Page 165 of Knights Game

I reach across the bed, to feel for Luca, and I’m greeted by his warm torso. So, he’s not bringing me breakfast in bed today. I smile and finally peel my eyes open, looking from the breathtaking view of the Caribbean beach we now call home to the man that owns me. Heart and soul.

The white cotton sheet is pooled at his waist, the dressing over his healing stab wound, which was changed yesterday and is healing well. His chest tanned from the hot sun.

I look down at myself in my camisole, pale and weak, but getting stronger with each passing day.

It’s been three weeks since we walked away from our past.

Mygutshotby some miracle missed all vital arteries and my actual stomach.

But Luca saved me.

He moans in his sleep, and I place my hand on his shoulder.

His face is chiselled perfection, his own complexion tanned from sitting out on the veranda that wraps around our beach house.

Only two people know we are here.

Kara Snow and Henry Duke.

I’ve been promised that Katy will be told when she wakes up from her medically induced coma. She’s through the worst. I’m getting daily updates and, although we have turned our back on our past lives, the guilt of leaving her and Grandad behind eats away at me.

Everyone else assumes we’re dead. Luca was “killed” in the gas explosion that wiped out the penthouse, me in the same fire that killed his uncle, Terry Peyton, and Asher Black.

I shift in the bed, and wince at the pain in my stomach, clenching my eyes shut. His warm palm cups my cheek and I lean into it.

“You’re awake,” he says, his voice thick with sleep.

I’d been sleeping a lot, but this morning, or afternoon, whatever time it was, I feel the most alert I’ve felt all week.

“Are you in pain?”

“I’m always in pain,” I grumble.

“You need some pain killers?”

“No, I’m good.” I smile tightly, and he helps me shift position. Plumping up pillows, he slowly moves me to sit up.

“My very own Florence Nightingale.”

“Makes a change, me looking after you for once.”

“Let’s make a deal, no more stab wounds and gunshots,” I say as I finally find a comfortable position.

“That, sunshine, is a deal I can make.” We both smile and I look over at the breathtaking view.

“I can’t wait to be able to lie in the sand.”

“I can’t wait to take you skinny dipping.”

“Perv.”

“Guilty as fucking charged.” He leans over and gently kisses me before climbing out of bed. His own movements heavy.

“How’s your stomach?”

“Not as bad as yours.” He pulls on a black pair of boxers. “Eggs?”

“Yes, please.”

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