Page 29 of The High Priestess

I told her I’m here for her protection, but she doesn’t seem to understand.

I hear the elevator doors shut behind Dominik and Santiago as I keep staring at Cassia.

She wipes sweat from her brow and lets out a sigh, which is out of character for her. She seems to realize her mistake and lifts her chin before she begins to walk toward the elevator.

Guarding Cassia, I’ve learned a few things about her. She puts on one hell of a brave act and comes across as a composed mafia boss, but beneath the surface, she’s scared out of her fucking mind and suffering in silence because she refuses to let anyone see her vulnerable side.

When she shoved me out of Eleni’s room and shut the door, it didn’t stop me from hearing her as she broke down.

She might fool everyone else, but not me.

Cassia presses the button for the elevator, but as the doors open, she sways to the side. Instinctively, I grab hold of her bicep to keep her standing.

She sucks in a sharp breath before snapping, “You’re hurting me.”

My fingers jump away from her arm, and it’s only then I realize I grabbed her right where she was shot.

Fuck.

“I’m sorry,” I apologize, my eyes flicking to her face to check if she’s okay. Her complexion is grayish, and I almost place my hand on her lower back but remember she was shot there as well.

We step into the elevator, and when Cassia sways again, she manages to press her hand against the side panel to brace herself.

Fuck this. I’m all for the woman making her own decisions, but this is getting ridiculous.

Turning, I scoop her up into my arms. I expect to get an earful, but instead, her head slumps against my shoulder, and I look down at her unconscious face.

The doors open on the first floor, and I exhale a sigh as I walk to the entrance. When I reach a golf cart, I stare at the open sides of the vehicle.

Yeah, that’s going to be a problem. Cassia will easily fall out.

Shrugging, I sit down behind the steering wheel and position Cassia on my lap before leaning her against my chest. I keep hold of her with my left arm while steering with my right.

I enjoy the sounds of nature as we slowly make our way toward the other side of the island, but only two minutes into the ten-minute ride, Cassia starts to stir.

I ease up on the gas, and the cart slows down to a crawl while I glance down at her face.

Her lashes lift, and for a split second, she looks drowsy, but then the sorrow and pain return, tightening her features and darkening her eyes.

Her gaze flicks around us before she realizes she’s sitting on my lap. When she darts off me, I shake my head because she shouldn’t be moving so fast. She might tear her stitches open.

She doesn’t even manage to remain standing for a minute on her own before she places her hand on the cart for support.

“Get in,” I mutter. “Before you pass out again.”

Luckily, she doesn’t argue, and I watch as she slowly moves to the passenger side. She sits down beside me and grips hold of the side panel.

Seeing that she’s struggling, I lift my arm and wrap it around her shoulders. “Just lean against me so you don’t fall out of the cart.”

Her hand presses against my ribs, but she doesn’t push away from me. Instead, she asks, “Why do you insist on helping me?”

“Because I’d hate to see you die after saving you twice.”

It’s not the only reason.

How do I explain that I can’t tear myself away from her? I’m scared the second I leave her alone someone will kill her.

I shouldn’t have left Ronnie alone. They wouldn’t have grabbed her if I was there to protect her.

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