Page 26 of His Ruthless Obsession

Jazz snatches her arm back. "I should get some sleep."

"Or you could have a drink with me." I move to the bar cart, selecting a bottle of red. As I pour, I deliberately let some splash onto my white shirt. "Damn."

"There are towels in the kitchen."

I unbutton my shirt slowly, watching her eyes follow my movements. "Don't worry about it."

The night air hits my bare chest as I drape the shirt over a chair. Jazz's gaze lingers before she forces herself to look away.

"You did that on purpose."

"Prove it." I hand her a glass, letting my fingers linger against hers. "Stay. Have a drink. Tell me about your day."

She takes the wine but maintains her distance, leaning against the terrace railing. The city lights cast shadows across her face, highlighting the war between desire and distrust in her eyes. It only makes me want her more.

Soon. I need to let her adjust but soon.

I'm not sure why I'm even here except that I need to see her. I need to know that she is okay, that no one has come for her.

I drag myself up to the penthouse at three in the morning, blood seeping through my torn shirt. The metallic taste in my mouth won't go away no matter how many times I spit. Fucking Mantiones and their ambush. Should've seen it coming.

The elevator doors open and instead of knocking, I use my key. Once I get the door unlocked, I stumble into the darkened living room. My ribs scream in protest as I try to straighten up.

"Jesus Christ." Jazz's voice cuts through the darkness. A lamp clicks on, illuminating her standing by the couch in sleep shorts and an oversized t-shirt. Her eyes go wide at the sight of me. "What happened?"

"Business meeting went south." I press a hand to my side, fresh blood coating my fingers.

"That's not an answer." She rushes forward but stops short of touching me. "You need a hospital."

"No hospitals." I shrug off my ruined jacket, wincing. "First aid kit under the sink will do."

"Are you insane? You're bleeding everywhere."

"Jazz." My tone carries a warning. "The kit."

She disappears into the bathroom, muttering under her breath. I ease onto one of the bar stools, every movement sending fresh waves of pain through my body. Three of Luca's men jumped me outside the warehouse. I handled it, but not before taking a few hits and a knife to the ribs.

Jazz returns with the medical supplies. "Take off your shirt."

I try to smirk but it comes out as more of a grimace. "Usually you fight harder against seeing me shirtless."

"Shut up and strip before you bleed out on my floor."

I manage to get the shirt off, revealing the full extent of the damage. Purple bruises bloom across my torso. The knife wound isn't deep but it's messy, still oozing blood.

"Christ." Jazz's fingers ghost over my ribcage. "These might be broken." I go to reach for the kit, used to patching myself up, but she snatches it back. I just hold my hands up — the best I can — in surrender.

"Probably." I hiss as she starts cleaning the cut. "Careful with the merchandise."

"Maybe next time don't get into knife fights."

"Wasn't exactly my choice." I grip the counter as she applies antiseptic. "They were waiting for me."

Her hands pause. "The Mantiones?"

"Don't ask questions you don't want answers to, little dove."

Instead, she presses her lips together. "How do you know if something needs stitches?"

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