Page 111 of The Reluctant Wife

I scoff and begin to turn, but he stops me with a hand on my shoulder. "You sure you want to see this?"

Something in his gaze tells me I’m not going to like it, but hey, I haven’t come this far to lose my nerve at the last second. Not when the person who’s turned my every day into a nervous reality, where I've had to second-guess my every step and jump at shadows, has been taken down. "I need to see who it is, so I can get some closure." I set my jaw.

He nods. "It’s not pretty."

I square my shoulders, then turn and take in the figure on the ground. All dressed in black, with camouflage paint streaked across her features, her eyes are open and looking into the distance, already glazing over in death. There’s a smoking hole between her eyes.

"Veronica?" I furrow my brows.

How? Why?I shake my head, not sure how to equate what I am seeing with the meek, excitable, and largely supportive woman who’s been my personal assistant for more than a year. Suddenly, my mind starts flashing with memories of things shedid that made me uncomfortable—the bowing and scraping, using my full honorific every time she addressed me, the fervency with which she viewed my position and her admission she wished she were a princess; going so far as to ask if I knew any single princes, followed by her concern about Gavin.

OMG! The signs were there, and like an idiot, I ignored them.My stomach roils. Bile boils up my throat, and I swallow it away.I will not be sick. Will not.

There’s a sound behind me, then Ryot’s arm circles me from behind. "I’m sorry, I know she was a friend of yours."

"Not that good a friend, apparently. And she was my employee, which means she was never really my friend." A distinction which is, once more, brought home to me. Another reality of my life which I need to be able to accept. There are very few people in my life I can trust, very few relationships money and my position haven’t tainted. Ryot is one of them. His grip around my shoulders slackens. I turn to find him swaying. "Ryot!" I throw my arm about his waist. "Are you hurt?"

"It’s just a scratch." He laughs, then coughs, a look of surprise on his face. He looks down at his chest. I pull up his shirt and gasp. It’s a small circle of red, almost deceptive in its size. "You’re hit," I cry.

He coughs again and stumbles.

I try to grab him, but his weight is too much. I manage to slow his fall, though not enough; the back of his head connects with the sand.

"Ryot!" I pull off my blouse and press it against the wound. There’s a buzzing sound in the distance. That must be my heart racing and going into overdrive. The blood saturates the cloth I have pressed to his chest so quickly, I gasp.

I look up to find his features are pale, but his green eyes glitter. They look at me with almost feverish intensity. "If something happens to me?—"

"No, nothing can happen to you." I taste salt on my lips and realize I'm crying. "I will not let anything happen to you."

He laughs. "My fierce, strong Empress." He coughs. More blood spurs out of the wound.

"Ryot, don’t speak, please."

The buzzing sound grows louder.

"That's the chopper; you’ll be safe now." Some of the rigidity melts from his shoulders. "If anything happens to me, remember… I love you." He closes his eyes.

"No, no, no, no." I continue to put pressure on his chest. "Ryot, open your eyes."

When he stays still, I slap his face. "Wake the fuck up. Don’t you dare die on me, you asshole."

He coughs, then cracks open one eyelid. "Jesus, woman, taking advantage of me while I’m down, I see." He shuts his eyes again.

"Ryot." I cry. "Don’t leave me, please."

There’s no response. My heart feels like it’s going to cleave through my ribcage. The pressure in my head feels unbearable.No, no, no. This can’t be happening."Wake up Ryot. I need more orgasms. Many, many, many more orgasms, which only you can give me."

His eyes open, and he laughs, then winces in pain. "Glad you have your priorities right, woman." His eyelids flutter down, and he slumps.

There’s something about his stillness that sends my blood pressure shooting. I keep pressure on the wound and begin to cry in earnest. "Oh, Ryot…please baby…hang in there. I beg you."

I can’t take my gaze off of his face. Not when thewhump-whump-whumpgrows deafening, and the helicopter comes in for landing on the beach. Not when the wind from the rotors results in sand blowing over us. Not when the paramedics fromthe chopper race toward us and place an oxygen mask around his face.

Not when someone guides me to my feet, and I follow the medics as they rush the stretcher with him into the chopper.

I hold his hand all the way to Verenza and then through the doors of the hospital, letting go only when they rush him into surgery.

"How is he?" Zoey bursts into the waiting room of the Verenza Medical Center.

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