"I can stitch it if necessary." His voice drops to something rougher, more personal than his usual professional tone. "I'll clean it properly so you don't get an infection from whatever the hell cut you."
"Fine."
"Use all of the gauzes if you have to. I have more in the bag."
I open two more and press them against the cut, and pain shoots through my foot. My breath hisses between my teeth before I can stop it.
Anton's head snaps toward me. "How bad?"
"It's nothing. Just stings when I put pressure on it."
"That's not nothing." He takes a corner fast enough that I slide against the door despite my seatbelt. "I should have gotten there before you had to run for your life."
"You saved my life. Don't beat yourself up over a scratch."
"It's not a scratch if it's bleeding through gauze."
I look down. Red is seeping through the white fabric despite the pressure I'm applying. Great.
"Three minutes." Anton's voice is pure determination now. "I'll look at it properly in three minutes."
We're flying through the city now, traffic parting around us like Anton's urgency is a force pushing other cars aside.
I add another piece of gauze on top of the first, pressing harder despite the spike of pain. The bleeding slows but doesn't stop completely.
Anton keeps glancing at my foot like it might start gushing blood if he looks away too long.
The silence stretches between us, filled with everything we're not saying. Then reality crashes back—the boutique, the shooting, Emma crouched behind those boxes while bullets flew. God, I was so focused on surviving that I completely forgot about her.
"Emma, the sales associate at the boutique, can you check on her? Make sure she's okay?"
Anton nods immediately. "I'll have someone verify her status as soon as we arrive."
The city continues to blur past my window. Rain starts falling, gentle at first, then harder, drumming against the car's roof. Anton flicks on the wipers, their rhythmic swoosh filling the silence.
The rain grows heavier, turning the windshield into a watercolor painting until the wipers catch up.
"Fee." He glances at me, those gray eyes serious. "Last night, I was coming back to talk to you. To tell you why I reacted the way I did."
My stomach drops. Here it comes. The gentle letdown. The "you're a sweet girl, but" speech that will make everything worse.
"A situation called me away from coming back to you last night." His jaw tightens.
The rain pounds harder against the roof. I can barely see the buildings around us through the storm, just shapes and shadows bleeding into each other.
"I know this isn't the time or place, after everything that's happened." Anton's voice drops lower, rougher. "But I owe you an explanation."
No. I won't do this. Not here, not now, not when I'm already raw from everything else. What I need is space from him.
The Camaro slows as we turn into what looks like an underground parking garage. Concrete walls close around us, lit by harsh fluorescent lights. Armed men in dark suits are positioned at strategic points throughout the space.
Anton pulls into a spot near an elevator bank, the engine's growl echoing off concrete walls before he cuts it. The sudden silence feels deafening after the constant noise of the rain, the engine, and my own heartbeat.
"Anton, it's just best to leave it as is. We can have a professional relationship, just like I have with my other guards."
Anton turns to face me fully, his eyes meeting mine. Anton releases the steering wheel and reaches across the space between us, his fingertips brushing my cheek with careful reverence.
"Let me explain properly. Let me tell you why I'm terrified of wanting to be with you as much as I do."
