Page 14 of Provoked

I frown and stand up so I can stare him in the eye better. “It happened. Fred should be here soon, but he’s not answering his phone, so I can’t say for sure.”

“Fuck,” Justin mutters, his big body shifting slightly in the bed. “Where’s Margot now?”

I shrug. “Nobody knows. She slipped out a side door wearing a scarf.”

Justin rolls his eyes, and I almost cry with relief that his ornery side is back. But that feeling disappears when he announces, “I need to get you back to New York.”

I frown and cross my arms over my chest. “Not happening. Fred is coming and we’ll figure out why she’s after you and why here where she sticks out like a sore thumb. Plus, this is my home now and I can take care of you just fine.”

“You’re going to take care of me?” Disbelief and amusement twine through his weakened voice.

“Yes. Now be quiet. You need to rest.” I hold my fingers overhis mouth lightly to make my point. Awareness flares in his eyes and just as they begin to narrow, I jerk my hand back as if I’d touched something far too hot.

“Ingrid,” Justin warns, but his ability to yell appears to be have been dampened because he sounds almost gentle.

I don’t know what’s been going on while I was out, but it’s clear Ingrid is wound tight to the breaking point. She looks thinner and the dark bruise on her cheek has me wincing. She needs a good night’s sleep in a proper bed, I acknowledge as I watch her fall asleep folded over in her chair, her arms crossed under her cheek on the side of my bed. No wonder she looks so tired.

Hesitantly, I reach a hand out to touch her hair. She turns her head slightly, her cheek nestling into my palm. Asleep, she doesn’t flinch from my touch, which makes me wonder what she’s hiding.

I glance up from studying her delicate features to find Fred leaning in the open doorway, his eyebrows up and a grin spreading across his grizzled face.

“She finally got to you, huh?”

I ignore his obvious dig for gossip in favor of more important questions. “What’s Margot up to? And keep it down. Ingrid needs whatever sleep she can manage.”

Fred rolls his eyes even as he pulls another chair closer to the bed on the opposite side from Ingrid.

“Nothing good, boss. As you understand it, Ingrid inherits your estate if you die, right?”

I answer with a sharp nod.

“But what happens to the management of her trust?” he asks dryly.

I try to think back to all the legal paperwork. My brain is still a bit fuzzy, and all that was setup years ago. “Let me clue you in,” Fred growls. “If you’re married and die before Ingrid is married or turns thirty-five, your wife takes over the trust.”

A sick feeling churns in my stomach. “But I’m not married.”

“Margot says otherwise. Has paperwork ready and everything. It helps that she insisted on using only the best. And the best for forged documents in the metro area is a guy named Kevin. Unfortunately for Margot, Kevin and I go way back.”

“Fuck,” I whisper, feeling the need to yell and throw things. Only Ingrid’s face pressing into my hand keeps me still.

“Indeed. I would strongly advise that Ingrid come into her inheritance as soon as possible.”

My legs shift restlessly of their own accord as my brain tries to fathom how my dying actually puts Ingrid inmoredanger. The movement must wake Ingrid because her head lifts slowly, her eyes blinking as she tries to focus. A look of relief sweeps over her face as she spies Fred.

“Oh, good. You’re here,” she says softly, her hand gripping mine tightly.

“Ingrid…” I interject.

Her dark eyes shift to mine with complete trust. “What did I miss?”

“You need to get married,” I inform her abruptly.

Her eyes bounce to the open doorway and then back to mine, full of questions.

“I mean really and truly married,” I amend dryly.

Her eyes simply widen while a frown takes over her cupid’s bow of a mouth. “I don’t understand. Why do I need to get married when it’s you she’s trying to kill?”

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