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“Thank you.”
I met his eyes and nodded. “I should be the one saying thank you. You risked your life to save me. Again. I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”
“You owe me nothing. Not now, not ever.” He shook his head and bent in pain to grab the blanket. I rushed to the bed to get it for him. This was all my fault. I felt like shit.
"I’m so sorry I ran. I was just so scared to get caught again.”
"I get... it... really..." His voice sounded strange, like it was spoken by someone far away.
When I turned toward him again, he was fast asleep. His face, framed by the white pillowcase, looked so peaceful in that moment. A stark contrast to his tattooed chest and arms. I’d caught glimpses of tattoos like these on Russian mobsters’ arms when they came to do business with Marcello. There was something deadly and scary about them, yet mysterious and freaking... hot.
Andrei was a man many would call a monster. I could only imagine the things he must have done to survive and earn those tattoos within his circles.
But to me, he was more than that. He was my savior, and as things stood right now, the only person who seemed to give the slightest damn about me. He had literally taken a bullet for me. A woman he didn’t even know.
Looking at him sleeping, bloodstains everywhere, including my hands, I swore that if this man truly was a monster, then from this day on, he would be mine.
When he woke up the next morning, I had hot tea waiting for him. He already looked a lot better. Tired, yes, but he had gotten out of bed by himself to freshen up in the bathroom, which was a good sign.
When he came out, I had changed the bedspread and had tea and breakfast prepared for him on the nightstand.
He sat down on the edge of the bed. “Thank you.”
“I need to check your wound on your back.” I felt his cheek with the back of my hand and looked deep into his eyes. No fever and his eyes looked clear and freaking stunning as always. Good.
“I declare you will live.” I smirked.
He met my eyes with a faint smile. “Thanks to my nurse.” He really was handsome, wasn’t he.
“I want to ask you something,” I said.
He took a big gulp of the tea—in silence.
“Why did you come looking for me?” I asked. “You told me to wait here but I left anyways. So why...”
He took another sip and stared into the tea mug in his hand. Then his eyes found mine. “I honestly... don’t know.”
When I looked into his eyes, I saw something there that I hadn’t seen before. A question? An answer? I couldn’t be sure. He looked away reluctantly, raised the mug to his lips, but then lowered it again in thought.
“Well,” I said changing the topic, “if it’s okay with you, I’d like to clean the inside of the car. It might look strange driving around with all that blood in it.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“But I want to.”
He nodded, and I left to get a bucket and rags.
Later, I made pasta for dinner. That’s all we had. When I carried the food into his room, he sat up with a painful frown.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I said. “But I think I burned the noodles a little.”
He looked at me in shock. “You burned... pasta?”
“If you saved me in the hopes I would be a good cook, then you made a mistake,” I joked.
“No kidding,” he joked back.
