Page 28 of Bratva's Mercy
If I ever kissed Leo Cavanagh, it wouldn’t be stolen while he was unconscious and vulnerable. I wanted him awake. Aware. Choosing it. Even if that choice seemed about as likely as his husband coming back to life.
I settled for a kiss pressed lightly to his forehead.
“What are you doing to me?” I muttered quietly. “If I’d killed you when Maxim wanted me to, I wouldn’t be losing my goddamn mind like this.”
I’d never been this soft with anyone. I didn’t have the patience for it. People weren’t inherently good. They lied. They cheated. They betrayed. And I was too jaded to allow someone to hurt me and walk away still breathing.
With a sigh, I straightened and shook his shoulders gently. “Leo.”
He groaned immediately, burying his face deeper into the pillow.
“Leo,” I said again. “Wake up. I need to check up on you.”
His eyes cracked open a sliver. “Why are you in my bedroom?” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep. “Didn’t we already establish that this is deeply disturbing behavior? Even worse than you stalking me.”
“Medical check.”
He squinted at me. “What time is it?”
“Some minutes after four.” I took up one end of the sheet and pulled it up to cover him because his bare stomach was distracting. He was all lean, and I liked it a little too much.
“You don’t have to stay anymore.”
I ignored that. “What’s your name?”
“Leonardo Cavanagh,” he said, frowning. “I’m forty-five and work as a doctor. See? I’m perfectly fine. Now, will you please go?”
“Do you recall what happened?” I asked.
“Car accident.”
“Now what’s your favorite food?”
Leo’s eyes narrowed. “That,” he said slowly, “is not one of the questions you’re supposed to ask me.”
“Humor me.”
He stared at me for a long moment, as if deciding whether to ignore the question or to lie.
“Italian,” he muttered finally.
I nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll remember that.”
Leo pushed himself up slightly against the pillows, rubbing his face. “Can you get out of my house now?”
“No.”
“Of course not. Why the hell would you do anything Isay?” He dropped his head back so it banged lightly against the headboard.
“Will you stop that?” I placed a knee on the bed and reached up to feel the area at the back of his head where he’d just banged it. “You already have a concussion, or are you deliberately doing that because you want me to stay longer? All you have to do is ask.”
“Let’s get something straight, Sergei: I willneverwant you here.”
I shouldn’t let his words bother me, but they did. With every interaction, he twisted the knife in my stomach a little deeper. Would he not be satisfied until he’d bled me dry? Would he only forgive me then?
After everything I’d done for him tonight, couldn’t he hate me a little less?
“I’m staying until you’re feeling better.”
