Fiero was alone with Elodie.
Three years.
His body radiated tension as he moved the rest of the way to the side of the bed. Of his own accord, his fingers lifted to the hand that wasn’t in a sling. He stroked it gently, his eyes sweeping shut, impossibly long, black lashes curling against his dark skin.
His assistant answered his phone call.
Instincts took over.
Springing his eyes open, he spoke in rapid-fire Italian.Where is the best hospital in London? How quickly could a private helicopter ambulance be arranged? Clear his meetings for the week. Everything. Yes, the dinners too.He disconnected the call and stared down at her, knowing that for whatever reason she’d given his details to the hospital, he was glad for it. Glad because he was the right person to make sure she got the very best care. Cost was irrelevant.
She would be well again.
“Dr Hassan won’t be long,” the nurse breezed back in, holding a plastic cup half-filled with water. She passed it to Fiero and he took it without acknowledging it.
“What happened?”
“A car accident.” The nurse had now apparently obtained the authority to speak freely with him. “I don’t know the details, but she was lucky it wasn’t worse. She was nipped as she stepped onto the curb, thrown across the footpath. Her head collided with a shop window, hence the lacerations and bruising.” The nurse clucked sympathetically. “Caused quite a commotion.”
His nod was tight.
“She’s been in and out of consciousness since,” the nurse continued.
He suppressed the desire to drill her on the hospital’s policy with neurological admits. His assistant would be arranging everything – soon Elodie would be getting proper care.
“And she asked for me?” He prompted, that piece of the puzzle making little sense at the same time it somehow did. Wasn’t that how it had been, on their short night together? Contradictions everywhere. How right it felt even when he’d known it to be wrong. How he’d felt as though he’d known her forever when they’d only just met.
The nurse frowned. “No.”
He jerked his gaze away from Elodie. “But the hospital called…”
“You were listed on her admissions paperwork.”
“She had time to fill out paperwork?”
“From last time,” the nurse corrected.
“Last time?”
“Mmm. A previous admission.”
“And she listed me as her emergency contact then, not now?” This was making marginally more sense. If she’d been admitted some time shortly after they’d met, perhaps he’d been all she could think of.
She’d only been in London a short while before he’d met her. She hadn’t known many people, she’d said, as they’d walked to her apartment.
“Must have done.”
He turned his attention back to Elodie and something clutched in his chest. He hated hospitals with a passion. He’d spent too much time in them. Too much time seeing people he cared for being crushed by life.
“So she didn’t ask for me now?”
“She wasn’t in a state to ask for anyone, love.”
Love?Christo.When had anyone called him such a thing?
His eyes flashed with his searing sense of frustration. This nurse was moving so slowly, acting as though nothing was the matter. His nostrils flared as he exhaled a harsh, disapproving breath.
“I want that neurologist immediately.”