Page 67 of The Billionaires

“I think I’m fine,” Lucius says. “It was just the shock of it.”

The bleeding has stopped, but I don’t dare let go of the pizza bagels.

“Let me check your pupils.” I peer into his eyes.

Hmm. Are the pupils supposed to be dilated or constricted in a concussion situation? In any case, his seem normal, but what do I know? “Are you nauseated?” I ask, since that one is more obvious.

If he is, it’s bad.

He shakes his head and winces.

“Use words,” I say sternly. “Among other things, I need to hear if you’re slurring.” That also wouldn’t be good, I’m pretty sure.

“I’m not nauseated. I also don’t have ringing in my ears,” he states. “And I haven’t lost my sense of smell or taste.”

I frown. “Are those also signs of a concussion?”

“I think so,” he says, but he doesn’t sound too sure.

“This is exactly why we need a doctor.”

Elijah runs into the room, carrying a stock of clothes and shoes.

“Careful,” I tell him. “If you slip again, who’s going to help me carry Lucius to the limo?”

Lucius scoffs. “I’m not going to be carried.”

“You are.”

He shakes his head and grimaces again. “Once you’re dressed, Elijah will help me stand.”

I grab what Elijah brought for me, which is a pair of heels and an oversized hoodie that I packed for the plane ride, in case it got chilly at thirty thousand feet. Or however high supersonic jets go. Needless to say, the hoodie does not go with the heels, but I’m not about to chide the butler, who still seems to be on the verge of crying. He must also be in some kind of shock, given his choices for Lucius—a suit jacket, sweatpants, and hiking boots. No socks.

Okey-dokey. Lucius pulls on the sweatpants and the boots as I hold the pizza bagels to his head. Then I instruct him to hold the bagels, and I turn to Elijah, who’s now just standing there like a statue.

“Help me get him up,” I order, and the butler springs into action, looking pathetically grateful to have me take charge.

Lucius exercises his colorful vocabulary once more as Elijah and I help him to his feet.

“Any vertigo?” I ask when he’s fully vertical.

He starts to shake his head, then remembers to use his words in time. “I’m fine. I don’t need a doctor.”

I point at the puddle of blood on the floor where he was sitting, and he goes pale again, shutting up as I drape one of his arms over my shoulders and Elijah does the same on the other side. Together, the three of us make it out of the mansion and onto the driveway, where the limo already awaits.

“You don’t think we should wait for the ambulance?” Elijah asks, sounding a bit more like himself.

“No,” Lucius says imperiously. Now that we’re away from all the blood, he seems more like his bossy self as well.

“I agree,” I say. “We’ll get there faster this way.”

We get Lucius into the limo, where I order him to lie down on the seat and let me hold the defrosting bagels.

“I’ll make all the arrangements as we drive,” Elijah says.

I nod, and he closes the door as I perch next to Lucius’s head. The limo pulls out, and I overhear Elijah speaking sternly on the phone before the partition goes up.

Some of my adrenaline leaks out. Overcome with a sudden wave of emotion, I stroke Lucius’s arm with my free hand. “How much does it hurt?” I ask softly.

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