Page 27 of Ms. Fortune
Once I was seated in the truck, I let Risky take over everything. He handled getting the pain meds and other essentials I would need while my wrist was bandaged. He got takeout for dinner and drove us back up the mountain, all while I existed in a fog of confusion. I thought the reality that I’d nearly died today began to set in, and all the fear and panic I’d forcibly shut down to get through the ordeal finally broke free. I started to shake, and my breathing was rapid and uneven. At some point, I couldn’t stop myself from crying.
I was a wreck.
I didn’t remember getting back to the lodge or crawling into bed. I vaguely recalled a glass of water being placed to my lips, swallowing one of the painkillers, and then nothing else.
When I opened my eyes, it was well into the next day, and I felt like I’d been run through a garbage disposal. My injured hand was propped up on a pile of pillows next to me, and there was no sign of my bloody clothes. I was wearing a large white T-shirt that clearly didn’t belong to me, and not much else.
I should probably ponder the implications of Risky stripping me bare and putting me to bed while I was zoned out, but first, I needed to use the bathroom and attempt to make myself feel human again.
I was standing in front of the mirror above my sink, looking at the black-and-blue side of my face, wondering if my luck could get any worse than having someone actively trying to murder me, when I heard footsteps coming down the outside stairs that led to my basement apartment. Risky came through the doorlike he owned the place, his free hand holding a plastic-wrapped plate overflowing with basic breakfast items.
Our eyes locked across the room, and his gaze skimmed over my still-skimpy attire. If I didn’t look like I’d just lost a boxing match, I would worry he might think I was trying to be alluring and seduce him. However, I’d never felt less sexy or appealing in my life.
He set the plate of food down on the small kitchen island and crossed his arms over his chest. “How are you feeling this morning, Lucky?”
I pointed to my face and gave a wry grin. “Anything but lucky. Which is nothing new.” I took my miserable self back to bed, fully intending to shut the world out and lick my wounds alone.
Risky arched an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side. I was glad he was back to pretending to be a happy-go-lucky hitchhiker instead of acting like the dangerous, devilish threat he’d revealed to be his true self.
“Have you ever had anyone point out there is a distinct difference between you having a run of bad luck, and your life being full of bad people? I mean, I think you might be clumsier than the average person and a tad reckless. Your real problem isn’t luck. It’s that you have a target on your back that shines like a beacon, attracting the worst sort of people because they know you’ll never blame them for being awful and treating you like a scapegoat. You’ll take on the fault because you’ve been trained to believe you’re an unlucky burden by those who should be closest to you. You aren’t the problem, Lucky. Everyone else is. I say this as someone who spent his former life surrounded by the actual dregs of society.”
My breath caught, and my heart shook violently within its icy enclosure. More and more frozen shards sheared off and melted at his words. This might be the singular time someone told methat whatever it was that was going wrong at the moment wasn’t my fault. I desperately wanted to believe him.
Maybe I was going to seduce him after all. How could I resist the only man who had gone out of his way to let me know I wasn’t a liability, not just to him, but to the entire world?
Risky pointed a finger and wagged it back and forth like he was admonishing a naughty puppy.
“I’m not having sex with you while you’re doped up on painkillers and you can barely move. Get that look out of your eyes.”
Under normal circumstances, I would’ve been horrified that my lascivious intentions had been telegraphed so clearly. I didn’t like losing the indifference I often hid my innermost thoughts and feelings behind.
I looked down at my bandaged wrist and noticed I was black and blue all over. The mottled colors of the bruising stood out vibrantly against the white bedding I was sprawled across. Definitely not the sexiest I’d ever looked or felt. It was probably a pipe dream to think I could seduce anyone in such a rough and ragged state.
I turned my back on him to hide my embarrassment, throwing my comforter back over my head so only my eyes were visible, and fiercely pretending like I hadn’t made a fool of myself by propositioning him. Avoidance seemed like the only solution to ease the awkwardness I felt like I was drowning in.
“Hey. You need to eat something before you go back to bed. That prescription they gave you to manage the pain is no joke. It’s going to wreck you on an empty stomach.” He motioned tothe food he’d brought with him. “I’m going to take care of you, even if you want to fight me over it.”
I’d been taking care of myself for so long; I didn’t know how to let someone take over the task.
I groaned under my breath and motioned to my bare lower half sticking out of the blanket. “Let me put some clothes on, and then I’ll eat something.”
Risky’s dark eyebrows arched, and the corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk. His caramel-colored gaze drifted over my bare legs, and I was assaulted with the memory that he’d already seen everything since he was the one who had put me in my current attire. There was little point in pretending to be modest.
“Lucky”—Risky’s deep voice sent shivers racing across my skin—“make no mistake—just because I won’t fuck you right now doesn’t mean I won’t be fucking you in the future. Especially if you look at me the same way you did a couple of minutes ago.” He chuckled. “You have no idea how much restraint I’ve been showing the last couple of days.”
I turned and went back toward the kitchen. I was suddenly starving.
“I never asked for restraint.” I grumbled the words under my breath, but he still heard them.
His crooked grin turned into a cocky smile.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. Just because I was in the mood to have sex with you a minute ago doesn’t mean I’ll have the urge again once my life stops falling apart.”
Our eyes locked.
The look on his face grew even more smug and knowing. “That’s fine. I’m happy to put you back in the mood once you’re feeling better.”
He shifted, and the flirty and fun act dropped like it was a mask he could put on and take off at his whim. “For now, we need to dig into who wants you out of the way. Sabotaging yourbusiness so you’re forced to sell is one thing. Trying to run you off the mountain is a whole different ball game. I thought the deck situation was dicey and sloppy. What happened yesterday was planned and precise. I lied when I told you that you had an enemy. It’s enemies, plural.”
