“My own private island.”
“You’ve come a long way from your poor college days.”
“I’m not as helpless as you think.”
“Helpless is not what I think. I consider you bad for Lizochka.”
I almost growl at the way he calls her Lizochka. It feels too damn intimate.
“Keep her safe or I’ll gut you.”
From almost any other man, the threat would sound brash and stupid. From Tolyan, it’s a promise.
“You aren’t going to tag along?”
“Do you want me to?”
“Hell no.”
He smiles, but his eyes remain cold. “Then shut your trap and be grateful.”
Chapter Ten
Elizabeth
Dr. Raydor reluctantly discharges me the next day. I think he’d prefer that I stay under his care until he’s confident I’ve fully recovered. But the stern frown on Dominic’s face can be quite intimidating—a deity losing patience with the babbling protests of a two-year-old over his sippy cup.
Those two talk while I get dressed. Dominic brought me my suitcases, full of pretty clothes and shoes. I’m sick of the pale blue and white of the hospital gown, so I put on a hot-pink dress and nude beach sandals and immediately feel a hundred times better. It’s amazing how a little bit of normalcy can improve your outlook.
When I step out of my room, Dominic’s scowling at the poor doctor. I place a hand on Dominic’s forearm with a smile in a small, placating gesture. Babysitting me while I recover wasn’t what he signed up for. He’s a busy man, and he’s already spent eight days on St. Cecilia.
“Sorry I’m pulling you away from important work,” I say as he takes me to the airport.
His friend, Antoine, who’s driving the Jeep, snorts. He hasn’t spoken much, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t eloquent. If disapproval were green, he’d be the envy of leprechauns on St. Patrick’s Day.
After shooting a quelling look at the back of Antoine’s head, Dominic turns to me. “What makes you think it’s important?”
“You’re obviously a man of means. You paid the hospital bill without blinking, and you put me in a private room the entire time, rather than have me share one with other patients. I don’t think you’re some idle rich guy who inherited your money. I wouldn’t have fallen for someone like that, would I?”
“No,” Dominic says. “But my work isn’t as important as you, Eli—Liza.”
Antoine coughs hard into a fist.
“Do you need me to slap your back, buddy?” Dominic asks. “Maybe som
eone to pour some water down your throat?”
I bump my shoulder against Dominic’s. He doesn’t have to be hostile to his friend. And there’s no need for them to bicker over anything, especially me. It’s obvious that Antoine doesn’t approve of Dominic taking me to his island. I’m not sure why. I don’t think it’s because he doesn’t like me. He doesn’t know me well enough.
Maybe he doesn’t like the added responsibility of keeping me safe. After all, he called Tolyan, undoubtedly hoping to foist me off on him.
I hope Antoine isn’t coming to the island with us. I make a mental note to avoid him as much as possible for my own peace of mind.
When we reach the only airport on St. Cecilia, a private jet and helicopter are waiting. I start toward the plane, only to have Dominic put a hand on my shoulder. “Not that one. The chopper is easier and more convenient. My island’s close enough to St. Cecilia that we won’t need the plane.”
“I’m being flown home, so I’m taking the jet,” Antoine says, his light British accent making the clipped words sound more censorious. What he finds objectionable about a private jet, I’m not sure.
“How remote is the island?” I ask.