Page 35 of A Forbidden Arrangement
“Take these now and another two every six hours. You need to stay ahead of the pain.” He hands me two pills, then goes to set the bottle on my nightstand.
“Give them to me,” Xander commands.
The doctor tosses them back as if already expecting it. “Rest. Hydration, and don’t forget to keep eating.” His tone is brisk, like he’s talking to a chart instead of me. “Change the bandage daily.”
He finally looks at me. Just a flick of the eyes, pity written in it before he looks away again. It hits harder than the tug of the bandage. He knows. He won’t say it, won’t help, but he knows.
“Will you be back?” My voice is sharper than I mean, chasing that look.
He hesitates, shoulders stiff.
“I’ll handle it from now on.” Xander’s voice cuts from the hall. Calm. Final.
My mouth opens, words ready to fight, but the doctor’s already snapping his bag closed, eager to be gone. “Call me if there are any changes.” He doesn’t look back as he slips out, careful not to get too close to Xander.
The silence sits heavily after the door shuts, the doctor’s shoes scuffing as he hurries down the hall.
“You scared him half to death.” The words slip out before I can stop them.
His answer is low, steady. “You say that like it wasn’t intentional.”
I drag the blanket tighter around me until it’s bunched at my throat. The soup on the nightstand has gone cold, but the pounding in my skull is lighter, the bandage snug instead of pulling.
I don’t feel safe again until Xander’s gone.
Chapter 17
Dahlia
Minutes bleed into hours.I keep waiting for the door to rattle, for Xander’s shadow to break across the floor, for him to remind me that I don’t actually get a choice in when I see him. The way he looked at me before he left said enough. A warning to behave. A promise that he’ll come back.
Every creak in the hall has my head snapping up, eyes fixed on the chair braced under the knob. Useless—if Xander wanted in, the flimsy wood wouldn’t stop him.
The housekeeper came earlier, carrying another tray, her face lined with disapproval likeIwas somehow the unreasonable one. She fussed with the bandage, shook her head at me, clicked her tongue. She looked at me with sympathy, but her loyalty to him was clear.
I’m on my own. The thought crawls under my skin.
Just because he stayed away tonight doesn’t mean I’m safe here. Xander’s used to getting what he wants and has already proven just how little he cares about my choices.
The idea of him walking in one night, deciding he’s done waiting, has every nerve in my body on edge.
It’s hard to reconcile the man who’d made me feel more pleasure than anyone else with who he really is. God, theway he looked at me like I was something rare, something worth worshipping, left me drunk on it. For one night, I felt untouchable. Like I could have anything. Like I deservedeverything.
The memory leaves a dull ache blooming in my chest. I should’ve known better. I grind my teeth, eyes pressed shut. Bradley’s voice slips in.Naive. Useless. Couldn’t do a thing without him holding my hand.
I hate that he’s right. Look at me now. Locked up with a monster.
Shame burns my eyes, and I blink back tears. I take several breaths, pushing down the anxiety trying to take over, and remind myself that I’m not helpless. I successfully ran, started a new life. I just need to do it again, and this time, I’ll make sure no one can find me.
The blanket slides off my shoulders as I sit up, and goose bumps rise along my arms. The draft sifting through the window drops the temperature, and even the wood under my feet is cold. I pull the soft fabric around me, knotting it in my fists as I cross to the door.
I press my ear against it, straining to listen. Nothing. No shuffle of shoes, no heavy breaths, no low voice waiting for me.
My throat grows dry, and I swallow a few times. If I want to escape, I can’t stay hiding in this box.
My hand finds the back of the chair wedged under the knob, and I ease it free. The legs scrape, the sound sharp in the silence. I stop, heart pounding, holding still long enough to count five beats and let it out slowly when there’s no response.
I set the chair aside and curl my fingers around the knob, my knuckles turning white as I twist and the latch clicks. Pausing, I take my time. Shadows stretch along the walls, sconces dimmed low, casting the space in warm light.
