“Can you stop arguing for once?”
“No.”
“Of course you can’t,” he mutters, and then I’m suddenly airborne. His arm comes beneath my knees and the other behind my back, cradling me against his chest.
A shriek escapes me. “Why are you carrying me?”
“Mind your own business, Paige,” he says.
“Being airborne… is… very much my business.” It’s hard to form words.
“I’m taking care of my wife. Can you let me do that?” He nods to someone, and then a door is opening, and we walk through it. “I can’t have you die on me.”
That makes me laugh. Except it’s not really a laugh. It’s barely a scoff. I don’t have the energy for more. “I would never,” I protest. “You’d win on walkover.”
He mutters something I can’t quite make out and walks out of the building, and though I’d never admit it, I think I’m about to faint.
CHAPTER 52
PAIGE
The car ride is mostly a blur. When we’re back at the hotel, Rafe helps me out and into the hotel elevator. I try to protest thatI’m fine, but he shushes me each time.
In the elevator, he tells me to hold on to the wall. “Out of your heels,” he tells me, and I lift one foot and then the other, letting him undo the straps and pull them off.
“Before you kill yourself,” he mutters, and I think of my foot on his chest earlier today and his mouth between my thighs.
I think I can handle turned-on Rafe.
But this is protective Rafe, the same man who seemed concerned about me at that fighting ring, or who promises he’ll handle my uncle. I haven’t been someone others take care of in a very long time. There’s no space for it. No family member or boyfriend who would ever do it. It’s just been me, and my group of friends, and my gnawing need to never show weakness.
When we exit the elevator, Rafe lifts me up again and carries me through our suite, setting me down on the bed.
He mutters something I can’t make out again. It’s annoying, because he usually says things I want to hear.
The bed is soft, so very soft, and I blink up at him. His face is drawn, like something is bothering him.
“What did you say?” I ask him.
He reaches for the covers beside me. “I said not on my watch.”
Oh.
He instructs me to lift up my legs, to turn, and then I’m covered in a thin linen sheet. The pillow is a squishy cloud beneath my head. I close my eyes. Just for a second. The dress isn’t very comfortable, but I can’t imagine getting up or handling that. Not right now.
When I come to, there’s something cool against my forehead and a voice urging me to drink.Take this pill.
“Rafe?”
“Yes. It’s me.”
I swallow the medicine and sink back down against the pillow. He puts the towel back on my forehead. “I know you hate being still, but you’re going to have to be. Just for a little while.”
I lie back. My joints hurt and my throat is burning up. “I missed the opera. There was… mingling.”
“It’s fine. It wasn’t that great of an opera, and you knew no one there.”
“I always make friends, at parties,” I murmur.
