Page 102 of Dance of Defiance
Yes.
Was thatbecause of a certain fucking man being permanently in my brain and refusing to eject himself?
Maybe. Probably.
Definitely.
What a fucking asshole.
Milena, Naomi, Dove, Miguel, James, Brooklyn, even Kir—Brooklyn's psycho-hot way older boyfriend who runs the Nikolayev Bratva and also happens to own the Zakharova and the Mercury Theater are all here. Kir and Brooklyn got here first, and even though my friends are all seriously concerned about me, it’shimwho insisted on throwing his weight around as—apparently—a major donor to the hospital to get me moved to the VIP floor. He’s also got his own personal doctor checking me out and has already informed me that he’s flying his go-to neurological surgeon in from London to examine me…a Dr. Crowley, who's apparently world-renowned.
Fucking friends in high places, right?
Annoyingly, my own fucking brother is not here. He did send me a couple of texts telling me he’s glad I’m okay, though.
I swear, that fucking guy…
On the one hand, it’s amazing to have a brother I never knew existed. On the other…it’d be fucking nice if heactedlike one.
Everyone’s fawning over me, making sure I’m feeling okay and that the pillows are fluffy enough—spoiler: they are. The VIP floor of the hospital isveryfucking nice, thank you very much Kir.
But even as they all fuss over me, I pick up my cracked phone and tap on a certain contact.
My brow darkens when I re-read the last texts from Roman, including that outrageously hot,clearlyalcohol-fueled pic of him in a hot tub looking like a goddamn snack.
I still haven’t texted him back. Not this time. Snack or not, just…no.
I don’t have time or space in my life for him or his shit. He can stay the fuck out of my life from now on.
“VAL!”
The door flies open and Evie comes streaking into the room like a pink bat out of hell.
“Am I allowed to hug you?!”
I grin as I open my arms. “Hell yeah, Eves. I’d love one.”
I wince when she wraps her arms around me and squeezesa littletoo tight for my ribs’ liking. But I hug her back anyway, a smile melting over my face.
…Until I look past her shoulder and see who’s lurking in the doorway, lookingwaytoo fucking good. He’s dressed like he just came from a nice dinner, leaning against the door frame, rubbing a bulging bicep with the opposite hand.
“I…I uh, drove her,” he grunts in answer to the question I didn’t ask.
He’shere.
And goddammit…
I don’t hate it.
At all.
Evie joins the chorus of people making sure I have plenty of ice chips to suck on, or enough pain meds.
Spoiler: I’m fuckinggreatfor pain meds right now.
But even as they all stay crowded around my bed, fretting and worrying, my gaze drifts past them, tohim.
He doesn’t say anything to me, and I don’t say anything to him. Not out loud.
