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“Seriously?” She blinks and looks in danger of passing out. “How can you be so calm about this?”
“Because…” I capture her hand and bring it to my cheek. She’s shivering, her concern genuine. Good. It better be. “Your guilt will make it far easier to convince you to go along with my next plan.”
“Of course.” Her eyes narrow. “Only someone like you would see this as a business opportunity.” She snatches her hand away.
I yank it back. “Only someone like you would choose to fight with a man grievously injured on your behalf.” Her wince lets me know that my barb hit the bullseye. “Which brings me to my first stipulation. Who the hell were those men, and why were they after you?”
She looks away, biting her lip in that infernal way. “I’ll stay until you’re discharged, of course,” she says, changing the subject. “I’ll take care of everything and make sure Ann clears your schedule for the week. You need to rest, and you need someone to help you with your bandage. The doctor clearly stated that you need to change it on a set schedule to prevent any infection.” She eyes the small square of gauze in question. Damn her. I’m the one who’s been bloody shot, but I feel like she’s hurting far more than I am. I need to know why.
“Tell me the truth,” I insist, “and I’ll let you change my bandage after I’m discharged.”
“Twice a day,” she blurts, shifting her attention to the tangled cords coming off my chest. “On a set schedule. No fussing. And I get to make sure you eat regularly. No complaints.”
“As you wish,” I reply.
“I’m not used to you being this agreeable.” With a sigh, she turns to me and runs her finger along the edge of said bandage. “The truth is… My big brother has a gambling problem and needs me to bail him out again. Fifty thousand dollars’ worth of trouble. I didn’t tell you because it’s my cross to bear—not yours.”
She looks like she might be ill. I tell myself that concern of that outcome is the only reason I reach for her chin, tilting her face within my view. Her skin is pale, making her eyes seem massive, swollen with fear.
“Let me guess—he thinks you are responsible for paying off his debt?” That I can relate to. Alexander seems to subscribe to the same school of thought. In the case of Evelyn’s brother, I’m willing to extend a bit more understanding. Were I in his position, perhaps I’d be content to let her fix all my messes as well. It’s not every sister who would take a bullet for her sibling.
She shrugs, evading my grasp. “That’s what family is for, right? But honestly, I haven’t been that good of a sister to him, either. When our dad died, I cut and run after he landed himself in jail for a third time in a row. Maybe I should have tried harder to help him. The past ten years have been a game of cat and mouse between me, Danny, and his many criminal creditors.”
“You’ve dealt with those men alone?” It’s a struggle to keep my voice steady. Given how they reacted to me, I can only imagine the hell she’s put up with. All while maintaining a stellar performance record without a day off. “In three years, you never asked for assistance.”
She scoffs. “From a pampered billionaire who has no concept of a credit score? I think not.”
“I would have helped you,” I insist, more affected by her doubt than I suspect I should be. Danger aside, I mean every word. Especially if she looked then as she does now. Wistful. Thoughtful. Defenseless. Vulnerable. “Even without Adrian Riley holding your secret over my head.”
“What?” Her eyes threaten to fall from her head. “You mean… You knew?”
“Not the full truth,” I clarify. “Just the kidnapping, and your full name. And… There’s something else.”
Her face falls as she traps her lower lip between her teeth. “Let me guess—he threatened to expose my past merely to humiliate you?”
“Worse. He somehow got ahold of the images you sent me. You remember the ones. He attempted to have them published—”
“Oh, my god.” Her eyes widen, and I feel a sense of relief for not telling her in the moment. I’m pretty sure my original guess as to her reaction would have been proven correct, and Adrian Riley would have been manually castrated.
“I handled it,” I add before she can worry. “He won’t bother you anymore.”
“The merger,” she says, her eyes on my face. Damn. It’s like she can read my bloody mind. “That’s why you agreed to it. No wonder you were so pissed. What a bastard! I’ll give him something to exploit…” Her voice cracks, and those eyes take on a familiar, fiery gleam.
As much as I’d enjoy watching her lay into Adrian Riley, he is my cross to bear. “It isn’t personal, if that makes it any better. Riley would stop at nothing to undermine me, no matter the collateral damage.”
She frowns, processing the realization. “No wonder you can’t stand the man, disputed paternity aside.”
“He doesn’t matter—” My hand moves without prompting. When I smooth a lock of hair from her face, she sighs in a way that almost makes me wish I’d actually taken a bullet for her. It would make her far more appeasable toward the plan I have in store.
“Any other truths we need to share?” she asks with a shallow laugh.
“Perhaps one… I hate your cooking.”
“Really?” If anything, she looks more shocked by this revelation than by Riley’s machinations. Shifting to face me, she cocks her head. “But you love my oatmeal.”
“I endure it,” I clarify. “You’d nag me otherwise.”
And I didn’t want to hurt you,is the part I hold back.
