Beautiful Beast - Page 104

Wiping my eyes, I keep walking without slowing. Several sets of footfalls trail behind me, along with a distinctive click of Dad’s cane against the tiled floor. I can’t talk to them now. Not before I look upon Rafael and see with my own eyes that he’s okay. Guido can fill them in on what’s happening.

Another long hallway, and then the doctor stops in front of a sturdy-looking door.

“Ma’am, you need to understand that—”

I grab at the knob and step inside the room.

The constant beep of a heart monitor pierces the absolute silence. I put my hand over my mouth, but a pained whimper still manages to escape my lips. The metal door handle digs into my back as I stand rooted to the floor and just stare at Rafael’s unmoving form.

I take a tentative step. Then another. When I finally reach the bed, I’m a crying mess again. Cupping Rafael’s cheek with my hand, I bend so my mouth is just next to his ear.

“I’m going to burn everything,” I choke out. “That pretty house you left me. The hotel. Your cars. There will be nothing left of them.”

I press my lips to his temple.

“Those two yachts you love so much? I’ll scuttle both and watch them sink to the bottom of the sea.” I kiss his eyebrow. “Your private security company? You can forget about it, Rafael. I’m going to destroy it so completely that, in a month, no one will even remember it existed.”

His skin is so cold and clammy. I move my hand to his neck, setting it over the pulse point. The monitor beside the bed is beeping, but I need more tangible proof that he’s alive. Only when I feel the steady beat under my fingers, do I let myself relax a tiny bit.

“The money? I’m going to give it all away. I’ll find some stupid charity, A Better Life for Goats or something equally idiotic, and I’ll transfer all your millions to them. They can use all that wealth to create a fucking Goatland. A paradise where they can groom the goats, bathe them in donkey milk, and give the animals neck massages all day long.”

Why isn’t he waking up? I continue peppering his face with kisses, feeling the ridges and valleys of the multitude of scars under my lips. Most of the time, I forget they’re even there. I don’t see the stretch of badly stitched flesh that healed askew and twists his cheek. Or the one pulling his upper lip, making it misshapen. Or those on his chin that fades into the short stubble across his jaw. I just see him.

Rafael.

Knowing that, because of these scars, he believed he needed to buy my love with jewelry and other presents makes me incredibly angry. And completely devastates me. He got these scars by saving me. And he never intended to reveal that truth.

His face is an expressionless mask, but his lips are slightly parted. I pull his lower one between my teeth and nip.

“I swear, Rafael. If you don’t come back to me, I’ll make it my life’s mission to destroy your whole empire,” I whisper into his mouth.

He doesn’t stir. Not even a little. There are no sounds other than my sniffing and the rhythmic beeps of the heart rate machine. I press my cheek to his and bury my nose into his neck.

“Please,” I choke out, inhaling his scent. “I love you, so much.”

Even with all the hospital scents all around, he still smells the same. Like cypress and orange. Briny air and the sea. Leashed danger, but my undeniable safety. Like home.

I can’t lose him.

A light touch lands on the back of my head, and then a raspy breath just next to my ear. “You forgot . . . the jet.”

A relieved cry makes it past my lips. I squeeze my eyes shut and nuzzle my face deeper into his neck. My throat feels completely raw, and, even with my lids closed, tears still run down my cheeks.

“I haven’t.” I can barely form the words. “I’ll use it to send the goats on an annual vacation somewhere in the Caribbean.”

His fingers tunnel through my hair, petting me soothingly. “You came back.”

“Of course I came back.”

“You weren’t on the plane. The pilot called me. Said you didn’t come.”

Slowly, I lift my head and take him in. His skin is still ghastly pale, and there are dark circles under his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I was preoccupied with trying to find a way to stop the assassin my dad sent to kill you, and I missed it.” I stroke his cheek. “I’m afraid your father-in-law isn’t your biggest fan.”

“So, Guido told you?”

“That you got me wasted and then got us married, leaving me none the wiser?” I press my lips to his. “Yeah, he told me.”