Nerves shook my marrow as I grabbed my keycard and shoes before rushing out of my room and heading downstairs.
Then there she was as the elevator doors opened.
I clocked the new dress, the way it hugged her curves, how it contrasted with her skin.
But it was her face I lasered in on.
And she looked fucking ashen.
Her pretty blue eyes were red-rimmed and watery.
And her gait looked too loose, too wobbly.
She looked like she might fall apart.
Then the second I had her in my arms, she did.
Her legs decided to give in, and if I hadn’t been holding her, she’d have slid to the elevator floor.
“You’re okay,” I assured her, fingers massaging the back of her neck as we took the short ride back up to my floor.
I practically had to pull her along with me to my door. She teetered on her heels as she waited for the keycard to unlock the door.
Then we were moving inside.
I tugged her purse off her shoulder, dropping it on the ground next to the couch, then pulling her down with me, letting her legs slip over my lap.
She was quick to rest her head against my chest as I reached to pull her heels off before putting my arms around her.
“You’re alright now,” I assured her.
My gaze tracked over her, looking for any signs of injury. But I didn’t see any blood or bruises.
Still, something was clearly wrong.
Her whole body trembled against me.
I wanted to ask.
I wanted to know if shit had imploded.
If I had to call Domenico and get him out.
If I had to tell Remo that the jig was up.
I just didn’t want to pressure her.
So I ran my hands over her slowly, trying to ground her with my body.
Little by little, the shaking eased and her breathing went slower and deeper.
“Did someone hurt you?” I asked.
“No.”
“But something happened.”
“I left the flashlight,” she said, jerking upright, eyes huge.
