Page 94 of Bleed with Me

“Oh, stop.” He directed his attention toward my buzzing phone. “Someone needs you.”

“How. Much?”

Lucas held my gaze for a long moment before finally giving up.

“Thirty-five thousand,” he mumbled, ashamed. “It was a long night.”

“I bet.” Returning to the punching bag, I watched him in the expansive wall mirror. “I’ll pay—”

“I didn’t ask,” he cut me off, abruptly standing up. “I have it covered; it’s no big deal.”

“Maybe, but it’s better to owe me than some mafia psychopath.” I flashed him a pointed look, effectively cutting off his protests with a series of hits into the punching bag.

However, he was ready to argue the moment I stopped moving, but my phone started vibrating against the bench nonstop.

“Jesus Christ,” I mumbled, snatching up the device. Arianna’s name illuminated the screen like a personal threat from hell itself. Five missed calls. A bunch of unread messages. The woman had gone crazy after we agreed that she would be in charge of the wedding preparations.

Lucas leaned back against the weight rack and crossed his arms.

“Ah.” His lips stretched into a knowing grin. “The wedding dictator is looking for you.”

I grimaced, unlocking the phone.

Arianna: The florist arrived. We’re waiting downstairs.

Arianna: Nina. Where are you?

Arianna: You need to approve the colors.

Arianna: I’ll call your father if you don’t answer me.

My eye twitched.

“I’m genuinely thinking about getting stabbed or something,” I announced, realizing that it wasn’t such a bad idea if it would postpone the wedding.

“Dramatic,” Lucas mused. “You survived torture training, but flower arrangements are where you draw the line?”

“You don’t understand.” I grabbed the water bottle and took a long sip, trying to cool the irritation boiling beneath my skin. “That woman has spent three hours debating napkin shades this week alone. I’ve created a monster.”

“Terrifying.”

A reluctant laugh escaped me, but it vanished when my thoughts drifted back to Dorian. I still hadn’t figured out what the hell happened between us last night. The way he relaxed against me, like I was the only thing holding him together, refused to leave my head.

I could still picture him asleep beside me, warm and heavy against my body. No charming grin. No walls. Just Dorian, exhausted and trusting enough to sleep in my arms.

Oh, God!

My phone buzzed again. With a murderous glare, I shoved it into Lucas’s chest.

“If she calls again, tell her I died.”

Five hours later, I was one passive-aggressive comment away from committing homicide with a centerpiece candle.

“Absolutely not,” Arianna said firmly, stopping me from slipping toward the terrace doors for the third time in less than twenty minutes. “You’re not escaping. We have to finish this.”

“I need air.” I forced a tight smile through clenched teeth while the wedding planner behind us continued talking about imported roses as if world peace depended on them.

“You needed air forty minutes ago.” Arianna crossed her arms over her elegant cream dress, completely unimpressed. “Sit down.”