I smiled. “I promise.” I inclined my chin forward, asking for a kiss. His warm mouth melded against mine, and I closed my eyes, savoring his taste and the feel of him. “So...This is a big room with lots of space. Want to fuck me?”
Sloan huffed out a laugh and shook his head. “Pet, you just woke up.”
I spread my arms. “And I’m fine.”
“Clearly,” he rumbled, his lips twitching in amusement. His gaze softened and the stiffness in his body released, his shoulders relaxing. “But no, I am not having sex with you in this hospital, not while you’re still unwell.”
I whined and pouted, and all it got me was a sharp smack to the thigh through the thick blankets.
“I drew something for you.”
I frowned and sat up straighter, my back and neck protesting at the movement. My stomach wobbled and I stilled to let it settle before I cocked my head. “You draw?”
Sloan grunted out a laugh. “No.” He reached over to the nightstand and grabbed a piece of paper and passed it to me, the same hand staying clutched tight in mine. He made sure not to let go, and even though my palm was getting sweaty, I didn’t pull away. I liked that he wanted to keep a hold on me.
I stared down at the piece of paper and a grin spread across my face at a bunch of lines, boxes, and names. “You made a family tree for me?”
He took his seat on the bed beside me and stroked a finger down my jaw. “You wanted to know who’s related to me. Everyone who matters is on there.” He pointed at the cousins’ names. “That’s where Tiernan, Senan, and Kyran are. Their mom is my aunt. She’s my dad’s sister. I have more over in Ireland. A lot more, but they’re distant cousins, like Eddie. They’re related through my grandfather and great-grandfather. Killoughs, yes, but they aren’t close to us. They share a small amount of blood and our name, which gives them a little more respect, but they aren’t family in the sense of Fionn or you, Pet.”
I searched the names, curious, when my gaze came across Sloan’s sister and her children. “You have three nieces and another nephew?” I touched their names. The youngest was a man by the name of Gunnar. According to this family tree, he was in his early twenties. “I thought Fionn and his brothers were your only nephews.”
“They’re the only nephews I know,” Sloan said, then frowned. “No, that’s not true. I don’t know much about Fionn’s younger brothers. Their mother keeps them away. I guess it’s the same for Rosie, my sister. When she was old enough, she moved to Ireland. She didn’t want anything to do with the business. When Eoin died, it cemented her theory that the Company would get us all killed.” He smiled. “I still talk with her occasionally, which you know. There’s no bad blood between us. She made her choice, and I respect it.” The corners of his eyes tightened. “Rosie never took money from us. She built herself up, unlike Annabelle, Fionn’s mother, who takes what she can get. Annabelle’s cruelty knows no bounds. She’s never loved Fionn the way a mother should. The moment it was a little difficult, she shoved him at me and demanded more money, almost as though she was selling off her grieving son.”
“What about the other two?” I whispered. This was the first time Sloan had really opened up about his family in the eightyears we’d been together. It was partly my fault—I’d never asked. I should’ve. I tilted my neck, wincing at the soreness there. Sloan had said I would still feel the symptoms for weeks. “Fionn’s brothers?”
“Their names are Diarmuid and Bellamy. I can’t tell you anything about them. Annabelle kept them away and it wasn’t to keep them safe. In a way, she’s using them as hostages. They’re Eoin’s sons, and she knows how much Eoin meant to me. She gets money to take care of them. Or did.”
“Until you stopped the payments.” It happened when Fionn was in the hospital. Fionn had told me all about it. He’d admitted to Sloan that his mom was calling and demanding money from Fionn, too. When Fionn gave up hiding the problem, Sloan pulled all allowances, making Annabelle effectively broke.
My stomach swelled, nausea roiling.
“Yes.” His eyebrows furrowed. “It’s eerily quiet from her. I don’t trust it.”
An image flashed in my mind—Fionn with his phone pressed to his ear, stress creasing his forehead as he whispered into the speaker, almost like he was making sure no one heard him. Then, another came to my brain, and another.
“What about Fionn?” I swallowed around a lump in my throat, regret sweeping through me. Had he been going through something and I hadn’t noticed? “He might’ve heard from her. I’ve seen him on the phone, whispering furiously at someone. I wonder....”
“If she’s been contacting him?” His eyes flashed and he yanked out his phone.
“Sloan, be gentle.” I squeezed his hand hard.
“I will,” he promised as he typed across the screen with one hand. When he was done, he laid the phone on the bed beside me. “Now you have my family tree. You can ask me anything you want.”
I chuckled. “Thank you, Boss. That was really sweet.”
“Aren’t I always sweet?” He smirked when I laughed harder.
“Only to me,” I said, which made him join in with the laughter. “And sometimes Fionn, but you’re tough on him, too.”
The nausea grew worse and I gagged. Sloan read my action immediately and reached for a vomit bag, passing it to me in time for me to puke into it. My stomach heaved and Sloan petted my arm, whispering gently.
“You’re okay, pet. Let it out.” He kissed my temple and hit the call button beside me. Moments later, a nurse came in. “He’s sick. Can we get some medication to help?”
The nurse nodded and left again.
I trembled with a groan, the stiffness in my body making everything feel so much worse. I couldn’t look at Sloan, I didn’t want to see the concern on his face. When the nurse came back into my room again, she injected something into my IV.
“This will help with the nausea,” she whispered with a smile.
