Page 19 of Kinks of a Billionaire
Once in the corridor, I dropped my hands to my knees and took a few deep breaths. Contemplating the best way to commit murder was the only thing keeping my feet grounded. I needed a name—although I suspected it—and then all bets would be off.
If I had to go to prison, so be it, but Stuart fucking Harris would never lay eyes on Willow again. As I scrubbed a hand down my face, my mind churned, exploring my options. When it came to keeping the people in my life safe, I knew I could be illogical, but my sense of responsibility for Willow was hitting harder than ever before.
Just as I was about to pull out my phone and call my brother, the door to my bedroom opened and Dr. Rodrigues’s headful of white hair appeared.
“She’s resting,” he declared before I had a chance to say anything. “She’ll need to take it easy for at least a week.”
“Are you prescribing any medications?” I asked.
“I’ve left all necessary information with Ms. Auclair.”
I eyed him suspiciously. “And she wasn’t sexually assaulted?”
“She was not,” he confirmed, then he hitched the strap of his satchel up his shoulder and disappeared in the direction of my front door.
With Dr. Rodrigues gone, I went back into my bedroom, where my gaze fixated on her sleeping form, her skin already developing into shades of black. While her injuries would heal, it still sat fucking wrong with me that she was hurt. Nobody should have ever laid a finger on her—fucking ever.
I supposed a part of me knew, deep down, that my concern for her safety had originated that night all those years ago. When she’d shared with me what her vile ex-boyfriend had done, and the vulnerability I’d seen in her as the night went on. When she’d surprised me by planting that kiss, I chalked it up to her being in a heightened emotional state. But I still remembered how soft her lips were, how she tasted, and the way her tongue tangled with mine—regardless of whether she knew the full extent she had on me, that kiss had sealed it. I vowed from then on to look out for her.
For the next three hours, I paced my bedroom, working out a plan. I called my brother-in-law, Alexei, who in turn called in a few favors, which was the only reason I was now watching footage from earlier in the night. My own surveillance gave me access to CCTV from the common areas of Willow’s hotel, but she hadn’t taken the elevator when she fled, and the camera near the exit she took wasn’t working. Alexei pulled strings and had footage from nine different angles sent over within the hour.
Stuart must have been the one to hurt her. He was known for his temper, and if the assault had been random, she wouldn’t have run out of the hotel like the devil was on her heels. She would have sought help.
I watched her move through the streets on unsteady feet, her face wet with tears and blood. I followed her movements until a man noticed Willow’s concerning state. He stopped her and they exchanged a few words, then he hurried her into a cab. He looked vaguely familiar, and it wasn’t until I saw him place his card in her hand that the puzzle fell into place.Kian Cortes.
He was the Brazilian who’d started a security company and had connections to the Cortes cartel. I watched as Kian stood with his arms crossed over his chest as the cab that eventually brought her here sped away.
A moan ripped from Willow’s lips, and I homed in on her form. She shifted in her sleep, then opened her beautiful eyes, blinking once… twice.
“Royce,” she whispered, then winced, probably due to the cut on her bottom lip, which shot another dose of rage through me.
“Morning, baby,” I said softly, leaning over her to brush a loose strand of hair from her face. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been run over by a freight train.”
“I…” She blinked again, then averted her eyes, suddenly very interested in her surroundings. I sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned over her, taking her chin gently between my fingers. “You came to me for help, bruised and beaten.” She opened her swollen lips, then closed them without saying a word. “Let me help you.” She sucked in a breath, looking pained as her eyes misted over. “Baby, don’t you trust me?”
“I… do. I’m just so…” She attempted to sit up, shuddered, then slumped her shoulders in defeat. “Embarrassed.”
I cupped her face with firm yet gentle hands. The thought of hurting her made me want to sink onto the floor and let the earth swallow me whole. Willow was already a fragile woman, her delicate bones more suited for a ballerina than a fighter, although her inner strength always stared back.
“You have no reason to be.” She released a soft sound, lifting her gaze and zeroing in on a spot above my head. She stared at nothing, her stubbornness shining through. “Now, sweetheart, you better tell me who the fuck hurt you or I swear I’m going to lose my goddamned mind.”
“You really have a way with words,” she croaked, her lips trembling.
“Who did this?” I growled, causing her to flinch, and I immediately forced myself to take a deep breath. I wouldn’t—couldn’t—scare her. She came to me for help.
This time, she reached out her hands and cupped my face. Her eyes found mine and she shook her head. “Royce, please?—”
“The name,” I gritted, cutting her off. My mouth tightened, anger shooting through my veins as I waited for her to confirm what I knew in my gut.
She touched my cheek, her hand cool against my simmering fury. “Please don’t worry about it. I’m fine now.”
I softened my eyes, urging her to see how close I was to losing it. “Don’t you trust me?”
A shuddering breath left her. “I do, but I’m… I don’t want to—” She hiccupped. “I can’t talk about it.”
“I need the name, Willow,” I begged, my resolve shaking. I wanted to hear her say it. “If you trust me, you’ll give me the name.”
