Page 71 of Empire of Lust
Not to mention I need to get my hands on whoever did this. I’m not going through law enforcement, the so-called legal way. I won’t risk somebody getting off with nothing more than a slap on the wrist.
They almost took her from me and had the audacity to drive away.
No. A plea deal isn’t enough. They’re going to pay in blood for what they’ve done.
Staring at the small, fragile body in the bed, it’s clear even that won’t be enough. I can’t risk this happening again. I’ll have to install a tracking app on her phone. At the very least, for her protection.
And if it means being able to tell where she is at all times, even better.
I made the mistake of giving my little bird too much room to fly.
I won’t exactly clip her wings, but that doesn’t mean I’ll let her fly free, either.
BIANCA
What day is it?
That’s the first question that comes to mind when I open my eyes, but then it usually is. It’s bad enough when I take a nap in the middle of the afternoon and wake up without the slightest clue of what time or day it is. Adding painkillers to the mix makes it impossible to keep track of time.
When I check my phone, the date reflects back at me like a neon sign.Four days.It’s been four days since the car hit me. Four days of in and out of consciousness while random shows play on the big TV mounted on the wall across from the foot of the bed.
Sometimes, I wake up, and it’s night, and Callum is next to me. All it takes is a soft grunt or a sigh, and he’s beside me, asking if I’m okay, if I need anything, or if he can make me more comfortable. He can’t be sleeping well. I warned him last night that if he doesn’t start sleeping for real, he’ll end up in the hospital.
Just thinking about waking up with a bright light shining in my eyes and the paramedics loading me onto a gurney turns my stomach. Nobody could tell me what happened or why I was hurting so much. When I asked for my purse, all they did was put a mask over my face and blow oxygen at me. It was like waking up to a nightmare.
My heart races. I need to stop thinking about it. I’m safe now, and I doubt anybody has been better taken care of than me. The past few days have shown me a side of Callum I never knew existed. Gentle and attentive, trying to anticipate everything I need beforehand. He checks in on me a few times a day, even while he’s working, and otherwise hangs out here.
He’s even watched a few classic romantic comedies with me. Callum Torrio, the feared arms dealer, cracking up to an old Cary Grant movie. Nobody would believe it. I wouldn’t if I wasn’t curled up next to him at the time.
He’s made all of this so much easier to live with.
It only makes me feel worse that I was in that part of town at all. Why was I even thinking of signing a lease to begin with? It’s hard to remember now that I know this side of him exists.
Maybe this is a turning point. It would make all the pain worthwhile. The idea makes me smile, even as I fight to swing my legs over the side of the bed so I can use the bathroom. Moving around is getting easier, but I’m still sore and stiff. One of the nurses told me I’m lucky I didn’t break anything, and I know she’s right, but there’ve been moments when I was sure the x-rays were wrong, and I had a broken leg or arm. No, it didn’t make sense, but who thinks clearly when they’re in pain?
Four days have made it easier to face myself in the mirror, too. I don’t flinch away from my reflection while washing my hands. The bruise on my cheekbone will turn an ugly shade of yellow and green before long, but I can cover that with makeup. The scrapes, too.
“You’re still perfect,” Callum told me as I drifted off to sleep beside him the first night. I don’t know if he thought I could hear him or not, but I’ve heard those three whispered words in my head countless times since then. He still thinks I’m perfect.
Could this mean he has actual feelings for me?
There’s no time to mull that over since my phone rings on the nightstand. Stephanie has been checking in on me from the office, and I don’t want to miss the call if it’s her, especially when she’s covered for me since the accident.
It’s not Stephanie, but somebody I’ve been dying to talk to. “Buongiorno,” I chirp on answering. “Wait. Are you still in Italy? I’ve lost track of your jet setting.”
“Are you serious?” Tatum blurts out with an edge in her voice. “You’re cracking jokes?”
Oh, no. I sink to the bed while my heart continues plummeting until it’s down around my ankles. She must’ve found out about us—why else would she sound so pissed? “I’m sorry,” I whisper over the tears clogging my throat.
“You got hit by a fucking car, and I had to wait four days to find out? Did you forget all about me?”
She sounds genuinely hurt, so it’s probably not cool that I’m so relieved. She’s only upset that she didn’t know about the accident.
“When were you going to call me?” I can almost see her standing in front of me, arms folded, tapping a foot against the floor, and looking murderous.
“I’ve been so out of it. I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to keep it a secret or anything.” I stifle a groan while settling back against the pillows.
“Are you okay? I mean, considering?”