Page 112 of The Saint (Gentlemen Rogues 3)
The hell I would relax. I tried opening my eyes and found myself surrounded by bright white light. Everything was white. I shut my eyes immediately and tried again more slowly. As my eyes adjusted, I saw that I was in some kind of a hospital room. Slowly, realization dawned. I'd been fighting. Was I hurt?
I frowned again as I remembered. Saint had come for me. He'd come to help. I'd been on my way to warn Gemma that Andrew had opened his goddamn big mouth, and then, James… Oh God, James and Ryan… and Saint.
Something else pricked at my memory, but I couldn't put my finger on it. It was evading me now as I worried about Saint. Was he here too?
I glanced around and saw I was in possibly the most pristine hospital I'd ever seen. All white everywhere. The beds were lower and… What the hell was that?
A man turned around. He was familiar. Good-looking. Dark hair. Jawline that might have belonged on a male model. Who was he? Why did I know his face?
When he saw that my eyes were open, he smiled. "Hey, there you are. How are you feeling?"
I opened my mouth to talk, to ask him all the questions I had, but nothing came out. Goddamn, I felt like dirt. Like prime, grade A dirt. Why did I feel so bad? I opened my mouth again, my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth, and he immediately came over with water. "I'm sorry about that, I was just filling the pitcher when you started to stir."
He handed me a glass, and I glanced at it dubiously, but I needed it.
I took several long gulps, the cool water quenching the fire in my throat. "James, Ryan, Saint… Are they okay?"
He blinked at me rapidly. "Um, yes. James is just fast asleep now in surgery, but he will be fine. Ryan just got a slight concussion. He'll be good too. And Saint, well… Saint is very hard to kill."
He said that with a smirk. As if it was funny. Why was it funny? Why was he joking about people dying? Again, something pulled in my memory banks and I couldn't quite remember what it was?
"Where is Saint?"
"Um, he had to do something. Brief someone. He'll be back though. I'm his best mate. He asked me to look out for you. We've met once. You probably don't remember."
"Where did we meet?"
He laughed. "I see I need to make a better impression.”
Then I remembered where I met him. At the auction, when I'd been running, he'd been right there like a brick wall.
"The auction."
"Ah, your memory is returning."
That it was, because in the same second I remember him, I remembered something else. Saint had come for me, but then what had happened?
"Listen, take it easy. I know you want to get up and run around, but you took a couple of hits. You've got some bruising. Certainly a bruised rib."
I frowned at that and groaned when I tried to sit up. "Ow."
"Didn't I just say you had a bruised rib?"
I scowled at him. "You have a shitty bedside manner."
"Yeah, that's what my wife says too."
I realized I knew him from somewhere else too. The engagement party. He'd been on the fringes of the party. But I remembered something else. His wife-to-be, Saffron. "Your fiancée, I know her."
He smiled then. "She attended your engagement announcement."
"Right, and you are Lachlan."
He grinned. "Yes, Lachlan King."
My brow furrowed. "The billionaire?"
He laughed. "Yeah. Honestly, I think people throw the word around too easily these days."
