Chapter 17 Isabella
Chapter seventeen
Isabella
The first thing I register is the heat pressed against my spine. The second thing is pain. My arm hurts like someone set my bones on fire, pulling to the surface memories of the gunshot, blood soaking my arm, and Dominic stitching me up like some underground surgeon.
My eyes blink open, and I immediately regret it as a dull headache pounds behind my temples. It takes me a minute to realize I’m not in my room. The sheets here are darker and thicker...and the air is thick with the scent of something undeniably Dominic.
My breath hitches when I realize the weight at my side isn’t just metaphorical. Dominic is lying next to me, his arm hooked tight across my body.
For a man who’s made a career out of keeping his distance, he fits against me like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I pause for a moment; then, when I recover…from the shock, I shift slightly, enough to ogle his face but not enough to wake him.
Even I know that I look like a creep, taking in how his long lashes and perfect brows shape his face. My fingers itch to run along the smooth curves of his jaw and the ridges of his naked chest, but I quickly decide against it.
What am I doing here anyway?
Just as I have the thought, his eyes shoot open. For reasons I don’t know…no, for obvious reasons, heat flares in my cheeks, and I quickly exaggerate the pain in my shoulder to distract him from what I was just doing.
“Ouch!”
He quickly untangles himself from me and pulls back, hands hovering over the stitched wound.
“Fuck. Does it hurt?” His voice is groggy as he runs a hand through his hair. I must admit, though, the look of concern in his eyes tugs something in my stomach.
“Yes,” I answer truthfully, biting down on the groan rising in my throat. “I feel like my arm is on fire.”
His jaw tenses and he eyes me for a moment. Something shifts in his eyes when he stands. No... they. His significant member is also standing gloriously, the heavy outline poking against his grey joggers.
“The doctor will see you in a moment,” he says blankly, turning his back to walk into what I assume to be his closet.
Oh?
I don’t know what bothers me more. That he’s suddenly void of emotions, or that I wanted him to say something reassuring and loving.
Then the real question starts to hit.
“Who attacked us? Is it one of your enemies?”
His steps falter for barely a second before he keeps going. When he disappears into the closet, I decide to follow him, familiar irritation already circling my chest.
Why would he ignore me like I’m not a victim of whatever shit is happening? He’s rummaging through the closet as I stand at the threshold.
“I think I have every right to know what’s going on since my life is at stake.”
And perhaps my life is. A shiver of terror crawls up my spine. It all started when a truck rammed into our car from nowhere and men trooped out. Gunshots exploded on both sides before I was yanked out by a scary-looking man.
“After the truck rammed into ours and gunshots exploded, there was a scary-looking man.” Low and strained, I release the words, leaning my good shoulder against the threshold.
“He dragged me by my hair out of the car, but someone shot him, so I ran away from the fray and took shelter in the alley…praying, hoping that you’d come. ”
My voice cracks and it’s as if I’m reliving the experience all over again.
“You won’t have to go through that anymore,” he grits out, hands pausing his endeavor.
“I know,” a slow exhale pulls from my lips, “and that’s why I’m asking who they were.”
“My men are working on it,” he deadpans, then resumes his search.
I scoff, “That’s not what I asked.”
“I don’t care what you asked.”
“No.” A frown mars my expression. “You don’t care about anything at all.” Even me.
There’s a pause before he turns and cocks a brow at me as if wondering where the statement came from. Hell, I wonder, too. It’s not like I expect him to be all roses and sunshine with me after getting shot.
“You’re my responsibility by reason of alliance. Your safety is my priority.”
Something about his words sends a shiver down my spine and sparks a wave of anger through me. I hate that he’s right. Of course, I’m a liability—just an obligation he has to take care of because of the stupid alliance.
“Noted.” Pain shoots through my arm as I straighten my spine abruptly. “I’ll be in my room when the doctor arrives.”
Before I move another inch, his voice stops me. “You’ll stay here from now on.”
“What?”
“The maid will move your things in today.”
Oh, fuck no.
I half expect him to laugh and say he’s joking, but the way his jaw tenses as he watches me shows he’s serious. There’s no way I’m staying in the same room with this asshole.
“No.” My voice comes out hard. He says nothing but stalks toward me with a dangerous poise. I hold my breath as he infiltrates my space, the air between us now electric.
“No,” I say again, watching how something flashes in his eyes.
“Your desires are invalid,” he says, like he’s restraining something. “You’ll stay until I say otherwise.”
An involuntary snort leaves my lips. “Why? Because I’m inconvenient? A liability? Is that why you can’t explain what’s going on wi—”
Before I finish, he slams his hand roughly into the wall beside me, then shoves his other hand into his hair. That’s when I see it. The confusion, fear…the anger in his eyes.
“Because you’re a fucking target. Because you were almost fucking dead a few hours ago and I don’t trust a damn soul to keep you breathing but me!”
His eyes are blazing, and his jaw is working like there’s a fight behind them. Oddly, something flips in my stomach. Something…comforting?
Still, I don’t lower my chin. “I’m not some damsel in distress. I can take care of myself.”
“You will do as I say,” he grits out, inching so impossibly close to my face that I can taste the heat of his words.
“What do y-you care anyway?” I stumble on my words, almost out of breath.
“Because you’re mine.” His eyes dart to my injured shoulder, a deep frown breaking across his face. “And if someone breaks what’s mine…I’ll break them harder.”
My breath hitches as he sets his mouth into a thin line. But the feral look in his eyes tells me his words are more than a statement. They’re a threat…a promise, one that he’ll follow through ferociously.
Sparks buzz through my head when he tucks a stray tendril behind my ear, then feathers a light trail down the side of my face. His mouth opens, and he looks like he wants to say something when a knock sounds from the room.
“Fuck,” he grits, fingers clawing into the wall before he steps back and starts toward the room. After gathering myself, I follow him and see him opening the door for a…doctor.
They talk briefly for a while before the man approaches me gently, a briefcase in hand. He’s tall, a little hunched and looks to be in his mid-fifties.
“Good day, ma’am, I’m Doctor Jeremy. I’ll tend to your wound now.” He smiles politely. I return his smile and instinctively return to the bed, sitting on the edge.
Jeremy unpacks some equipment and almost immediately, I’m plunged into the clinical world. But I don’t fail to notice how Dominic’s piercing gaze never leaves mine.
My heart races and somehow, in that moment, I recall the latter part of yesterday, how Dominic had stitched me up while I rambled nonsense endlessly.
I feel my cheeks heat up as the memory replays in my head. Oh fuck…and now I’m stuck in the same room with him.
Could today get any worse?