The desire to keep her locked in the house makes me grit my teeth because I know I couldn't force her to give up her work even if her life is in danger. I still don't know how that bastard slipped into my house, I still don't know what move my dear mother plans to make next, and the psychopath stalking her hasn't shown any sign since the Luna incident, which unsettles me.
"Vasili's going with you, and I don't want to hear any protest, Roxanne. Even if Marco has security, I don't trust anyone right now."
She looks at me and nods slightly.
"I wasn't joking, Damien. You're no good to me dead, so stay put," she tells me, and after arranging a pillow under my head, she's about to leave, but I catch her hand at the last second, making my abdominal muscles scream in pain again.
"You didn't give me a kiss," I tell her with a little pout, but I know she notices my slightly choked tone.
Her eyes go to my shirt, and lifting it slightly, she sees the bandage and the trace of blood there.
"You deserve a punch, not a kiss," she tells me through her teeth.
My eyes soften when I hear her because I don't know if she realizes how visible her concern for me is. This woman, who tries so hard to keep me at a distance, worries about me.
I turn my cheek slightly and know I've won when she leans in and that sweet caramel scent reaches my nose.
When her lips touch my skin, I can't suppress the growl that escapes me.
"Seriously, why does torture even exist in this world when I can have you so close and yet so far away," I whisper to her.
With a smile on her lips, she stands and shakes her head. Straightening her dress, which had wrinkled when she sat beside me, she tells me, "Get well, honey. You've got a wedding night to make up for." She walks out after winking at me, leaving me with a dopey smile on my face and my chest full of a strange warmth.
Oh, slonko, one night won't be enough for everything I'm planning to do to you.
Chapter 34
Roxy
"Two hundred white roses should be enough," Gianna says from beside me.
"Okay, two hundred roses, tapas-focused food with easy to serve appetizers, and you've chosen jazz for the music," I repeat my notes back to her.
"That's right." She smiles at me.
Apparently, Marco's turning forty-five in two weeks, and she wants to throw him a party that matches the occasion.
"Everyone's been talking about the wedding you planned, so I asked Marco to reach out to you for this event too."
I've never been great with compliments, so I just nod and start gathering my things. Vasili's waiting outside, making phone calls, and the only thing on my mind is getting back to the man who's probably already changed his bandages three times because I'm certain he hasn't stayed put in bed.
When I slip my planner into my bag, her hand wraps around mine. My eyes lift to hers.
I didn't really study her back in the office, but now that I'm looking more closely, I notice the fine lines around her eyes, her immaculate manicure in a shade of red, and her eyes themselves. She has kind, gentle brown eyes that shine in a peculiar way when she looks at me.
"I heard what happened at your wedding from Marco, and I just wanted to tell you how relieved I am that you're okay and that you weren't hurt."
From Marco?
I swallow past the lump forming in my throat at the mention of that incident because I can still feel Damien’s warm blood between my fingers, and if I close my eyes for even a fraction of a second, I'll see his lifeless stare.
"No, but my husband was," is all I tell her.
"I'm sure whoever was responsible got what they deserved."
Not even close. The thought cuts through my mind, but instead of voicing it, I force a small smile and head for the exit.
Just as I'm about to leave the house, Marco blocks my path. Out of politeness, I stop.
