DANTE
Viola makes a noise.
I glance over at her sleeping it off, whatever it is that they pumped her full off. Occasionally, she frowns but doesn’t wake up. She’s on my couch at the clinic. It was easy enough to get a post as the new resident doctor here. It comes with all the perks. I get a room with a view and a couch. I also get special privileges with what patients I take an interest in.
V has always been my special interest.
She moans again, reminding me why I came back. Leaving her in the first place was not my choice. There are things Viola isn’t privy to and doesn’t need to know about. Not everything revolves around her, no matter how many times I tell her. It was one of Adrien’s men who bragged about where they were keeping Viola that had me coming back. That bastard didn’t live long.
I’m surprised she stayed in here as long as she did. But maybe she knows deep down that she needs help. I should have seen it coming. She had been losing it for weeks. There was always going to be a fallout—a messy one that only I’m able to clean up. No one else.
She needs me.
What the hell am I going to do with her?
My phone buzzes. It’s one of her puppy dogs. With a sigh, I answer it because if I don’t, they’ll come here and start interfering, and that will get them killed.
“Duke,” I say.
“Where the fuck is she? You said you’d get her out? It’s been six hours.”
“She has a lot of drugs in her system,” I say in response to that. “She needs to rest.” The last thing we need is Viola, high on whatever shit they gave her, out for blood.
I can almost hear him bristling down the phone. “Fucking fine.”
I put the phone down.
“So it really is you?” I look up to see V sitting up, her face void of emotion. Her tells are going off like red flags—drumming her fingers, shifting in her chair like she can’t sit still. There’s also a slight tilt to her head, and her chin is jutted. She does that when she doesn’t want anyone to know how uneasy she is, faking confidence.
Interesting.
Why are you faking being easy around me, V?
I take her in, really take her in, wanting to grimace. She’s lost weight, and she’s exhausted mentally and emotionally. She put herself through hell and back, and for what?
Nothing.
If I ever had less respect for her, it’s right now.
I lean back in my chair, arms folded, waiting.
“A doctor, really?” she snorts after a few minutes of us both just staring at each other, taking each other in. Her body twitches again, reminding me that the drugs aren’t quite out of her system yet.
I raise a brow. I meant what I said to Lorcan. Keeping her here with me is best for now.
“The white coat suits you,” she says again, filling the void.
This is not the V I know. And love.
This is a shell of what she was. This place has eroded her training and ability to focus clean away. I warned her this would happen. I fucking warned her.
She needs a good fuck, that’s what she needs.
I drag in a breath and rub the back of my neck. I have tells too, but usually, they’re deliberate, especially around V. I want her to know I’m exasperated because she’s useless at reading emotions in others.
“You left,” she says finally, getting to the root of her issue with me. V is easy to manipulate if you know how; she’s a cat with claws who need someone to sharpen them on often. You take that away from her, and she breaks down, saying whatever comes into her head until the real V shines through.
Her last question I deem valid enough to answer.