Page 46 of My Ruthless Husband

“But boys my age don’t interest me.” I lock my eyes with him then with effort turn them in Hal’s direction.

Out of nowhere, a hand seizes my chin and turns my face, revealing profoundly dark and furious eyes. “Do you want to get him killed?”

I inhale sharply. He did not just say that. Did he really say he…. I shake my head.

His gaze intensifies. “Then why are you playing this dangerous game, hmm?”

He cares about me. He is jealous. He is seriously jealous! There’s no denying it. My heart starts beating fast and hard. I cover his hand with mine. A brave move that makes me shiver. “What game?”

“Don’t act coy.” He bites out, further cementing my suspicion.

I reluctantly push his hand away. “I’m seriously not. I wasn’t lying when I said I don’t want to date boys my age.” When he just stares at me with a frown, I start to turn my eyes in Hal’s direction again, a final nail in the coffin.

“Why are you doing this?” He seethes.

I slide my gaze back at Damian and find him watching me intently.

For long moments. His eyes narrow ever so slightly as if he figured out something. I shoot my shot anyway. “I want you to see me again this weekend.”

“Why?”

“Because I miss you all the time.”

Chapter Thirteen

Present

Blinking against the soft light, my surroundings slowly come into focus. I find myself cocooned in the familiarity of my bedroom, a hint of confusion clouding my thoughts.

A foreign sensation tugs at my arm, and my gaze settles on the IV drip attached to it.

Question arises through the fog of my grogginess. My movements are slow as I shift on the bed and freeze when I find Damian standing in the corner of the room. Hands shoved in the pockets, his expression tight.

A raspy almost fragile whisper escapes my parched throat as I ask, “What happened?”

I’m not sure he heard me until I see him move. He pulls his hands out and starts uncuffing his sleeves, folding them one by one to his elbows. With the way he is clenching his jaw, it looks like he is distracting himself with the task so he wouldn’t lose his temper. “You don’t remember, angel?”

Bits and pieces of the day’s events begin to emerge from the fog—the skipped breakfast, the reckless decision to argue withHal to get my phone back. That led Damian to cut his meeting short and then… graphic images of what we did in the formal dining room this afternoon rush into my thoughts, making my cheeks heat.

I swallow in embarrassment and grimace at the dryness. I move to sit up and Damian is there in an instant, his hands steadying me as helps me sit.

Arranging the pillows behind my back, he gently pushes my upper body so I’m leaning against them. As if he knew exactly what I needed, he grabs the glass of water from the nightstand and hands it to me, his jaw still clenched tight.

When I reach for the glass, he pulls his hand back. I sigh, giving in, and let him guide it to my lips. “Thank you,” I mumble.

He says nothing and makes me lie back down. He fusses over the quilt around me.

“I’m okay.”

His fingers still and then his gaze lifts to meet mine, silencing me instantly with nothing but a look.

I avert my gaze. “M-my phone—”

“You need to rest.” His fingers stroke my hair back. His actions confuse me. He never cared about me. Yes, he was always particular about me being physically healthy and fit but this is different. He is acting like my fainting has concerned him. It looks like he’s deep in thoughts so I cover his hand with mine, stopping him.

“You promised you’ll give me my phone back if I joined you for lunch and I did.”

He removes his hand from my clutch and it stings.

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