The wait brought back memories of when Demitri was shot a year ago. I lost a couple of years of my life from worrying whether I’d lose my best friend back then.
I’m standing in the hallway, leaning back against the wall and lifting my left arm, I check the time on my watch.
They’ve been working on Isabella for almost four hours.
Tristan walks toward me and holds out a bottle of water. “Drink something.”
Taking the bottle, I twist off the cap, and then I chug down a couple of gulps. I place the cap back on the bottle then toss it to Tristan. “Happy now?”
He catches the water with a chuckle.
“You don’t have to hang around with me,” I say. “Go home to Hana.”
Tristan shakes his head. “Demitri will kill me if I leave you here alone.”
“Fucking babysitters,” I grumble, only making Tristan chuckle again.
Just then, the doors at the end of the hallway open, and I push away from the wall as Dr. West comes out.
I stalk toward Tristan’s aunt, asking, “How is she?”
“What’s the patient’s name?” Dr. West asks instead of answering me. The woman is a genius and way too fucking practical, which makes her forget about the emotional side of things.
“Isabella.” Locking eyes with Dr. West, I ask again, “How is she?”
“The surgery went well. We removed a bullet. It entered through her chest but luckily missed her lungs and settled above her diaphragm. She also has a recent bullet wound to her left shoulder. A hack-job was done removing that bullet, so I cleaned the wound and stitched it up. Her left forearm has a small hairline fracture, and she has a head injury. Other than that, she’s okay. Dr. Oberio will keep a close eye on her during the next twenty-four hours.”
“So she’ll be okay?” I ask to make sure.
“Isabella should make a full recovery.”
Nodding, I let out a breath of relief. “Thank you.”
“Can I go?” Dr. West asks.
“Sure.”
She hesitates, then says, “I trust things are now settled between us?”
I nod. “Of course.”
Dr. West turns her attention to Tristan, but then I think to ask, “Can I see Isabella?”
“Yes,” she replies, gesturing to the doors.
Leaving Dr. West with Tristan, I quickly walk down the length of the hallway and push through the double doors. Dr. Oberio glances up from where he’s making notes at a small nurse’s station. There’s only one nurse on duty.
There are only three rooms, all with glass partitionings, situated around the small nurse’s station. The underground hospital serves the purpose if one of us needs medical attention.
“Mr. Koslov,” he says, a smile forming around his lips, and then he gestures to a room. “She’s in there.”
When I step inside the room, my eyes instantly fall on Isabella, where she’s lying on a bed, hooked up to various machines. The beeping is incessant, and it has me asking, “Is she okay?”
“She will be. Obviously, she needs some time to heal,” Dr. Oberio replies. “What name can I put on the form?”
“Just put down Koslov,” I instruct, so there’s no trace of Isabella being here.
I gesture to the machines. “It doesn’t sound like she’s okay.”
“It’s for us to monitor the patient’s vitals. Normal procedure.”
I fucking hate the noise but try to ignore it as I step closer to the bed. My gaze locks on Isabella’s way too pale face, and the weird sensation shudders through me again.
Christ, this shouldn’t have happened.
‘She also has a fresh bullet wound to her left shoulder. A hack-job was done removing that bullet…’
Isabella probably got shot last night, and knowing that she still jumped for the fucking helicopter.
Shaking my head, I reach for her hand. As my fingers close around hers, there’s a sliver of relief when I feel her skin is warm.
“You’re too brave for your own fucking good, little one,” I whisper.
Dr. Oberio pushes a chair closer. “Sit, Mr. Koslov.”
As I take a seat, I ask, “Do you know when she’ll wake up?”
“We’re expecting her to regain consciousness in the next couple of hours.”
Nodding, I turn my gaze back to Isabella’s face, and then I just stare at her. This is the longest I’ve been able to look at her, and I take in her beautiful Latino features. Her high cheekbones give her a regal look.
A fucking goddess.
I brush my thumb over the back of her hand, her skin silky soft.
My heart constricts, and I shake my head, but then I still, inspecting my emotions. I’m obviously attracted to Isabella and fuck, her strength demands my admiration.
My gaze drifts over her face again.
You’re strong enough to survive at my side, but how the fuck do I capture someone as wild as you?
I let out a soft chuckle thinking she’s probably going to lose her shit the moment she wakes up, and then drag her ass out of the hospital. She’s stubborn enough to do it.
Movement grabs my attention, and my eyes dart to the doorway as Demitri comes in. “How’s she holding up?”
“Okay.”
“Come on. I’m here to take you home so you can shower, eat, and sleep. It’s not negotiable.”
I’m tired as fuck and in no mood to argue with Demitri. Letting out a sigh, I look at Isabella again before getting up. I follow Demitri out of the room, then stop by the nurse’s station. “Call me if there’s any change.”
“Yes, Mr. Koslov,” the nurse replies.
I couldn’t sleep. After showering and changing into clean clothes, I grabbed something to eat and then came straight back to the hospital.
It’s unsettling.
Fucking unsettling.
Demitri’s sitting near the door typing a message on his phone. He’s probably chatting with Ariana. I’d tell him to go home if only he’d listen.
