice when the surgeon insisted on saying his piece.
"You shouldn't be up, Mr. Ferraro," Dr. Townsend said.
"I'm fine," Ricco assured. "And very grateful to you." That had to be said whether it was a lie or not – and he honestly didn't know if it was.
"I refuse to release you. You could have blood clots, an aneurism, any number of complications," the doctor continued.
"I won't." Ricco gave them the look every Ferraro had perfected before their tenth birthday. His eyes were cold and flat and hard. Both the doctor and nurse immediately moved back. That, at least, was satisfying. He took another step toward them and they parted to allow him through. He might look like hell, and feel worse, but he was still formidable.
"I want the boxes of cards, but you can distribute the flowers to other hospital patients," Ricco continued, ignoring Stefano's frown. He knew what that meant. Stefano would want to talk to his doctor. A shadow rider could hear lies and compel truth – even from someone in the medical field. He kept walking, knowing his brother would never let him walk out to face the reporters alone.
"You're leaving against medical advice," the doctor reiterated.
Ricco didn't slow down. Immediately, his brothers and Emmanuelle fell into step around him. Surrounding him. Shoulder to shoulder. Solidarity. The moment he was outside his hospital room, his cousins Emilio and Enzo Gallo moved in front of them. Tomas and Cosimo Abatangelo, also first cousins, dropped in behind. The cousins always acted as bodyguards for the Ferraros, and Ricco knew he needed them. He might say he was ready to leave the hospital, but he wasn't. His body needed rest desperately as well as time to heal. He just couldn't do it there.
The press had been all over the accident, trying to sneak into the hospital and get photographs of him covered in bandages. One nurse had been suspended while they investigated the fact that she'd taken numerous pictures of Ricco unconscious and sold them to the tabloids. There had been several other attempts by orderlies and a janitor. Anyone getting a picture of playboy billionaire Ricco Ferraro after he'd crashed his race car in a fiery display stood to make hundreds of thousands of dollars.
"Did Eloisa come to visit you?" Stefano asked, walking in perfect step with him.
Ricco glanced at him, one eyebrow raised. "I crashed, Stefano. Not perfect. Why would you think our mother would ever come to visit me when I showed the world I was less than perfect?" Stefano had raised them, not Eloisa.
Stefano glanced at Francesca. "I thought she was attempting to turn over a new leaf. Guess I was wrong."
Ricco didn't answer. He knew Francesca had been trying to make peace with Eloisa, but his mother didn't have one maternal instinct in her body. He couldn't care less. They'd had Stefano growing up, and he'd watched out for them – just as he was doing now. His oldest brother might be annoying, but Stefano loved his siblings. A. Lot. And he looked after them. It was something they all counted on.
Ricco hated that he'd caused his brothers and sister so much concern. He knew he had to change, turn his life around. It was time. He just didn't know how.
"Ready?" Stefano asked as they approached the double doors leading to the parking lot. No one broke stride, all moving with the same confident step. The town car had already been brought to the entrance. It was only a few feet away, but the paparazzi, several rows deep, had flashes already going off.
"Yeah," Ricco said. He wasn't. He could barely walk upright. Every single step jarred his body and reminded him he was human.
He was afraid he would fall before he reached the privacy of the car, but he kept walking. He had to get out of the hospital before he lost his mind. He'd had his own private wing complete with bodyguards, but that hadn't stopped the madness of the press or his fear that they'd catch him at his most vulnerable.
Stefano and the rest of his siblings had stayed the three weeks he was kept unconscious, at least that was what Francesca had whispered to him. They only left if a job was imperative. Once he was awake, it was mainly Stefano with him while the others took care of work. He felt their love, and in that moment, facing the paparazzi with his siblings surrounding him, he knew it had been worth every sacrifice he'd made to protect them. He'd do it all over again in a heartbeat.