Page 62 of Inked Adonis

“Are you sure about this?” I ask, hating how small my voice sounds. “Meeting Grams is... it’s not casual. At least not for me.”

“Are you not ready?”

“No, I...” I swallow hard. “Just... she’s everything to me. The only person I’ve ever really trusted.”

His expression softens for a fraction of a second before his usual arrogance slides back into place. “Then we better not keep her waiting.”

I take a deep breath and nod. I must be losing my mind.

Or maybe I’ve already lost it—lost it the moment this dangerous, beautiful man crashed into my life with his sharp smiles and gentle hands.

But then, to add shock to my panic, Samuil wraps one of those gentle hands in question around my waist and coaxes me through the front door.

No going back now.

“Your dog seems to have other ideas about the schedule,” Sam says dryly as Rufus immediately abandons us in the lobby to bask in attention from residents and visitors alike.

The Great Dane is in heaven, accepting pets and treats like the shameless attention whore he is. Every senior who passes has to stop and coo over him, and he’s eating it up, those paws dancing across the tile floor in excitement.

“Go ahead,” Sam tells me, his mouth quirking at the corners. “I’ll wrangle the social butterfly.”

I hesitate for a split second, but my need to check on Grams wins out. My heels click against the floor as I hurry toward the common room, rehearsing what I’ll say.Just a friend. Nothing serious. Definitely not the man who pinned me against a cage last night and whispered filthy promises in my ear about what will happen when—not “if,” butwhen—I come to his bed.

But the moment I see her sitting in the common room in a wheelchair, my stomach drops.

But all thoughts of Sam evaporate when I spot her.

“Grams!” The word rips from my throat. “Why are you in a wheelchair?”

She startles, one delicate hand flying to her chest. “Nova? What are you?—”

“What happened?” I drop to my knees beside her chair, gripping her hands in mine. They feel so small, so fragile. When did that happen? When did my strong, vibrant grandmother become breakable?

“I thought you were away,” she deflects, but I see the guilt in her eyes.

“And I thought you could walk.”

She waves dismissively. “Oh, I can. I just got tired of it.”

“Grams.”

A sigh escapes her. “It’s nothing serious, honey. I took a little tumble two days ago, hurt my hip. The chair is temporary. Just for a week.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” My voice cracks. “And why didn’t Hope say anything when she visited yesterday?”

“Don’t you dare blame Hope.” Grams wags a finger at me. “I made her promise not to worry you. You were finally taking some time for yourself, and I didn’t want to ruin that.”

I open my mouth to argue, but a familiar, booming bark cuts me off. Rufus charges into the room like he owns it, making a beeline for Grams. But instead of his usual bulldozer routine, he approaches her gently, laying his head in her lap with surprising tenderness.

“Well, hello there, handsome,” Grams coos, her face lighting up. “Aren’t you just the sweetest thing?”

I can’t help but snort. “Don’t let him fool you. He’s a menace.”

“Now, don’t listen to her,” she tells Rufus, scratching behind his ears. “She’s just grumpy because I didn’t tell her about my fall.”

“Damn right I’m grumpy?—”

“Give the woman a break, Nova. She was trying to protect you.”

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