Page 17 of Burning for the Billionaire 8

I give her a side glance, holding back my amusement at her downplaying her good deed. After a moment of silence, I sigh heavily. “I love him so much, Belle. I didn’t get enough time with him.”

“Grace, don’t you dare start with the pessimism. It doesn’t suit you. Dad says despite the fractured back, he’ll recover and walk just fine.”

Our father is an orthopedic surgeon, so I’d immediately consulted him about Rowan’s diagnosis. “I know, but the doctor said the head injury was severe. That’s why he won’t wake up. There’s a lot of brain swelling. He’s on a ventilator, Belle. That’s bad.”

He was injured trying to protect another firefighter from a fallen tree in the middle of a wild land blaze, acting as a human shield for his injured colleague. Knowing Rowan, he didn’t even think twice about it.

“If he’d just wake up, I’ll feel a little more optimistic,” I say, gazing ahead. “Right now, all I feel is dread when I think about...”

It’s hard to even finish. I can be positive about his recovery from his back injury, but thinking about the possible lasting effects of his head injury is terrifying. What if he doesn’t remember me? What if his speech and mobility are affected long-term? Rowan will be devastated. The doctor rattled off a list of possibilities that are starting to feel way too real.

“He’ll wake up,” Isabelle says. He’s strong, Grace. The man is built like a Viking. He’ll pull through.”

I chuckle and grab back onto hope. “You’re right.” Dashing away my tears, I sit taller. “He’ll pull through.”

Just as my optimism surfaces, however, disgust rushes in to overshadow it.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

Isabelle gasps. “Grace, I’ve never heard you drop an f-bomb before.”

Practically snarling, I get up as Devil—I mean, Devlin—strolls toward me. “What the hell is she doing here?”

“Who?” Isabelle stands, too, and follows my gaze.

“Remember the woman I told you about? The one who revealed Rowan’s identity?”

“Thatbitch,” she hisses.

“My sentiment exactly.”

We both glare at Devlin as she approaches, chic as always in a business-casual dress and heels. She looks like a dark-haired version of Isabelle.

“Grace,” she greets coolly. She gives my sister a fleeting glance.

“Devlin, what are you doing here?”

“I’m here to see Rowan. It’s all over the news what happened to him.”

I scowl. “You have some nerve coming here with your fake concern.”

Anger sparks in her eyes. “It isn’t fake, I assure you. Look, Rowan and I were friends for years. I...” She inhales. “I was angry at him, but I never wanted anything bad to happen to him.”

“Really? So that’s why you blabbed his secret and disrupted his entire life?”

She looks skyward. “He couldn’t hide forever.”

“Maybe not, but you deprived him of the chance to do things on his own terms. No way am I letting you see him.”

“And just who the hell do you think you are? You’re just a girlfriend he might grow tired of soon. You have no say in who gets to see him.”

“You want to bet?” Isabelle, who’s been listening with a curious expression, steps forward. She moves her Hermès bag from her right shoulder to her left and takes a step closer to Devlin.

I quirk an eyebrow, about to tell her I’ve got this. I’m no longer intimidated by Devlin or anyone else... well, except maybe Isabelle. Big sisters, especially ones like mine, can be terrifying. But as I watch mean girl face meaner girl—my sister—I step back. I think it’s time Isabelle stands up for her baby sister. Now I’m the one watching on with curiosity.

“Who the hell are you?” Devlin asks.

“Grace’s big sister.”

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