Page 37 of Her Beastly Billionaire Rock Star
Before he could return to his seat, a nurse walked into the waiting room and called his name. As he approached her, he smiled. “Hi. Is Charlotte okay?”
The woman nodded. “She’s going to be. Come with me, and I’ll take you to her room.”
When they reached the elevator, she hit the third-floor button. When the doors closed, Malakai leaned back against the wall. “Can you tell me anything yet?”
“Yes, Ms. Gooding’s employer called and permitted us to share her condition. She’s got a concussion and is still unconscious, and her right arm is broken. Right now, she’s resting and will need to stay a few days for observation.”
Covering his mouth with his hand, his shoulders rounded as his gaze lowered to the floor. “Okay.” It was about all he could manage with the size of the lump in his throat. She’d been hurt because of him. Octavia was right. Why hadn’t he checked the front of the building first? It wouldn’t have taken but a second. Maybe she wouldn’t have been hurt.
A hand on his arm pulled him from his thoughts, and he looked up. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“This is our floor.”
He fell in behind the nurse and quickly followed her to Charlotte’s room. Hearing about her injuries broke his heart, but as she came into view, he sucked in a sharp breath. Seeing her tiny frame with her arm in a cast and her head bandaged was a gut punch.
“As I said, she’ll need to take it easy once she’s released,” the nurse said as she turned to him.
He caught her gaze. “If she needs anything, and I mean anything, I’ll take care of it. I don’t care what it costs or what I have to do to make it happen, I will.”
She nodded. “I’ll let the appropriate people know. If you need anything, just use the call button.”
Malakai touched her arm as she turned to leave. “Thank you.”
“Sure.”
As the door clicked shut, he strode to Charlotte’s bed and raked his gaze from the top of her head to her toes. Bracing his hand on the bed railing, he leaned down and touched his lips to her forehead. “I’m so sorry I let you down.”
He lowered the railing, sat beside her, and pulled out his phone, texting Emilia to let her know about Charlotte’s condition before slipping it back into his pocket.
How could the evening go so wrong? He’d planned to take Charlotte to dinner. She’d been so upset about her dad’s car being at the auction. All he wanted was to cheer her up. He’d also bid on the car. During their jaunt around to the different tables, he’d passed one of the charity planners a note saying he wanted that car. He didn’t care if he had to liquidate everything he owned; he was getting that car.
Maybe he’d know the results by the time she woke up and he could surprise her when they got home. Hopefully, that would help her spirits at least. Brushing the back of his hand along her cheek, he felt as helpless now as he had when Sunny died in his arms.
Why did it seem like everyone he cared about got hurt? And each time it was because of him. He should have known Sunny would try to take the wheel. He should have known the paparazzi would be waiting for him and Charlotte.
When was he ever going to learn that he needed to stay away from people? Especially the people he cared about…had fallen for. For her benefit, as soon as she was better, he needed to put some distance between them. Any thoughts aboutwhat-ifneeded to die. She was better off without him.
Chapter 17
Charlotte desperately wanted to open her eyes and, at the same time, drift as deeply asleep as she could to get rid of the headache throbbing in the back of her head. She shifted on the bed and groaned as the skin on her right hand pressed against something hard. It didn’t take a lot of brainpower to guess she was wearing a cast.
“Charlotte?”
Malakai. She could manage a massive headache if he there. Peeling open her eyes, her vision slowly cleared, and his face came into focus. “Hi.” The lights were dim, and it was dark outside from what little she could see out the window.
“Hi,” he whispered. “The polite gentleman in me is wanting to ask how you’re feeling, but I don’t think I need to ask.”
“Could I have some water?”
She didn’t have to ask twice. He was holding a straw to her lips before she got the last word out. Water had never tasted better or been colder. It felt wonderful going down. “Thank you.”
Now that she’d had a second to wake up, she noticed his rumpled clothing, the weariness in his eyes, and the scruff lining his jaw. “Going for the bearded look?”
He shook his head. “I’ll shave when we go home.”
Tilting her head, she winced. “How long have I been here?”
“About four hours now. It’s near midnight.”
