“I don’t have to look at it to know, that yeah, based on the amount of blood, you need stitches. There’s a minor emergency a few blocks over. Let’s go there now.”
“No, I—”
He pulls me to my feet, causing a dizzying rush that’s momentarily blinding. “You’re gushing blood,” he insists. “I don’t know why you’re standing here right now when you need to get medical attention.” He snakes his key from his pocket. “I’m in the delivery zone. I saw you walking and pulled over to catch you. Just come with me. I’ll get you where you need to go.”
“Alexander, no, I—”
“You need a doctor,” he insists. “My help comes with no obligation, Aria. Contrary to anything Kace August has told you, I’m not that kind of an asshole.”
“I don’t have it in me right now for whatever war you’re fighting with Kace.”
His lips press together. “Let me help you,” he prods softly. He dangles his keys. “Let’s go get you fixed up.”
He says this help comes with no agenda, but we both know it does. I don’t want to go with him, but my head spins and my towel is drenched. Logic and good sense must prevail—thus I say, “Yes. Thank you.”
His broad shoulders beneath his ridiculously expensive suit relax slightly. “This way.” He steps to the side to allow my progress forward, his hand settling at my back. I’m aware of his hand but not because I’m aware of him. It’s the opposite. I’m aware of how little he affects me, and of how intensely Kace affects me. Our connection felt real but I’m not sure if that matters or tells me anything at all. I’m not sure anything will until later when I’m alone.
Alexander opens the passenger door, and I slide into his fancy Porsche, a beast, as Kace would call it. Actually, the car, and its description by Kace, is appropriate, considering Alexander is a bit of a beast himself. He’s all force to Kace’s sweet seduction, but that’s the thing about seduction, it isn’t always so sweet at all.
I’m struggling with my seat belt when Alexander settles into the driver’s seat and comes to my aid, catching it and helping me seal it into place. Our hands touch and while there is nothing electric about the connection, I feel an awareness, his wholly male awareness. I yank my hand back and why do I feel like I’m betraying Kace? We are not a couple. Not anymore. I’m not sure anything between us was real, except my intense reactions to him. That was real. That was consuming.
My phone buzzes with a message and I ignore it. Alexander cranks the car. “Need to get that?”
I rest my head back on the leather cushion and shut my eyes. “No.”
“How’d you cut your hand?” Alexander asks.
My lashes lift but I don’t look at him. “A wooden drawer,” I say, and my gaze shifts to the window. Only then do I realize that he’s already pulled away from the curb. Actually, we’re not even on my street anymore.
“That doesn’t seem like a sharp object,” he comments.
“A chunk of wood was sticking out,” I say, my lashes lowering again. “Maybe there was steel or a nail, too. I just don’t know.”
“And you were alone with this wooden drawer?”
I jerk my head up and look at him. “Yes.” That’s all I offer and I feel no temptation to expand on my answer. I’m a practiced master of one-word replies. “Where is this minor emergency?” I ask, peeking out of the window.
“Right here,” he says, pulling me to the door of a building with a big red cross on the front. “I told you it was close. You go in and get attention. I’ll park and be right in.”
“You don’t need to come in, Alexander,” I say quickly. “I appreciate the help, but I really am fine.”
“I’d be a total asshole to leave you here alone. In fact, in the dictionary next to the word ‘asshole’ would be my name. I’m not leaving you alone. Now go before you lose any more blood. I’ll be right there.”
I could argue over him staying, but he’s right, I’m growing concerned about how much blood is on the towel. I reach for my belt and I can’t get it unhooked. He quickly comes to my aid once more, unlatching it before he orders, “Stay where you are.” He shifts the car into park. “I’ll come and get your door.” He unhooks his own belt and opens his door. I reach for mine with my good hand and quickly shove it open.
I’m on my feet, the piercing cold weathering my cheeks by the time he reaches my side of the car, but my head spins and I sway. I reach for support and end up grabbing Alexander, but there is nothing romantic about this moment. “Oh God,” I murmur, as my stomach rolls. “I feel sick.”
“Because you’ve lost blood.” He wraps his arm around me and I don’t have the strength to push him away as he adds, “Come on. I’ll get you inside.”
“I’m fine. Your car. You need to—”
“It’s fine,” he says, and he’s hauling me forward, the spice of his cologne permeating my nostrils, but it’s pungent, it’s too much. I think that’s my problem with Alexander. He’s too much. He’s that beast, and yet he is being so kind that I wonder why I feel these things about him.
Double glass doors open and we head inside a typical doctor’s office with white floors, vacant steel armed chairs, and a built-in reception desk. The fifty-something woman with spiky blonde hair behind the counter is focused on me and her eyes go wide.
“Oh my,” she says, before she calls out, “Ellen!”
Ellen or I assume it’s Ellen, rushes out to the lobby, and says, “Oh my,” as well.
Ellen is wearing pink scrubs, her curling brown hair wild around her heart-shaped face. She’s tiny but there’s something fierce about her that I find appealing. The next five minutes are a whirlwind but the paperwork is discussed, and Ellen is the one with her arm around me now, and it’s remarkably more comfortable despite both our petite sizes. “Do you want your guest to come back with you?” she asks.
“No,” I say, twisting around to face Alexander. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Thank you so much.”
His jaw sets stubbornly. “I’ll wait.” He motions to the chairs. “I’ll move my car and then I’ll sit. I’ll be right here.”
My cellphone buzzes with a call, and of course, I know, without looking, that it’s Kace—almost as if he’s chosen this moment purposely to insinuate himself between me and Alexander. But then, that’s not difficult when he’s the reason I’m all but destroyed right now.
I turn away from Alexander, and it’s not long before I’m sitting in a room with a doctor, a man I guess to be in his thirties, sporting a shaved head and a pleasant bedside manner. “You’re lucky,” he says after pulling a piece of wood from my hand and covering my hand with a bandage to apply pressure. “You were close to a nerve. The wood was allowing the bleed to continue. And you almost took the palm of your hand off. We’re going to stitch you up, get you a tetanus shot and some pain meds, and get you home.”