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“Possibly,” Lucas agreed with a solemn nod. “But you knew about my activities from the first day. I told you how it was going to be. And really, Stephanie? Calling me names? When you fucked Tom Chilton, Robert Stapleton, Damien Bryce and … what was that pediatrician’s name?” He glanced up at Andrei as if the bodyguard could provide the missing name, but he was now glaring at Lucas’s soon-to-be ex-girlfriend.
Stephanie’s face turned bright red and her thin body fairly vibrated with rage. “Bastard,” she said in a rough whisper. “So it’s okay for you, but not me?”
“Of course not. But there’s a big difference.” Lucas narrowed his eyes. “I never lied.”
She glared at him a second longer before spinning on her heel and stomping out of the penthouse. The door slammed loudly behind her and Lucas took a drink of water. He looked up at Andrei with a crooked grin. “I think that went well.”
Andrei slowly shook his head. “Normally I’d say breaking up while on painkillers is a bad idea, but that was probably a good call.”
“Probably?”
“Well, she is gorgeous,” Andrei said with a sheepish grin.
“But that’s all she is.” He closed his eyes and sighed. Exhaustion slammed into him. He could sleep sitting in the chair.
“Mr. Vallois, I think you’ll be more comfortable in bed.”
Lucas stared at him, biting his tongue to keep from asking if the man would be joining him. He certainly looked far more appealing company than his frozen ex-girlfriend. But he was too tired to think about enjoying bedroom fun. “Probably.”
It took two tries but he finally got to his feet. Andrei hovered close, but didn’t touch him as he followed him across the room to the stairs.
“Do me a favor,” Lucas murmured.
“Yes.”
“The concussion—and probably the painkiller—rattled my brain. Remind me tomorrow about what happened with Ms. Breckenridge. I don’t want to do that again.”
“Of course.” Andrei’s words hummed with humor.
Lucas sat heavily on the edge of the bed and started to struggle with the arm sling. Setting the bottle of water on the bedside table, Andrei stepped close and carefully removed the sling. Lucas froze for a breath, trying to soak in the feel the other man’s warmth, the strangely reassuring comfort he got from the man’s closeness.
“You’re a good nursemaid,” Lucas said, noticing the slur in his words.
Andrei stepped back and chuckled. “It’s easy when your patient is drugged to the gills.”
Lucas’s head swam for a second. “Are you planning to take advantage of me?”
Andrei laughed again. “No, Mr. Vallois.”
Lucas grunted, lowering his eyes to the man’s chest. He liked the way his T-shirt stretched over his muscles. “Yeah. Nobody likes rebound sex. All that crying.”
“Is there anything else I can help you with?” Andrei asked, sounding like he was fighting more laughter.
Lucas looked down at his heavily bandaged left hand and arm. Getting his sweater off was going to be a bitch. “My shirt,” he mumbled. He really did hate asking for help. “But I promise not to take it as you undressing me.”
“I appreciate that.”
Andrei’s low voice sent a shiver through Lucas that he didn’t bother trying to hide. The man just shouldn’t be allowed to speak. Was it the rough rumble? The hint of an accent that he couldn’t quite place? The horrible mix of drugs and alcohol and concussion that was messing with him? Yes to all of the above. Yes.
Andrei took a half step closer, his knee brushing against Lucas’s as he plucked up the edge of the sweater. He gathered up the shirt, careful not to brush his fingertips along Lucas’s bare skin. With one side pulled up, Lucas slipped his right arm free. Andrei then stepped left, lifting the fabric over his head and then carefully down his left arm.
Lucas rubbed his eyes, trying to push through the fatigue. He couldn’t understand this overwhelming need to sleep when he’d been unconscious for the better part of two days. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he’d get back into his normal routine. Or at least close to it.
When he looked up, he found Andrei staring at him, clutching the sweater to his chest with both fists. His knuckles were turning white he was holding the material so tightly. The man’s face was an unreadable mask, but his eyes were wide with surprise or maybe panic. His breathing seemed shorter and faster.
“Do I look that bad?” Lucas asked as he glanced down at himself. Had Snow missed a hole in his chest when he’d patched Lucas up? His left shoulder was covered in a reddish purple bruise and more bruises covered his chest and stomach. He also had a nice accumulation of faded, white scars that stretched over various parts of his chest from his years in the Army and earlier, but he didn’t think he looked too terribly bad.
“No, Mr. Vallois. Just … lost in thought calculating your recovery time to full mobility.” Andrei dropped his gaze to the shirt in his hands, then turned suddenly and walked to the bureau to lay the shirt down.
