Page 165 of Hot Tycoons Boxset

“I don’t know,” I shake my head, tears filling my eyes. “All I could think was he was going to kill you. What if I couldn’t manag

e to get to you? I was so scared. Ian, I was so scared.”

He pulls me into his arms. “We’re okay. We’re okay. You’re going to be fine. We’ll get that cut checked out.”

Moving away from me, he takes off his hoodie and puts it on me.

“Stop resisting.” He hisses when I try to tell him no. “You’ll die from the cold, and you’re going into shock.”

I am bundled up and stop resisting.

People are starting to look out their windows, and Ian picks up the picture that had fallen from the car as I had left it. I hadn’t realized I had still been clutching it. Ian’s eyes narrow before he puts it somewhere on him.

I can hear the blaring of the police car, but my world is hazy. We talk to the police and are offered a ride to the hospital.

Ian’s arms are around me and that is all I know.

He is safe.

He is alive.

We are at the hospital in half an hour and I clutch at the white bedsheet as the doctor in the emergency room gives me a few stitches on my forehead. I don’t know when everybody else arrived.

I can hear Fergus’s voice shouting something at someone and Philip growling. It’s Zayn whom I see as he throws open the door of the room, something wild in his eyes.

The minute he sees me, his whole body relaxes.

“You dragged me from my bed for just a few stitches?” His voice isn’t quite steady. “Bitch.” The term is affectionate, and he holds my other hand as Ian nods at him, leaving me to him.

“Wait, where are you—” the words slip out of my mouth before I can stop them.

“Just outside. I need to talk to Philip and Fergus.”

I am feeling a little better now, the headache subsiding. The doctor seals the last stitch and stands up. “You have a concussion, but otherwise you’re fine. Miracle, though. Anybody else wouldn’t have survived.”

Zayn’s hand tightens on mine, and I say, weakly, “Yeah, well. Lucky for me the airbags deployed on time then.”

The doctor gives me a strange look and leaves the room.

“Maybe I should finish the job the car crash clearly didn’t,” Zayn growls at me.

“Too soon,” I glare at him.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

I try to stand up but he blocks my way, and I scowl at him. “I was thinking that somebody’s going to kill Ian and I had better do something.”

“You could have called us.” Zayn isn’t relenting.

“Sure.” My voice is thin as paper. “I should have sat down, made myself a hot cup of tea, tried calling all of you, one by one, telling whomever answered their phone, ‘Hey. Somebody just sent me a weird-ass picture of Ian in his jogging attire with a red cross on it which smells like blood. Do you mind getting out of bed and coming all the way to my apartment area and see if he’s all right?’”

Zayn tightens his lips, and I take a shuddering breath, trying to channel my anger and shaking fear into something positive. “Look, I did what any of you would have done. The car meant to run him over on the sidewalk. I went with my gut. And now we’re both fine. Just let it go.”

“Fine.” His words are curt, and I wince at the quiet anger in that word. I don’t get a chance to say anything further because just then, Philip and Fergus burst into the room.

My brother and I share many similarities, having inherited our mother’s golden hair and blue eyes, but that’s is where it ends. Our personalities are like fire and water. I have more of a fiery temper that doesn’t take long to ignite while Philip’s temper is quiet, like an oncoming storm.

Right now, however, nothing about him is quiet. He looks like he is ready to rip something apart with his bare hands.

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