I set the cup of water down on the bedside table. “Tell me how you feel first.”
“Like my skull’s been sawed open and filled with broken glass.” He touches the bandage on his head with his uninjured hand, wincing when his fingers brush over his swollen jaw. “Also like I’ve been hit by a car. Is that what happened?”
“Yes.” I take a breath to steady myself. “You pushed me out of the way of that cab and took the full impact yourself. In the process, you broke your arm and split your head open on the pavement. You’re also bruised and scraped all over. The doctors said…” My voice is beginning to shake, my throat closing up, so I drag in another breath. “They said it was a miracle there were no internal injuries or other broken bones, and that they didn’t think you sustained any brain damage, though after the first few hours, they started getting concerned that you weren’t waking up.” I squeeze my eyes shut to contain the tears, but it’s a futile effort. They leak out from under my closed eyelids, and when I open my eyes, I find Marcus gazing at me tenderly.
“What about you, kitten?” Pushing a button to raise the bed to a half-sitting position, he lays a gentle hand on my knee. “Were you hurt? I pushed you pretty hard.”
A half-sob, half-laugh bubbles up my throat. “Yeah, you basically tackled me football-style. Did you play that in college or something?”
“No, just in high school. Freshman year. Afterward, I switched to lacrosse and soccer. I figured all that head-bumping couldn’t be too good for the brain, and I needed every neuron for the future I had planned.” He grins; then worry returns to his eyes. “So were you hurt?”
I shake my head, a watery smile touching my lips. “No, not really. I hit the ground pretty hard, but my back is only a little sprained and bruised. The shock was the worst of it; they kept feeding me sugary liquids in the ambulance so I wouldn’t pass out or throw up again.” My smile fades, and I swallow as my throat swells up again. “They said you might’ve saved my life. With how fast that cab was going and the angle he was coming at me from—” My voice cracks. “And you could’ve also been killed, or gotten severely injured. If you’d hit your head any harder or fallen a different way…” A shudder ripples down my spine. “Never do this to me again, you hear me?” I grip his hand, the remembered fear chilling my insides. “Promise me, Marcus. Promise you’ll never do something this crazy again.”
His jaw flexes. “I can’t. When I saw that car coming at you and realized it wouldn’t be able to stop…” He squeezes his eyes shut, his fingers tightening on mine as he relives what must be a horrible memory. And I know exactly how he feels. I will never get the image of him lying unconscious and bleeding out of my mind, never forget how I felt in those terrifying moments before I felt his pulse and knew he was alive. If I’d lost him, if he’d been killed because of me… God, I can’t even imagine that agony; the mere thought of it is so painful it’s like having my soul ripped apart.
“Marcus…” I wait for him to open his eyes, then ask in a strained voice, “Why didn’t you give your presentation? The man who came running after you said you just left, walked out of there with no explanation to anyone.”
His gaze darkens. “Why do you think? Kitten, about that PI report…” He pulls his hand away and presses the button to sit more upright. “I didn’t do it out of evil intent, I swear.”
I take a breath and slowly let it out. “Why did you do it then?” I’ve been so worried about him I’ve scarcely given those files any thought, but now that I know he’s going to be all right, the pain of betrayal is returning, though it’s nowhere near as sharp as before.
Having faced the specter of losing him—really losing him—I know that no matter what he tells me, I’m not going to walk away.
“Why?” Marcus repossesses my hand, his fingers curling tightly around mine. “Because I wanted you, Emma. Because when you sent me away after that broken-door evening, I couldn’t stop thinking about you, no matter how hard I tried. I worked, I ate, I slept, I exercised, I went out with friends and business colleagues, but all of that was done on autopilot, because the entire time, all I could think about was you. When you texted me, sent me that ‘Hey,’ it was like my world flipped from shades of gray to HD color. But then you said you didn’t mean to text me, implied you were seeing someone else, and I…” His jaw clenches. “Well, I went kind of batshit.”
“Like you did with Ian?” I ask wryly, and he nods, though there’s no trace of answering amusement on his face.
“Like that,” he says grimly. “Only worse, because you weren’t yet mine—and I knew that if I didn’t do something, I may never have known what it would be like if you were.”
“So you, what… commissioned this report?”
“Yes.” His gaze is unwavering. “There’s a PI I use to keep tabs on important executives at the companies we invest in. I’d never had him investigate anyone I dated before, but after that text, I had to know if you were, in fact, seeing someone—and more importantly, what I could do to win you back.” He draws in a breath, then says bluntly, “I needed to know what makes you tick, kitten, and short of outright stalking you,
