Chapter 39 - Daniil
The sound of Paisley’s laughter was the sweetest music, but I wasn’t joking around when I said I’d happily spend the rest of my life in bed with her. Nothing could touch us when my lips were on her silky skin. Reality was a concept that seemed far away.
What did it matter that I was every bit of a ruthless criminal as the man who had locked her up in a warehouse and tried to kill her?
And to get answers about my family, no less.
She was so pure and honest, how could she not recoil in horror and disgust when she eventually found out who and what I was?
Would she despise me? Those thoughts crowded around the edges, trying to find a way into our perfect sphere of happiness, but I shoved them away. As long as her fingers tugged at my hair and her soft moans filled my ears, everything was perfect.
Not even the insistent dinging of my phone on the bedside table could drag me away from the sweetness of her thighs.
“What is that?” she asked when the damn phone wouldn’t stop.
“Nothing,” I said, pulling myself up and reaching for it to toss across the room. “It’s about to be broken.”
I caught a glimpse of a long line of messages from various members of my family, either worried or demanding to know what was going on.
I had wanted some time to find Paisley on my own, but now my time was up and Anatoli must have told them I went after her.
I couldn’t blame him, really. He was being loyal to the family.
I was the one on the outside now, with everyone still believing Paisley had something to do with the attack on the lodge.
I could clear it all up with a few calls, but then I turned back to my woman, her eyes big and concerned.
“Don’t break it,” she said, reaching to slide her hand behind my neck and pull me down for another kiss. “Just turn it off.”
“Done,” I said, claiming her mouth.
God, she was so perfect. Her soft moan made me wild, and I nipped at her lower lip. But then her pliant body grew stiff in my arms and she was shoving away from me.
“Not again,” she groaned, rolling hastily off the bed and racing toward the bathroom.
Another minute later I heard retching over the sound of the running water.
“You’re not fooling me,” I said, pounding on the door. “We’re going to the emergency room.” This time she had locked the door and I rattled the handle until she opened it.
“I’m fine,” she said, looking like she had been dipped in melted wax. “It’s just a virus. It has to run its course, that’s all.”
“They can give you something to make you feel better at least,” I said, frowning as I grabbed the hotel robe and wrapped it around her trembling shoulders. “And I seem to remember you telling me you were an accountant, not a doctor.”
She looked like she might try to argue, but a green cast flushed her cheeks and she shoved me out of the room before she staggered back toward the toilet.
“That sounds like you’re definitely fine,” I called sarcastically.
As soon as she stopped heaving, I went in and picked her up. She made a weak effort to get me to put her down, but I strode purposefully toward the door.
“At least let me get dressed,” she said, full of exasperation despite how pale she was.
I was so worried I forgot she was naked under the robe, and went and found her discarded clothing, wishing I had thought to have the boutique in the lobby send up some new clothes along with the room service. I wasn’t used to caring so much, and I cursed myself for fumbling.
“I’ll have some fresh clothes sent to the hospital,” I said. “You won’t have to wear these ever again.”
She looked down at the jeans, t-shirt, and sweater that she’d been wearing when I found her and shrugged. “I guess they’re a little dirty, but that’s the least of my worries right now.”
With that said, she covered her mouth and went still, fighting a new wave of nausea.
I cradled her to me, starting to feel real fear.
What if this wasn’t just a virus? Furious that I hadn’t insisted she go to the hospital the night before, I kept my hand locked around hers as I drove to the closest emergency room.
“That asshole might have seriously hurt you when he hit you with his car,” I told her.
She shook her head. “Nothing hurts, I just feel like my stomach is turning inside out. And it was fine for a while…”
She managed to smirk at me, her cheeks turning a much healthier shade of pink on top of the waxy luster of illness. Then I silently cursed myself for our robust antics. I simply couldn’t control myself around her, and I might have added to her injuries.
She poked me in the arm, as I silently pulled into the hospital parking garage. She gave me a curious look, eyes wide. “I’m really fine,” she said. “You’ll see.”
I slid my hand behind her head to pull her close, but her stomach gurgled dangerously and she lurched out the door, puking on the concrete.
So much for being fine.