Turning my attention back to Isabella, I stare down at her, wondering when she got under my skin.
And what the fuck does it mean?
Do I want this woman?
To fuck, yes. I’m always game for that.
But to keep?
Frowning, I let out a sigh as I take a seat in the chair next to the bed. Just then, a soft sound escapes Isabella, and her features tighten as if she’s in pain. I dart back up, and placing a hand on the pillow next to her head, I lean over her.
“Isabella?”
She lets out another soft groan, and then her eyelashes flutter. When she opens her eyes, I glance at Demitri, “Get, Dr. Oberio.”
When I look down at Isabella again, our eyes lock, and then a frown forms on her forehead.
“Welcome back,” I say, the corner of my mouth lifting. “You’re made of some tough shit, little princess.”
Her lips part and she lets out an incoherent sound.
“How do you feel?” I ask.
Isabella keeps staring at me, the frown deepening on her forehead. “Who… are you?”
Everything stills inside me for a shocking moment. “Alexei… Koslov.”
Her eyes widen. “What?… How?” She glances around the room, then asks, “Am I still… at St. Monarch’s? What… happened?”
Just then, Dr. Oberio comes rushing into the room, and seeing Isabella’s awake, he smiles at her as he starts to check her vitals. “How’s our patient doing?”
“Confused,” she mumbles, a guarded expression settling on her features.
Moving back, I frown because something’s not right. “Isabella,” I say to get her attention. Once she looks at me, I ask, “What’s the last thing you remember?”
“Ahh…” Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, and her eyes drift closed as she tries to focus. “I think… I’m at St. Monarch’s to train.” She opens her eyes again then says, “Oh wait. There was an auction.”
I let out a relieved breath, but then Isabella continues, “My mother bid on Hugo… Damien was bought by Mr. Hemsley. I remember the shooting. Chaos… Wait…”
She focuses harder and shakes her head. “The last I remember was hearing Winter killed Blanco.” Isabella frowns at me. “You were involved.” Then, shaking her head, she asks, “Why are you here?”
Holy fuck.
My gaze snaps to the doctor, and I bite the words out, “That happened four years ago. What the fuck is wrong with her?”
Isabella flinches as if she’s in pain, and it has me asking, “Where does it hurt?”
“My head,” she murmurs. She lifts her right hand only to drop it down on the bed again as if she has zero energy to move.
“The memory loss could be from the knock she took to her head. But, in most cases, the memory returns in a couple of hours.” Dr. Onterio gestures to the door. “Can you give us some privacy so we can perform all the necessary checks, Mr. Koslov?”
Looking down at Isabella again, I say, “I’ll be right outside, okay?”
She hesitates, then asks, “Did you try to assassinate me?”
I shake my head. “No, I’m on your side.”
Relief washes over her features, and then she nods at me.
Leaving the room, worry gnaws at my insides as Demitri follows me to the waiting room. I stand and process what just happened, and then I turn to face my friend. “Isabella doesn’t remember the past four years.”
“It might be from the fall. Her memory can return at any moment.”
“What if it doesn’t?” I ask, my mind switching over to a higher gear, forming one plan after the other. “Or what if it takes a couple of weeks or months?”
He narrows his eyes. “What are you thinking?”
“This might be the perfect opportunity to bring Isabella over to our side.”
“How?”
I think for a moment, then lock eyes with Demitri. “I could tell her we’re engaged to be married. I can fucking tell her anything. Tell her Sonia tried to kill her because of her relationship with me, and get Isabella to trust me that way.”
Demitri shakes his head. “You’re seriously thinking of going through with a marriage to align Isabella with us?”
The corner of my mouth lifts, and I let out a burst of soundless laughter. “Like it would be a sacrifice on my part. Any man would be lucky to have a woman like Isabella.”
“You’re not just any man, Alexei,” Demitri says, looking uneasy. “Isabella might not take after Sonia, but she’s still the fucking Princess of Terror. If you somehow get her to marry you and her memory returns, she’s going to fucking kill you.”
I shake my head. “Not if I can make her love me.”
He lets out a bark of incredulous laughter. “You have no history with her. If she does fall for you, she’ll be falling for whatever lies you tell her. Isabella just has amnesia, she’s not fucking stupid.”
A slow smile spreads over my face. “Isabella was the party crasher at Ariana’s party that I hooked up with. The attraction was there once.”
“Okay,” Demitri lets out a sigh. “Let’s say she falls for you, and you marry her. What the fuck are you going to do when her memory returns?”
I shrug. “I’ll let her take a swing at me, and then we can have angry sex.”
Demitri shakes his head, glancing up at the ceiling as if he’s saying a silent prayer, then his eyes settle hard on me. “And if she tries to kill you, what do you expect me to do? Just stand by and let her have her way?”
Taking a couple of steps closer to Demitri, I place my hand on his shoulder. “You worry too much. I’ll deal with it when and if her memory returns. This might be the only chance I have to get my hands on Isabella, and it will be the biggest fuck you to Sonia.”
Letting out another sigh, Demitri shakes his head. “You’re making me old before my time.”
Letting out a chuckle, I smile at my friend. “I keep your life interesting, you ungrateful fucker.”
