Page 46 of Sexted By a Stranger
I raised my hand, gently covering the back of her hand resting on the tray's edge. Her hand was very cold, making my heart ache even more.
"Just a small matter. Already handled."
My voice unconsciously softened, my thumb stroking soothingly across the back of her hand, and then I waved at Ragnar and Lennox. "Execute the plan."
Both men bowed silently and swiftly retreated. The heavy study door closed softly behind them, leaving just the two of us in the room.
I tried to lean back in my chair, but the movement aggravated my shoulder wound, the sharp pain instantly causing fine beads of cold sweat to break out on my forehead.
"Luca." Sheila cried out, her voice cracking. She immediately leaned forward, one hand extremely carefully supporting my back, the other trying to steady my arm. "Don't move. Please… let me take a look."
With her help, I moved to the nearby sofa and sat down. She knelt on the carpet beside me, gently removing my shirt and peeling away the blood-stained bandages.
The sharp, pungent smell of alcohol spread as she opened the medicine bottle.
She picked up a cotton ball with tweezers, bit by bit wiping away the dried blood crusts and fresh blood still seeping from around the wound, her movements as gentle as if afraid of breaking precious porcelain.
I closed my eyes, feeling her cool fingers carefully touching my skin. Her breathing was somewhat rapid—clearly the wound had frightened her—but her hands remained steady.
"The wound's still inflamed," she murmured softly. "You really can't keep pushing yourself like this."
"Hiss..." When the alcohol inevitably touched the raw flesh, I couldn't help a muffled groan.
She stopped abruptly, looking up at me, eyes brimming with heartache and apology. "Does it hurt badly? I'll... I'll be gentler."
"It's fine." I looked at her. "You're doing great."
She said nothing more, just breathed lighter, moved slower.
After cleaning everything, she applied healing dressings, then wrapped clean bandages round and round, finally tying a neat knot.
Hard to imagine that in just two days, she'd become so skilled at these tedious, nerve-wracking procedures. Even worried sick, she never cried or complained, just silently shouldered the responsibility of caring for me.
This was my Sheila.
"There, the bleeding's stopped. You absolutely can't strain yourself, or the wound will tear open." Sheila exhaled in relief after finishing the bandaging.
I raised my uninjured hand, gently caressing her cheek. "Sheila," my voice somewhat hoarse, "go get some real sleep. Stop staying up."
"You need to get better fast," she shook her head, "otherwise I..."
She didn't finish, but I knew exactly what she meant. These past few days, she hadn't left my side, curling up on the sofa in my room at night, terrified something would happen to me.
My heart melted completely, while anxiety kept deepening.
Connor may be a viper coming for me—and I'll meet that strike head-on. But he dared to target Sheila! Now that he's confirmed my injury, he'll only grow more rabid. Sheila—cradled in my hands like something precious—has become the brightest bullseye for Connor and his jackals.
Keeping up the charade of the "jewelry tycoon"? That would no longer protect her. It would be wrapping a blindfold over her eyes—leaving her a lamb stumbling into a slaughterhouse, ignorant of the knife at her throat.
I gazed at her pure eyes, heart full of conflict.
"Luca?" Sheila spoke when she saw me just staring without speaking. "What are you thinking about?"
I pulled back my thoughts, meeting her concerned gaze.
"Thinking about you," I touched the corner of her eye. "Thinking about how you haven't slept well these days taking care of me."
Her face flushed slightly. "How could I sleep with you hurt so badly?"
