More than okay. I’m feeling fantastic. But—must stick to the plan. “I’m not dead.”
She clasps her hands over her mouth, tears filling her eyes.
“Come.” I open my arms, then wince. I’m not faking that. The third moron stabbed me in the side, and it throbs when I spread my arms.
“Oh my God.” She rushes over like she’s about to throw herself on me.
I brace to catch her, but she stops right in front of me, then hesitates. “Oh my God,” she says again. “Look what happened to you…”
Some bruises and the little stab wound? I’ve been hurt worse, and I didn’t have anybody to shed pretty tears, either.
I’m tired of waiting for Angelika to wrap her arms around me. So I hug her. Her head on my shoulder, she bursts into tears.
Antoine’s jaw has sagged open with shock as he stands behind her and watches us. He slowly shakes his head.
I shoot him a small smile. But my eyes are giving him a death threat. If he screws this up for me, I’m going to make sure he never gets to meet his unborn child. And no one will ever find his body.
He understands the message. He gives me a final disbelieving smirk and leaves.
“Shh… It’s okay. If you cry too much, you’re going to look like a goldfish,” I say, patting her back.
She lifts her head and glares at me. “Who cares about my eyes when you’re hurt? I didn’t realize… I mean, I know you could be hurt, but I never imagined…”
“Seeing it is worse than just thinking about it.” Which is why I did it the way I did. My original plan was that she would never see a thing. “But you’re safe now.”
“You should’ve waited for the police!” She tries to yell, but fails because she starts crying again.
I wipe her tears with my thumbs. “They would have been too late.”
“You could’ve died.”
The little fawn must think I’m a fool to think those subpar idiots could touch me. Regardless, it makes it easier to milk her sympathy and love. “Could have. Didn’t.”
She looks at the bandage over the stab wound. She shakes her head like she still can’t believe it. “It might leave a scar.”
It will leave a scar. I’ll make sure of it, so she never forgets that I took a knife for her. If Dominic can sport a bullet scar, I can have one from a knife fight. “If you kiss it, maybe it won’t,” I say.
Her jaw slackens, then she lets out a laugh. “You can’t be that hurt.”
“Not a joke. I’m serious. I’m a man. I have to try.”
She gazes at me, her swollen eyes still wet with tears. She couldn’t look more beautiful.
She leans over and presses a soft kiss on my mouth, then my forehead. I grunt a little at the G-rated kisses, but it’s a vast improvement over how she’s been over the past seven days.
“Roy’s missing,” she says after a moment.
“I know.” The police will never find him.
“I want to talk to you about it,” she whispers. “I want honesty. I can’t bear it if you hide things from me.” Her voice breaks toward the end. She’s in so much pain, and my heart aches for her. I start to rub the spot over my heart at the unfamiliar sensation.
“Okay,” I say finally.
“Can we go home?”
“Of course.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight