Chapter 40

40

Aurora

He's not fine; he's not doing well at all. Outside, it begins to snow as I dip the cloth in cool water and place it on his fevered brow. Sweat clings to his upper lip and coats his chest. He stirs restlessly, his eyeballs moving behind closed eyelids.

I helped him to bed, where he collapsed and fell asleep almost instantly. That was two hours ago. The blood loss must have weakened him more than he'd been letting on. I managed to throw my clothes into the dryer, pull on my bathrobe, then build up the fire in the living room. It is warm inside the house, but you wouldn't be able to tell from the way he shivers under the covers that I pulled up to his neck.

There are no antibiotics in the house that I can give him, and stitching up the wound, clearly, isn't enough. The infection is mounting, damn it. I pace the floor next to the bed and watch his ragged breathing. I need to do something, but what? I chew on my fingernail. Do I dare leave him and try to find my way back to the main chalet?

He groans, and my breath catches in my chest. I've never seen him stripped of his confidence and in so much pain. Even now, lying there wounded, his big body is a massive presence that seems to suck up most of the oxygen in the room. His skin is almost as pale as the sheets he lays on, and that is not good. Oh god, he's sinking… He's going to die. No! I squeeze my fists at my sides. Not if I have a say in this. It's my fault that he got shot, and I'm going to make sure that I save him. I turn to head off to the dryer to get my clothes when his voice stops me. "Phone," he slurs, "the phone."

"What?" I pivot and close the distance to the bed. "What are you trying to say?"

"The phone"—his eyelids flutter open, and he fixes his blue gaze on mine—"in the woodshed."

"The woodshed?"

"Phone… Call… Michael…" His eyes close.

"Christian?" I touch his shoulder, and his skin is so hot that I freeze. Shit, shit, shit. I don't even have a thermometer here to monitor his temperature, but clearly, his condition is worsening by the second. And what did he mean by ‘phone'? "Is there a phone in the woodshed, Christian? Is that what you're trying to say?"

His eyes stay closed.

"Damn it." I press my fingers together. I need to find out if what he said is true. But if there is a phone, why didn't he call for help sooner? I shake my head. First things first, I need to check if what he says is true.

I head for the dryer, pull out my clothes, and slip them on. Then pull on my boots and jacket and head out of the backdoor. It's snowing again, but at least, the wind seems to have died down. I stomp through the snow and reach the woodshed. I push the door open and still.

It's warmer than I expected in here, so there definitely is some kind of temperature regulation at work. On one side, the firewood is piled up neatly, as expected. On the other side, there is a chair and a table, with a laptop computer and a phone connected to the laptop. What the hell?

So, there had been a way to keep in touch with the chalet. And Christian must have used it… For what? To let them know that we were here and safe, which is why no one had come in search of us. I had wondered about it, but then, I had been so caught up in the sexual haze he'd been spinning around me that I hadn't bothered to pursue that line of thought.

So, he has been hiding this from me all along? Why? So he could keep me here and fuck me, wear down my defenses? But to what end? I was already his captive; he could have done what he wanted with me… But did he want time alone with me? Is that why he planned this elaborate ruse?

And he had accused me of keeping a secret from him. Seems I'm not the only one. I head for the phone, pick it up, not surprised to find that it's fully charged. I try to swipe the screen, but it's locked. Of course, it is.

I march back to the lodge, tiptoe up to the bed, and place Christian's finger on the touch ID. The phone screen unlocks. I lower his arm to his chest, then look up the names in the phonebook and press Michael's number.

"Pronto?" Michael picks up on the fifth ring. "I didn't think I'd be hearing from you in a few more days, stronzo ," he jokes.

"Michael?" I square my shoulders. "There's been an accident."

Half an hour later, I clamber onto the helicopter, which arrived within twenty minutes of that phone call. Apparently, the Sovranos don't mess around when it comes to their own. Michael had listened to me without interruption, then ordered me to stay with Christian until help arrived. Before I could ask any more questions, he had disconnected.

He's no less bossy than Christian. It seems like each Sovrano brother has an ego the size of Texas… How the hell do they manage to sit at a table and do business? Not to mention, actually get together under one roof… A feat which I now realize no one other than Nonna could have pulled off. She is the only one who seems to know how to handle these alphaholes, and when Christian finally wakes up, I'll have one very irate alphahole to deal with.

I glance down to where the paramedics have strapped him to a stretcher. They had checked his vitals as soon as they had arrived at the lodge, started an IV drip, placed an oxygen mask around his nose, and moved him to a stretcher within minutes. The trembling had set in then, once I realized that he was in good hands. And I haven't stopped shaking since.

"Here." Michael places Christian's jacket around my shoulders, then sits down next to me.

"I didn't expect you to arrive with the air-ambulance," I murmur.

