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The bruises on his fist. The way his arm seems weak.

Tentatively, I take a step toward him. Even now, with the air burning between us, I can’t help but want to help. Guilt is one hell of a driver.

“The blood’s from the fight, right?” I ask.

Fabien shrugs.

“His? Mine? I don’t know whose blood it is. I don’t even care.”

He’s sacrificed a lot to get here.

“Your arm’s sore.”

“I’m fine.”

“Can I help?” I suggest. “You look like you’re in pain. I can wash your hands.”

“No.”

It’s a bark.

Don’t fucking touch me.

“Okay.”

Fabien sighs.

“Did those suits manhandle you?” he asks, eyes not meeting mine. “The ones who kidnapped you and put the hood over your head? Did they hurt you?”

“No.”

“If they did, then tell me, and I will deal with them.”

“No one hurt me, Fabien.”

“Okay. Good.”

There’s a long silence. I stand here by the doorway of the bedroom. Fabien sits on the bed, his hands gripping the sheets. Both of us are avoiding looking at each other.

And, even now, Fabien can’t help but check I’m okay.

It seems we’re as fucked up as each other...

“I will not take anything from you,” he says. “Even what they’ve requested. I won’t do that. Not even for them.”

I freeze.

Of course.

That part of the task. I don’t even want to think about it. Lose my virginity to the man who hates me so much he can’t even say my name?

“Then how?”

“I’ll figure it out,” Fabien replies, staring at the ground. “Somehow.”

I take a step inside the bedroom.

“We’ll deal with that when we get to it.”