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“I can take her back to the hospital with me.” The first voice who I’m assuming is a doctor of some sort. A chilly hand presses against my forehead, drawing me closer to the surface, then it curls under my neck.
“Don’t touch her,” Nico snarls. “No one touches her but me. I’ll take her to the hospital.”
“But boss?—”
“Shut the fuck up, Jimmy, before I lose my shit. If you’d been able to handle Qian none of this would’ve happened.”
Nico’s comforting, musky scent envelops me even before he’s touched me. I breathe him in, my nostrils flaring, and my lids flutter open. The big bad mob boss hovers over me, dark circles beneath his eyes, a bloodied scrape and a deep purple bruise forming on his cheek. A look I’m certain I’ve never seen before is carved into his features.
“Maisy,” he breathes. He takes me in, devouring me with just one look, like a starving man who’s stumbled upon a feast after days lost in the wilderness—desperate, ravenous, and utterly consumed by hunger for something he never knew he needed. “Are you okay?”
I nod slowly, and my head only spins a little this time. “I think so.” I reach for the back of my head and find a soft, gauzy bandage.
An older man with glasses peers over Nico’s broad shoulder, and I immediately recognize the light blue scrubs. “Let me take a look at her now that she’s awake.”
Nico doesn’t budge, his eyes stubbornly locked on mine like if he blinks I might disappear.
“Mr. Rossi,” the doctor grates out. “Step aside, please.”
He finally does, but his gaze never falters, never deviates. Which makes me suddenly feel awkward as all heck when the doctor starts examining me.
“Do you have a headache?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“How bad on a scale from one to ten?”
“Maybe like a six.”
“Good.” He flashes a light in my eye and asks me to follow it, then resumes his examination, taking all my vitals. A few long minutes later, he takes a step back from the bed. “She seems fine. It appears to be only a mild concussion but again, I recommend an MRI to be certain. She needs to rest and take it easy for the next few days, avoid screen time and any strenuous physical activity.”
“I’m fine,” I mumble. “I don’t need to go to the hospital.” The last thing I want is to be stuck in the emergency room all day.
“Are you certain?” Nico is in my face again, the line between his dark brows furrowed. His concern is so unexpected it has my chest tightening. But still, I refuse to admit I’m familiar with a mild concussion and its aftereffects. I experienced two at the hands of Jasper…
Chasing away the dark memories, I force my tongue to loosen. “Yes, I’m sure.” I also don’t want to be associated with whatever happened down at the warehouse either. Which reminds me… “What the heck happened anyway?”
Nico grits his teeth, and the fear from a second ago morphs into rage. “It was probably my asshole half-brother. You know, the one you want me to make amends with. He almost got you killed.”
I shake my head a little too quickly this time, and the room spins with it. “No way Dante would do that,” I somehow manage despite the wave of nausea.
“You have no idea what he’s capable of or the lengths he’d go to destroy me.” Nico clucks his tongue and pivots to the doctor and this Jimmy guy. “We’re done here, you can both go.” The man in scrubs marches out the door without a second glance but Jimmy lingers, his mouth set in a hard line.
I recognize the name, but this is the first time I’ve met Nico’s right-hand man. He’s young with dirty-blonde hair, around the same age as him I’d guess but covered in tattoos from his neck down to his fingertips. He eyes me, and I immediately drop my gaze. The guy is scary and intimidating as all heck, nothing like the security guards that patrol the penthouse who try to look mean but, in the end, let me do whatever I want. Jimmy looks like he’d murder me in my sleep. A chill skirts up my spine, and Nico’s head swings in my direction as if he’s felt the shudder himself.
“Are you cold?” His anxious gaze rakes over me.
“A little.” I’d rather lie than admit the truth that his colleague has me freaked out.
Nico tugs the blanket out from under me and pulls it up over my legs. “I’ll be right back.” Then he practically shoves Jimmy out the room. It’s only when they’re both gone that I finally take in my surroundings, the navy walls, the scent of spicy cologne, the silky sheets. I’m in Nico’s bedroom, not mine—I mean the guest room.
Muffled voices echo from the corridor and from the sounds of it, both males are pissed. My temples start to throb, and I rub small circles with my fingers to dull the pain. Good golly, twenty-four hours back at work, and it looks like I’ll be out again for another few days, trapped in this penthouse on bedrest.
I lean my head back against the pillow, and my lids begin to droop. I must have fallen asleep for a few seconds because Nico’s sharp gasp jerks me from the peaceful void. My eyes snap open, and the flash of relief in his gaze is palpable.
“Merda, little fox, you scared me.” He sinks onto the edge of the mattress and drags his hands through his wild hair. Dried blood sticks to his face, and the bruise on his cheek is darkening. I have the most overwhelming urge to touch him, to wipe away the blood and press my lips to his discolored skin.
“You scared me too,” I whisper. “You know, if I hadn’t insisted on chasing after you, you would have been inside when—” Unexpected emotion cuts off the remaining words. The great, indestructible Nico Rossi would’ve been no more. The man I’ve come to solely depend upon and trust wholeheartedly could have died today. A rumble of nausea cramps my belly at the thought of a world without him in it. I blink quickly as tears burn my eyes, and a sob builds in my throat.