"He's my brother." Michael scowls. "Of course, I was going to be there for him."

He holds out his hand.

"What?" I blink.

"The phone…" He gestures to the device that I have clutched between my fingers. "I assume that's Christian's?"

"Ah, yes." I hand the phone over, and Michael pockets it.

"How did he get shot?" he asks.

I look away, then reach over and run my fingers through Christian's sweat-dampened hair. "If I had known that he had a phone, I would have called you earlier," I say softly.

"Hmm…" Michael folds his arms over his chest. "What's going on between you two; why didn't he tell you about the phone earlier?"

"I … I don't know," I lie.

"Hmm…" He purses his lips. "And I assume you don't know anything about who shot him either?"

I glance away and bite my lower lip. No way am I letting any of them in on what my connection with the stranger is. And definitely not when Christian is unconscious. He's the only one who has been on my side since the beginning… Although, when he's awake, that might change too.

"Ever since you helped Karma to escape, I haven't trusted you. I wasn't in favor of Christian marrying you either, but he convinced me otherwise. Now, I wonder if I should have questioned the situation further. Whether I should have shot you like had been my first instinct."

I pull the jacket closer, then glance out of the window for a few seconds. "The gun... Christian had a gun he used to shoot at the other guy." I turn back to Michael. "Someone needs to find the gun; he dropped it in the snow."

He peers into my eyes, then nods. "I'm on it." He holds my gaze. "If anything happens to my brother, I won't let you live, Aurora," he says in a voice filled with menace.

A shiver runs down my spine, and I hunch my shoulder. "If anything happens to him, I don't want to live," I say in a low voice.

He scowls at me. "My brother seems to think that you can be trusted; you'd best pray that he is right."

Christian

I come awake with a start. The scent of antiseptic is so strong in my nostrils, I know I can only be in one place. I take in the glare of the fluorescent lights that bounce off of the white sheets, the white ceiling, the white tiled floor, the white walls. I try to move, and my entire body protests. My side feels numb, and my limbs feel weighted down. I raise my arm and find it's attached to something warm.

Slowly, I turn my head to find her on a chair pulled up next to the bed. Her fingers are clasped around mine, and she's curled into the back of the chair, fast asleep. Her eyelashes are dark fans against her cheekbones; dark circles shadow her eyes like she hasn't had much sleep. Her legs are pulled up under her, and I'm sure she must be uncomfortable all coiled up like that. I lower my gaze to where her slim, delicate fingers are twined with mine.

She's ringless, of course, considering she tossed the engagement ring into the snow. I don't care about the cost; I can get her another one… But the fact that she did it makes me see her in a new light. This isn't some spineless woman who would accept my dominance without questioning it… And the fact is, I like that. After the women I've met who were taken in either with my money or my notoriety—neither of which seem to have any impact on her—she's a breath of fresh air.

Clearly, she also saved my life. I glance down at the bandage covering my chest. The last I remember is her stitching me up, then helping me to bed. I must have fallen asleep right away, for I don't remember much after that. I raise my left arm and wince. But the pain isn't too bad. Maybe it's the meds or the painkillers, but while I feel like I've been put through a wringer, all said and done, I feel okay.

I glance up to find her staring at me. Her golden-brown eyes seem to burn with unsaid emotions. "Whiskey," I murmur, then clear my throat, "it's like drowning in whiskey."

"What?" She frowns.

"Your eyes"—I quirk my lips—"they are whiskey-colored, and your mouth"—I lower my gaze to her lips—"like a red rosebud in half-bloom."

"Are you feeling unwell? Do you have a fever?" She reaches over to place her palm on my forehead. "Are you still in pain?"

"No." I shake my head. "I mean it, you know. You are beautiful, Aurora."

"Stop it." Her blush deepens. "How are you feeling now?"

"I'll live." I try to sit up, then wince when my chest hurts. "How did I get here?"

"I used your phone to call Michael."

"Ah," I hold her gaze, "so you found the phone?"

"Why didn't you tell me that you had one? Why did you tell me that there was no way of calling the others?"

"Because I wanted to spend time with you. Alone."

"So, you lied to me?"

"No…" I shake my head. "It's you who lied to me. Who is he, Aurora? Who is the man who shot me?"

"I… I can't tell you." She glances away.

"A former lover, maybe? Someone you care for?"

"No," she shakes her head, "far from it. I don't really know him at all."

"Another lie?" I growl.

"I'm not lying." She tugs on her hand, and this time, I loosen my grip. She places her hands in her lap. "I really don't know him, Christian. Every time I've met him, he's worn a mask that covers the lower half of his face."

"So, you've met him more than once?"

