"I don't know how to do this," she said. "How to let someone in. How to be vulnerable. How to need someone without losing myself."
"Then we'll figure it out together." I pressed my forehead to hers gently. "One day at a time. No pressure. No expectations. Just... us. Seeing where this goes."
"And when it gets hard?"
"We fight through it. Together." I pulled back to look at her. "I'm not going anywhere, Imani. Not when you're difficult. Not when you push me away. Not when you're scared. I'm here. For as long as you'll have me."
"That's a dangerous promise."
"Good thing I'm comfortable with danger."
She laughed. "You're ridiculous."
"About you? Yes." I kissed her forehead. "Now. Are you going to let me take care of you for the next few days, or are we going to keep arguing until the nurse kicks me out?"
She was quiet for a long moment. "I need to shower. And change. And I refuse to use that hospital bathroom with someone hovering outside the door."
"Fair. I'll wait outside. But you need to get cleaned up regardless."
"And I need my laptop. I have client calls scheduled."
"Which your assistant can handle for a few days while you recover."
"Marco, I don’t need you micromanaging me."
"Imani." I gave her a look. "The world will not end if you take three days off. Your business will survive. Your clients will understand. And you need to rest before your injuries get worse."
She glared at me. But there was no real heat in it.
"Fine," she said finally. "Three days. But after that, I'm going back to work."
"We'll see."
"There's no 'we'll see.' I'm going back."
I kissed her. Soft, slow, and thorough enough to make her forget what she was arguing about. When I pulled back, she was flushed and breathing hard.
"Not fair," she muttered.
"All's fair in love and stubborn consulting executives." I stood and headed for the door. "I'm going to get you real clothes and actual food. Don't argue with any more nurses while I'm gone."
"No promises."
I paused in the doorway, looking back at her. At this fierce, brilliant, complicated woman who scared the hell out of me and made me feel more alive than I ever had.
"Imani?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm glad you're okay. When Dez called and said there'd been a shooting…" I stopped, my throat tight. "I'm really glad you're okay."
Her expression softened. "Me, too."
I left before I could do something stupid like confess how terrified I'd been. How I'd barely left the hospital since, rotating between her room and Angelina's. How I was pretty sure I wasfalling in love with her. But that conversation could wait. Cause that shit even had me baffled.
Right now, she needed rest and food and someone to make sure she didn't try to work herself to death while recovering. And I was exactly the stubborn bastard to make sure she did. My phone buzzed as I headed for the elevator. An incoming text from Dez caught my attention.
PAIN IN MY ASS
