It’s late when I hear voices down the hall.
I get out of bed and look blearily at the clock. A little past midnight. I bundle myself in a sweater and a pair of sweatpants and sneak out of my room. The voices are coming from downstairs. I linger at the top of the steps and listen briefly.
I recognize Tigran’s voice. “…wearing this awful caterer’s outfit and he thinks this stupid surgical mask is going to hide his identity. You know, like when Superman puts on a suit and glasses and suddenly nobody knows who he is?”
“That’s the patron. Superman all the way.” I don’t know this voice.
Tigran again: “I told him it was idiotic, but Arsen always does whatever he wants. So anyway, he storms off and gets in trouble like usual. I’m sitting at the bar minding my own business and getting a little drunk when he shows up again. And get this. The dumb asshole is bleeding.” Tigran’s laughing now and my blood runs cold. Arsen’s hurt? What the hell? “Yeah, seriously, turns out the crazy old bitch tried to stab him to death! Can you imagine? Old Aunt Sona jabbing away?”
My heart goes crazy. Fear spikes into me. I hurry down the stairs before I’m smart enough to stop myself. “Is Arsen okay?” I blurt out once Tigran comes into view. He’s in the main entry hall talking to an older man I’ve never seen before. Both of them stare at me like I’m a ghost that just appeared from the walls.
“Uh, shit, did you hear that?” Tigran asks.
“Just tell me if he’s okay.”
“He’s fine.” He looks a little ashamed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been joking about it.” Then he grins slightly. “But your husband got stabbed by a sixty-year-old woman. It’s kind of funny.”
“Tigran, you prick,” the other man says softly, shaking his head.
“Where is he?”
“The doctor’s with him.”
“Tigran, where the fuck is my husband?”
He looks surprised at my ferocity. Honestly, I’m surprised by it too. What do I care if Arsen’s hurt? But there’s a burning need to see him driving me right now.
“Back office. But he said—”
I storm past the two men. I don’t care that Tigran’s making jokes. He can say whatever he wants. I’m just suddenly taken over by the intense need to find Arsen and make sure he’s okay with my own eyes.
Maud’s in the kitchen. She tells me to wait, but I don’t. I breeze past, determined. Nobody’s keeping me from him right now. There are two men standing guard at the door, and both of them look uncomfortable when I tell them to move.
“Boss said nobody enters.”
“Your boss has to sleep in my fucking bed,” I snarl in his face. Where’d this girl come from? I like her. “You think he’s gonna be happy you made sure his life is hell for the next week?”
The guards exchange a look then step aside. “This is on you,” one mumbles as I shove my way into the office.
Arsen’s sitting in an easy chair. A fit-looking, middle-aged man is kneeling in front of him in rubber gloves and a black shirt. Arsen’s topless, and the man’s stitching closed a nasty-looking wound on his shoulder.
“Oh, God,” I say, my hands coming to my mouth.
Arsen looks at me. Even beat up and in this state, he looks gorgeous. My heart flutters from both fear and excitement. He curses softly and tries to stand, but the doctor doesn’t let him. “Stay still. I’m almost done.”
“Lena, I thought you were asleep.”
“Are you okay?” I run to his side and touch his face. The doctor frowns at me but keeps going, stitching with practiced hands, shaking his head. “Oh, shit, I heard Tigran talking, and I was terrified.”
Arsen takes my hands in his. “I’ll speak with my idiot brother later. I’m going to be fine.”
“Nothing time and antibiotics won’t fix,” the doctor says. He pulls back, ties a knot, cuts it, and puts away his tools. “All done. You’re an easy patient, Arsen.”
“You mean I’m your best customer.”
“Believe it or not, I don’t love repeat business. If I never see you again, I’ll be happy.” The doctor stands with a sigh and shoulders his bag. “Take the prescription I send over and don’t do anything for at least a day. I’d say a week, but I know that won’t happen.”
“It was a pleasure, doc.”
When we’re alone, I climb into Arsen’s lap and curl myself into him. I need to be close to him right now. I press my head against his chest to listen to the steady beat of his heart. He sighs and holds me tightly, and we stay like that on the easy chair. I’m afraid I’m crushing him, but I can’t help myself. I need to feel his breath and his warmth. I need to make sure he’s okay.
“I’ve been stabbed before,” he says, gently brushing my hair aside. He leans down to kiss me. “I’ll probably get stabbed again.”
“This might be routine for you, but for me it’s kind of a big deal. What happened?” I lean up and kiss his jaw. I do it softly, worried I might hurt him. I don’t know why I’m being so tender and why I care so much right now, but those few seconds between hearing Tigran callously talk about Arsen getting injured and actually seeing that my husband’s going to be fine were like running through hell.
He tells me the story. I don’t know if he leaves anything out, but it more or less matches what Tigran mentioned. “I thought Aunt Sona could be reasoned with.”
“Guess you were wrong.”
He grunts and stretches his arm. “Things are going to get ugly from here, baby. I might be working a lot.”
“Are you crazy? You’re hurt.”
“I don’t have the luxury of time.” He breathes in my smell and nuzzles against my neck. “Fuck, I like that you’re here. I love how worried you are.”
“You like that?” I push him back and he flinches. “Don’t be an asshole.”
“I’m just saying, I thought you hated me.”
“That hasn’t changed.”
“I don’t know.” He looks amused. “You seem like you care.”
I extract myself from his lap. He’s right, and that bothers me for some reason. I don’t like how quickly I went running to him and how scared I felt. Now that it’s clear he’s not going to die or lose a limb or something, it’s like I’m sobering up.
Arsen’s a dangerous man with a violent job. I don’t know if I can spend my life wondering whether he’s alive or dead every time he leaves the house. I’m not sure if I can handle that level of stress.
“You’re the father of my child. I was just afraid I was going to be a single mom.”
“You’ll be taken care of no matter what, baby, don’t worry. I already set my will.”
“Are you serious?”
“Everything will be yours if I end up dead.” His smile is haunted and sad. He raises a glass of something brown to me as if in a toast. “I have enough that you’ll never have to worry. So cheer up. I’m worth more to you in the ground than I am sitting right here.”
I take a deep breath through my nose. Anger flares in my chest. This fucking maudlin little bastard. “Come on. Stop drinking. You need to start healing.”
His eyebrows raise. “Sorry? What now?”
“Put the alcohol down. You’re coming to bed.”
“I have people I need to speak with.”
“You can deal with them in the morning.” I take his hand and tug. “On your feet, patron.”
He licks his lips and climbs up. When I try to pull him behind me, he yanks me back against him. One hand palms my ass and squeezes. “I am not your patron. I’m your husband. Do you understand?”
My heart flutters. “Whatever you say, so long as you come to bed and stop whining.”
“I don’t whine.”
“All I hear is a high-pitched moan coming from your face.”
“God, woman, you never stop.”
“Get in bed and I’ll shut up.”
“You’re right. I know how to fill your mouth when we’re under the sheets together.”
I pat his chest dangerously close to the stitches. “Nothing’s getting into my mouth tonight, big guy. Put a shirt on and let’s go.”
He grumbles, but he doesn’t fight. In the hall, he speaks softly with Tigran and the other man. They both shoot me a look, Tigran with amusement and the other man with curiosity, but they leave with murmured goodnights.
“Who was that with your bother?”
“Uncle Narek. He’s an important member of my family.”
“You should introduce me.”
“You’re right. Next time, I will.” He gives me a curious frown. “Actually, I should introduce you to everyone. You’re my wife now.”
“For better or worse,” I mutter.
He slaps my ass. “I heard that.”
“You were supposed to.”