"I'm not getting into this with you." She jumps up and begins to pace. "You're feeling better; you're going to be okay. My work here is done." She wheels around and heads for the exit.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Out of here, away from you; you're fine now. And clearly, after what happened, you don't want anything to do with me, so…"

"You're not going anywhere."

"Says who?" She scowls at me over her shoulder.

I glare back at her, and she throws up her hands.

"Look, it's my fault you got shot, okay? I am truly sorry, but after what happened, I think it's best we stop pretending about whatever there is between us."

"Are you pretending, Flower, because I am not."

She pauses, then shakes her head. "We can't go on like this, Christian, we can't. I don't know what you want from me."

"What I want from you is to stick to the terms of our agreement."

She blinks. "You mean, after everything that happened, you still want to go ahead with the fake marriage."

"Especially because of what happened. And considering I got shot in the process, the least you can do is see through your part of the bargain, then set me free, so I can live life the way I want."

"Which is footloose and fancy-free and bedding as many women as you want?" She sets her jaw.

"If that's what I want. Although, as long as we are fake married, I'll be more discreet about who else I'm sleeping with."

"So, during the time we are fake married, you still get to sleep with others, as long as you are not caught, but I don't get to see anyone else?"

"Exactly."

Her face reddens, and this time, it's not with embarrassment. Oh, she's pissed all right, and fuck, if that doesn't turn me on.

"You know what, you can stuff your goddamn arrangement up your arse."

"Don't forget, it's not just you but your family's lives which are at risk."

"I'd like to see you come near them," she snarls.

"I'd like to see you stop me."

She balls her fists at her sides, draws in a breath, then another. "I am not going to let you get away with bullying me this time." She unclenches her fingers one by one, then draws herself up to her full height. "I'm leaving, Christian, and I don't care what you do next."

She spins around, marches over to the door of the hospital room, and opens it. She attempts to step out, but Antonio blocks her path.

"Let me go," she demands. He glances at me, and I shake my head.

"I'm sorry, Aurora, I can't," Antonio says gently. Good. If he'd been impolite to her, I'd not have hesitated to shoot him.

She turns around and stares at me. "If you think you can force me to stay, you're wrong."

"I am not forcing you to stay; I am just not letting you leave."

She squeezes her eyes shut, draws in a breath, then stomps back to the chair and sinks into it. "Fine, you are not going to let me leave. I get it."

"Do you?" I rake my gaze over her features. "Do you really understand what a precarious position you're in?"

She folds her arms across her chest, but doesn't reply.

"If you were to leave right now, Michael would hunt you down and kill you. The only reason you are still alive is because you are here and under my protection."

"Do you expect me to be grateful for being held prisoner?"

"I expect you to come clean on why you felt it necessary to crawl out of the bed where I had made love to you not hours ago and walk through the biting cold for a tryst with a man who would have killed you if I hadn't come upon you."

"I … I … don't expect you to understand."

"Try me, Flower."

She bites down on her lower lip, and despite the fact that I'm sedated and woozy, my cock stirs. Apparently, not even being shot at and almost dying—okay, I exaggerate; I didn't almost die, though I did feel close to it—will stop my body from reacting to her presence.

"Go on," I prompt, "tell me what's on your mind.

"I … ah?—"

The door opens abruptly, and Michael walks in. He's followed by Sebastian, Luca, and Adrian. Massimo brings up the rear. Fantastico, just what I need to top off a really shitty day.

Michael strolls over to the only other chair in the room and drops into it. Seb and Luca stalk over to stand on either side of the foot of the bed. Massimo props himself up against the wall by the door; he plants his hands in his pockets and surveys the room. Adrian strolls over to stand by the window.

I take in their relaxed stances, but am not fooled. Assholes are here for an intervention, that's for sure. The silence stretches a beat, then another. Aurora squirms around in the chair. Suddenly, as if she's not able to take it any longer, she jumps up to her feet. "I … I think I need a breath of fresh air.

She walks toward the door when Michael's voice rings out. "Sit down, Doctor."

She reaches the door and stretches her arm out toward the handle. "Flower," I order, "come and sit down, please." Yeah, I add the please because I know exactly what buttons to push to get her to comply. I'm an asshole that way. And whether I mean it or not… Well, that doesn't really matter, does it?

Aurora pauses, her shoulders shudder as she draws in a breath, then she spins around. Her gaze clashes with mine. I jerk my chin toward her chair. She scowls, and I glare at her. She pales, then tips her chin up. She flounces over to her chair and plops into it. She glowers back at me, and my lips twitch.

Damn, the woman is sexy when she's angry. Hell, she's sexy any way. But when she's angry, her color rises, her eyes turn a darker gold, and I can't wait to throw her down and have hate sex with her.

Michael shifts in his chair. "If you two have had enough of eye-fucking each other, then perhaps we can get to the bottom of what really happened earlier?"