Octavia
I look at him and narrow my eyes.
His face is set in a scowl, his jaw tight, his eyes dark.
“You have to go,” I say again.
His mouth twists. “I’m not leaving you.”
“I’ll send Adriano,” he adds. “There’s no way I’m leaving your side.”
I sigh and rub my temple, careful of the dull ache still throbbing there. “Milo, I’m in a hospital. A very expensive, very secure hospital. It’s full of nurses, doctors, patients. Put men outside the building. Put them at my door if it makes you feel better.”
“They already are,” he mutters.
I lift a brow. “Then what exactly is the problem?”
He exhales through his nose. “The problem is that I have a bad feeling.”
I soften instantly. “Nothing will happen to me.”
He doesn’t answer, but I catch the hunted look on his face.
It has been a few days since I woke up, and at first I was sluggish, drifting in and out of sleep, dulled by the medication more than anything else.
Milo has not left my side since the accident, and I know it without having to ask.
I was shocked to see only him in the room when I finally came around, but then I realised he had not told anyone. Well, except my father, and I was glad of that.
I chose to keep it that way. There is no need to worry mamma or Ophelia, especially not when she is living her life in France, far from the drama.
She deserves peace, not my mess.
I tilt my head. “Come on. I really want McDonald’s.”
His eyes flick to me. “Adriano can go.”
“He’s not even in London,” I groan.
He huffs. “I’m not leaving your side.”
“I want a McFlurry.”
“No.”
“With M&M’s.”
He snorts. “There isn’t a McFlurry with M&M’s.”
“I don’t care,” I say sweetly. “You’ll get a plain one and dump M&M’s into it.”
For the first time, the corner of his mouth twitches.
“This hospital food is disgusting,” I add. “And I’ve been awake for, what, three days? I’m ready to throw up the next bowl of soup they bring me.”
He studies me for a long moment.
“You’re in pain,” he says quietly.
“I am,” I admit. “But I’m not taking anything stronger. I told you that.”
His nostrils flare. “You should.”
“No,” I say firmly. “I won’t be unconscious a second longer than necessary. I need to be alert. Coherent.”
“And stubborn,” he mutters.
I smile faintly. “That too.”
I reach for his hand and squeeze it. “Go. Please. Bring me McDonald’s. Don’t make me endure this hospital food again.”
His phone dings, breaking me off.
His gaze drops to the screen. He reads it, then looks back at me, one corner of his mouth lifting.
“I already have your McDonald’s downstairs,” he says.
I break into a full blown smile.
“You didn’t.”
“Of course I did.”
He clicks his tongue. “The fuckers brought it to the front of the hospital. They won’t come up to deliver it to the room,” he grunts. “I’ll give them a one star review. Maybe punch the guy after I get your food.”
I roll my eyes.
“Go,” I say, impatient.
He still hesitates. I can see it all over him. He doesn’t want to leave my side, not even for a second.
Then my stomach betrays me with a loud growl.
And that decides it.
He stands from the chair, but not before lifting my hand and pressing a kiss to my knuckles, then another to my forehead.
“I’ll be just a few minutes,” he says. “Press the nurse button if you need anything.” He looks at me pointedly.
I smile and nod.
He closes the door behind him.
I settle back against the pillows, already anticipating the food, The Addams Family playing quietly on the television.
Everything hurts like hell, but I am alive.
I don’t fight Milo anymore, though I am still not convinced we can make it.
I am too tainted, too ruined, not meant to be loved. I carry too much baggage, yet he makes me feel beautiful, whole, dare I say it… loved.
He feels safe… like home, and that frightens me more than the attacks ever did.
But everything comes in its time.
For now, I need to get better, and then I need to find the fucker who did this and erase him from the earth.