Page 54 of Risky Vows

The cleaning crew will take care of the house and basement. We pay them a pretty penny for emergencies like this.

I look out the window and sigh. Amara rests her head on my shoulder and falls asleep. I can imagine her exhaustion from the last several hours and everything she suffered at Wrench's hand. I want to run my fingers over her face, but I don't want to touch her bruises and hurt her.

When Tom parks, I take her in my arms. She says something I can't understand, and I shush her.

Once we're home, I take her to our bedroom, and the doctor I texted arrives.

"Let me see what we have here," Dr. Shapiro says as he examines her. I have that bastard on retainer—another hefty expense, but totally worth it.

He checks her vitals, and she removes her shirt, exposing a nasty, purple-colored bruise. I curl my fingers into a fist, wishing I could revive the bastard who did this to her and kill him again—this time, slowly.

Dr. Shapiro asks her more questions and then says, "Your rib doesn't seem like it's broken, but we can X-ray the area to make sure."

"I'm fine. I had broken ribs before, and I know the difference," Amara says, cutting him off.

As the doctor continues his examination, I step back, and Colleen walks into our suite.

"Will she be okay?" she asks, touching her chest.

"Yes." I don't know for sure, but she better be. She didn't sustain any major injuries to her body, and there’s no evidence of bullet wounds.

"She's a bit dehydrated," Dr. Shapiro says. "We need to tend to her bruises, but in a few days, she'll look better. I'll set her up with an IV for pain relief and to replenish her fluids."

"I'm good," Amara says, her eyes closed. Whatever painkillers he’s given her are already working.

"You're a strong woman," Dr. Shapiro says, moving toward me. “She'll need a couple of analgesics for any ongoing pain. Call me if anything changes."

I nod. "She’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it."

Hours turninto a day as Amara sleeps. The painkillers Dr. Shapiro prescribed must be helping. I don't want her to have any more pain. Damn it, I’ve caused too much of it already.

I love her.

During the night, Amara moves restlessly as if she’s having a nightmare. Since she's been sleeping on her side to help the bruising heal, I carefully put my arms around her, letting her know she’s safe.

"Massimo," she murmurs, eyes still closed.

"I'm here, rat." I kiss her head gently. "I'm not going anywhere," I say, my voice soft, like it's about to break. I'm not leaving her. I have to tell her—to show her. But I can't do it now. Not in the middle of the night, when she's unconscious and recovering.

I make a shushing sound and run my fingers through her hair. Amara leans into my touch with a contented hum. She nestles her body perfectly against mine, and I hug her tighter, never wanting to let her go.

33

Amara

I wakeup with a better disposition. After a day and a half of living in a cloud of painkillers, I finally have more energy. I touch the side of my stomach. It's still tender but doesn't hurt as much as before.

The drugs have helped. I got plenty of sleep at night. And Massimo's presence has given me strength.

I don't know if he's been with me out of guilt for our argument before I was kidnapped or because he cares for me. Or maybe he wants to ensure I don't take off again. But I've enjoyed his presence immensely.

We still have to talk—a lot.

Colleen comes into my room. She's not carrying a breakfast tray, which is good. Today, I'm going downstairs for breakfast. I need to get out of this bed and face life again, but I’ll start with lunch.

I grab my phone and use the camera app to check my face.

The area isn't as swollen as before, but the blue tones around my eyes are still there. Fuck. I was hoping to visit Andie at the hospital.

---