Page 75 of Coerced Wife

Hisblood.

“Oh my God, Sav.”

He utters a frustrated groan and tries to seduce me into continuing what we started by kissing me again, but I keep him at bay.

“You’re bleeding,” I say, my heart pounding in my chest at the sight of his blood.

He pauses and glances at my fingers. Surprise washes over his face. Craning his neck to the side, he looks over his shoulder to inspect his back.

I unwrap my legs from around his waist and turn him with my hands on his hips. “Let me see.”

He allows me to position him at one-hundred-and-eighty-degrees.

A long, deep gash runs over the spot where his kidney is situated. Blood oozes from the wound and drips down his back.

“You’re cut,” I say, my voice breathless.

“Not by a knife.” Studying the injury, he says thoughtfully, “It must’ve been a rock.”

“A rock?” I exclaim.

He looks at me. “We had to swim along the shore for a while. It’s impossible to see the rocks in the dark. I didn’t even feel it.”

The blood must’ve soaked his hoodie without either of us noticing the red on the black fabric.

“You have to see a doctor,” I say, hopping from the desk and adjusting my pajama bottoms. “That cut needs stitches.”

I make to go around him, but he blocks my way.

“No doctors, treasure. You know why.”

“Someone you can trust then.” I huff, the worry taking its toll. “Surely, you must have a doctor on the team.”

He smiles as if he finds the comment amusing. “We don’t employ doctors or keep one on standby.”

“Nicole,” I say, my tone decisive. “She knows you.”

“I can’t implicate Nicole in my crimes.”

“For crying out loud, Saverio.” My concern transforms into irrational anger. “What about one of your men?”

Despite my agitation, his smile stretches. “I sent them home to rest. I don’t trust the two gorillas outside with a needle, at least not anywhere near my skin.”

“For a made man, you’re very inadequately prepared.”

He only laughs. “I survived before.”

“Well, one day it may really be serious, and then?—”

He places a finger on my lips. “Don’t jinx me.”

“Ugh. You’re impossible.” I pull away and prop my hands on my hips. “Where’s your medicine kit?”

“I keep one in the kitchen under the sink.”

“That’s good to know,” I mumble to myself as I pick up my pajama top from the floor and pull it over my head.

“I’ll rinse off in the shower,” he says. “It’s no big deal.”