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“You’re not going to die down here. Got it?”
Every fiber of my being wants to believe him, but as much as he looks like a god, he isn’t all-powerful.
With absolute surety shining from his eyes, his voice is low and demanding when he says, “I’ve survived much worse. That’s how I know you’re not going to die. Trust me,malen'kiy olen'.”
I nod, praying to all that’s holy he’s right.
Needing a distraction, I ask, “What do those words mean?”
The corner of his mouth lifts in a hot smirk that seems so out of place while we’re surrounded by debris and concrete.
“Little deer.”
A frown line forms between my eyes. “Why?”
“Because you’re skittish like one.”
My lips threaten to smile, but another popping sound has me cringing, and the fear is pushed back to the foreground.
“I have a name for you, too,” I admit with a shaky voice. There’s no hiding my anxiety and horror, but talking to him is helping me not to have a total breakdown.
He pushes his hand beneath my head, and lifting it, he places his rolled-up jacket under me so I can use it as a pillow. Gently, as if he’s afraid I’ll break, he lies me back down.
“What?” he asks, as he lies down beside me, resting his head on his arm.
“Mio principe.”
His eyes lock with mine. “You think I’m a prince?”
“I know it sounds stupid.” It takes another second before I realize. “Wait. You speak Italian?”
He nods.
With my mind still foggy, I only now think to ask, “Did you get hurt?”
He shakes his head. “Just a couple of bumps and bruises.”
I believe him because he hasn’t shown any signs that he’s in pain.
As if he remembers something, he leans closer, and lifting my head, his fingers inspect the back.
“My head is fine,” I assure him so he won’t worry.
His eyes find mine again. “Do you have pain anywhere else?”
Deciding it’s best that I’m honest, I admit, “My chest. It hurts when I breathe.”
He lowers a hand to my ribs and checks my chest.
Glancing down, I see there’s nothing left of myDolce and Gabbanasequined crop top. At least my black bra covers my breasts and I didn’t lose that as well during the fall.
“You could have broken ribs.” He brings his attention back to my face. “Tell me the moment it gets difficult to breathe.”
I nod. “It just hurts, but I can breathe.”
He surprises me by wrapping a hand around the side of my head and pressing a kiss to my forehead.
Even though it feels like hours have passed, it’s probably only been ten minutes.
