Page 23 of The Bratva's Innocent Forbidden Bride
“Because they were protecting me,” I agreed. “And Papa told me that was part of the job. It’s a great honor to die in service.”
“That’s bullshit.”
I was surprised to hear the fierce Konstantin Fokin admit that. “Yeah, I knew it then, too. But it’s part of the job.”
He stayed silent after that, and I switched out the towel for a fresh one, dropping the sodden one behind me so I couldn’t see it. Not that there wasn’t blood everywhere else. It felt like an hour, but it probably wasn’t twenty minutes before the private surgeon arrived with an assistant, both of them carrying a bunch of equipment to set up a makeshift hospital.
I followed their barked orders, and soon Kon was in his own bed, hooked up to an IV pumping new blood into his vein, his shoulder stitched up and patched. There had been quite a bitof yowling and growling from the room while they dug the bullet out, but Kon had refused anything that would knock him out, insisting he was fine.
“Macho asshole,” I muttered, trying to help hold him down.
He shouted for me to get out, and so now I was relegated to the hall in case I was needed again. The doctor and his nurse emerged, both of them looking slightly irritated at having to deal with such a giant pain in the butt.
“He was right,” the doctor said begrudgingly. “It wasn’t that serious. He’ll be causing you trouble again in no time.”
I wondered who the doctor thought I was to Kon. A girlfriend? An assistant? If I filled him in on my true status as a prisoner, he’d probably escort me back to my bedroom and lock me in himself. Total loyalty was what had got him the job as on-call emergency surgeon to the Fokins, and truckloads of money and the ever-looming threat of a painful death kept him there. He’d jump over the balcony to his demise before ever dreaming of helping me.
“There was so much blood,” I said. “He’s really going to be fine?”
“Right as rain.”
The doctor left, leaving behind his assistant in case anything else went awry, but unless there was even more gunfire, everything was currently okay.
I found myself in the kitchen, making coffee with shaking hands, breathing out a lungful of air that felt like it had been trapped since I woke up to the bloodbath. Why was I so relieved? It would have been a lot easier for me if Kon had dropped dead.
The housekeeper arrived, tutted at the blood smeared everywhere, and began humming as she filled a bucket of sudsy water. Another Tuesday working for the Fokins. I carried my coffee into Kon’s room and pulled up an armchair to his bedside, watching the slow drip of plasma from the bag hanging from the headboard.
“I really would be better off if you were dead,” I whispered, reaching out to move some hair off his brow. I left my palm resting there a moment, assuring myself that he wasn’t spiking a fever before moving it away.
So why was I so relieved that he wasn’t dead?
Because no one else was looking for my father besides Kon. That had to be the reason. Even if his motives weren’t good, he was my best chance at finding Papa.
Chapter 15 - Konstantin
I allowed the doctor to give me a mild painkiller after he dug out the bullet like he had a vendetta against my arm, and it was doing its job enough to let me close my eyes. However, I only pretended to be asleep to see what Tati would do now that everything had calmed down.
I didn’t expect her to act like my life was so important, holding onto the towel even as blood seeped through it to stain her hands and clothes. She hadn’t freaked out at the grisly sight of my gunshot wound, but instead, she flew into action, even barking at the guard to call for help.
Now she was currently dabbing at my forehead with a cool cloth and sighing, and had been sitting by my bedside for the last hour. Never once did her delicate hands wrap around my neck while she thought I was in a vulnerable state. There was a silver letter opener on my desk, not ten feet away, that would have made a very fine stabbing implement, but no. Just gentle touches and soft murmurs that anyone might mistake for caring.
And I had accused her of trying to call for help for herself, even knocking the phone out of her hand. She had gone so far as to try to assuage my guilt over my dead guard, bringing up a memory of her own that had to be painful for her to share.
She tutted and hurried out. I cracked my eyes open to watch her leave. Always a nice view, though, for some reason, I wished she would stay. It must have been the blood loss or the fact I hated getting stitches—and I really hated getting shot—but I was enjoying having her near.
The nurse who’d been left behind came in only a moment later with Tati on her heels. “He feels warmer. Doesn’t he?”
The nurse didn’t lay a caring hand on my forehead, just stuck something in my ear, which let out a low beep. “His temperature is normal; you really have nothing to worry about. It was a simple wound, despite the bullet taking a bit to get out.”
I groaned involuntarily. Yeah, getting that sucker out with no anesthesia had been a bitch. Tati sucked in a breath, and a second later, her cool palm rested on my brow. “Well, if you’re sure,” she said.
“I am,” the nurse told her and left.
But Tati didn’t, resuming her spot in the chair next to my bedside, starting in with the intermittent sighs.
No matter the reason, I was enjoying having her near. Enjoying her soft touches way too much. It could be that I was just glad to have someone, anyone, near. Despite having a huge extended family and five kids, I’d been on my own for a long time.
My children’s mother certainly wouldn’t have been hovering over me in the case of an injury. I hated even thinking of her like that, but couldn’t bring myself to give her the title of wife. The woman I once foolishly thought was the love of my life when I was in my tender teens, Yeli, turned out to be a viper who almost succeeded in taking everything I had.
