His mouth flattens into a line, and then he nods once. “I’m going to give you a list of things to watch for. If even one of them shows up, you need to call an ambulance right away. I mean it.”
It’s brutal standing back and watching them care for her. I feel helpless. She screams when they move her shoulder, but it’s not dislocated—just wrenched badly. She whimpers when they poke and prod to see if anything is broken.
They hook her up to an IV and start pumping her full of antibiotics and morphine to help with the pain. Before long, she’s settled back on the big couch with fresh dressings, a blanket, and orders to stay and rest for at least a week.
I’ll personally see to it that she fucking obeys that order.
After my men leave, I return to her and gently brush her hair off her face.
“Sorry,” she murmurs drunkenly.
“For what?”
“You’re mad.”
I sigh and lean over to press my lips to her forehead. “Not at you. When I find out who did this, I’ll kill them.”
“Get in line.”
“Do you know who it was?”
She licks her swollen lips. “No. Couldn’t see. Water?”
“Of course.”
I hurry to the kitchen and fill a glass with crushed ice, and then bring it back to her.
“Here, suck on this.”
“Mm.” She sucks greedily on a chunk. “Nice.”
“I’ll be right here, Nadia. I’m not going anywhere. You sleep now and get healed up so you can kick some ass.”
“Yeah.” She sighs but reaches for my hand. “Stay.”
“I told you, I’m here. I promise, I won’t go.”
“’Kay.”
She slips into sleep, and I pull my hand down my face.
What the fuck? An hour ago, I wanted to spank her ass. Now, I want to protect her, fight for her. Keep her safe.
Because the truth is, she has gotten under my skin. That doesn’t mean I trust her, but she didn’t deserve this.
* * *
“King me.”
Nadia scowls down at the checkerboard. “You’re cheating.”
“Negative.” I stand and walk into the kitchen to get more chips.
We’ve been in the penthouse for five days. She slept the first three away, allowing her body to heal.
And now she’s up and showered, her arm in a sling, scowling at me over a checkerboard.
“Is there any queso left?”
“No, you ate it all last night. At least your appetite is back.”
“Yeah, well, I like food. You know that.”
I grin, thinking back on all of the fun meals we’d had together. “I do. Watching you eat isn’t a hardship. Where have you been staying? I’ll have someone go and gather your things. Bring them here.”
“I can go get my stuff soon enough.”
“Why won’t you tell me?”
“You probably already know.”
I do. But she doesn’t need to know that.
“Nadia, I think we’re in the truce zone here. Think of this like a wedding or a funeral.”
“Yeah, well, it almost was my funeral. And I don’t know that it wasn’t you who ordered this to be done to me,” she blurts and stands to walk to the window. “You got here awfully fast after it happened.”
I have to shove my hands into my pockets. Just six months ago, I would have said that nothing this woman could say or do could hurt me.
But things have changed.
And it seems she can hurt me.
That’s unsettling and something to think about later.
She turns at my silence. The bruises on her face are beginning to fade from black to a sickly purple.
“You won’t deny it?” she demands.
“I don’t know how your family does things,” I begin slowly, “but in my family, I’ve been taught to never hurt women. Physical punishment is not tolerated when it comes to women. Ever, under any circumstances.”
I remember the day my cousin Elena first showed me the scars on her body she’d sustained at the hands of her father, my uncle. More anger seethes through me.
“Maybe not everyone in your family feels that way.”
“They do.” Agitated, I pace the floor. “I can say, without a shadow of a doubt, that my family is not responsible for this.”
“Maybe one of your brothers—”
“IT WASN’T US!” I shout at her and then swear under my breath. “For fuck’s sake, Nadia, no. I may not know what to feel when I’m around you, but I know that I wouldn’t hurt you. No one in my family would hurt you. You haven’t done anything to my family or me.”
“Except make you think I’d fallen in love with you. Fucked your brains out. Moved in with you.”
“Good sex isn’t worth maiming over.”
She shakes her head.
“I’m not convinced that your family isn’t responsible for my aunt’s and uncle’s murders. And if they are, they will pay. I guarantee you that.”
“If my father gave that order, he would cop to it,” she says with a sigh. “I admit, I don’t know every single order he’s given, but he’s not one to kill and then deny or deflect. He takes ownership of his decisions without regret. If he was behind those murders, he’d say so.”