Chapter 55: I Let Dracula Take Care of Me, This Is Bad.

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When I first opened my eyes, the softness beneath me was what caught my attention. The second thing was how every part of my body ached.

And then I saw him, Lorenzo...sitting in front of me, a bottle of antiseptic in one hand, looking like he’d decided my battered face was his new project.

I stared at him for a few moments, my brain still struggling to piece together what had just happened and why my cheek felt like it had been through a boxing match.

Then it all came rushing back: the road, the gunfire, cold pavement pressing into my back, the masked man, the knife, and finally, Lorenzo. My stomach churned.

I took a slow look around and realized I was perched on the edge of Lorenzo’s bed. The room was dimly lit, with just a few lamps glowing softly and a hint of light filtering in through the curtains.

Someone had taken off my sweater and shoes, and my sleeves were rolled up to my elbows.

I glanced down at myself. "Did you undress me?"

Lorenzo didn’t even flinch. "No."

"Good." I said, "It wouldn’t have been nice for you if you did."

A hint of a smile crossed his lips. "You’re quite chatty for someone who nearly got stabbed."

"Just coping."

"Sounds more like complaining."

"That’s also my coping mechanism if you must know."

"Noted."

Our eyes locked and there was something oddly reassuring in that moment, even though it was absurd considering I was in the room of the scariest guy I knew, getting my wounds treated after someone had tried to kill me.

But here I was, this was somehow my reality now.

I let out a sigh and leaned back a bit. When Lorenzo reached for my face, I went tense and his hand froze. "Relax."

"I... I am relaxed."

"You look ready to fight me."

"I might consider it."

"You wouldn’t win."

"What makes you think that?" I asked, knowing fully well I could never beat him or anyone else in a fight. I narrowed my eyes. "You’re not great at encouragement."

"That wasn’t my intention."

His fingers finally brushed my cheek, and I inhaled sharply. The bruise was already swelling, an ugly blend of purple and red creeping from beneath my cheekbone toward my jaw.

I was surprised my teeth were still intact after how hard he’d hit me.

Lorenzo examined the injury carefully, turning my face slightly to catch the light.

His hands, I noticed, were steady now. Earlier, when he’d found me on the ground, there had been a tremor.

Just a fleeting moment, barely noticeable to anyone else, but I had caught it. Now, though, his touch was assured.

He worked meticulously, cleaning a small cut near my temple and checking the swelling on my cheek. His approach was almost clinical, which felt a bit strange given how personal this moment was.

He wasn’t rushing or passing me off to someone else. No, he was fully taking charge of this himself. And I was unsure how to feel about that.

No one had ever truly cared for me when I was hurt back at my father’s house. There had been people...servants, doctors, family who sometimes remembered I was around.

But when I got injured, I was expected to deal with it on my own. If I fell, I picked myself up. If I bled, I took care of it.

Crying was only a good way to annoy people, so I learned not to show pain. Clearly, Lorenzo had missed that lesson.

"You need to stop moving," he said.

"I’m perfectly still."

"You moved three times."

"I have an itchy nose."

"Ignore it." He said.

"Easier for you to say."

His thumb brushed gently beneath my eye, and I froze. It felt so tender that it was almost wrong. I looked away.

"Does it still hurt?" He asked softly.

"No."

He shot me a look. I sighed. "Okay, yes."

"How badly?"

"On a scale of one to ten?"

"Yes."

"Seven."

His expression turned serious. "I thought you said you were fine."

"I am fine."

"Seven isn’t fine."

"It is fine for me."

His eyes searched mine, and for a moment, we were silent. Then he went back to cleaning my cut, the air was thick between us, laden with unspoken questions.

Who sent them? Why did they choose me? How did Lorenzo know? Why did he arrive so fast? And why did the sight of him beside me on that cold road make me feel safe?

I cleared my throat. "Dracula."

"Hmm?"

"How did you find me so fast?"

He paused briefly, then resumed. "We can talk about it later."

Watching him, I could tell he wasn’t planning to share anything yet, which only fueled my suspicion.

I looked at my wrist as he treated the bruising. Finger-shaped marks were already evident. Lorenzo stared at them too, his jaw tightening just a bit. I almost missed it.

"That bastard grabbed you here," he said fiercely.

"Y...yeah."

His thumb hovered above the bruises, never making contact. I could see something dark settling in his gaze, and I wasn’t sure if it was anger or something deeper.

I decided to lighten the mood. "You should see the other guy."

Lorenzo’s expression was unreadable. "He’s still alive."

"Well, that’s something."

"Not for long."

I stared at him, feeling a chill. "That’s...uh, comforting?"

He resumed wrapping my wrist, the bandage neat and secure, the knot placed so it wouldn’t irritate my skin.

I couldn’t help but watch him. It was almost surreal.

Lorenzo Castelli, the feared figure in the underworld, quietly tending to my wounds after an attack.

If someone had told me this six months ago, I would’ve laughed it off. Back then, I thought my marriage had a deadline. Turns out I was wrong on multiple fronts.

Lorenzo reached for the antiseptic again, and I flinched when he pressed near the worst part of my cheek. "Stay still."

"I am still!"

"You just moved."

"Because you stabbed me with disinfectant!"

"It’s antiseptic."

"Oh...well, close enough. Who even cares?"

Lorenzo chuckled, "It doesn’t work that way, love."

"Let me have my medical opinions, please."

"You have none."

"I have several."

"None of which are useful."

I shot him a glare, and he looked almost amused...almost. That brief flicker of humor vanished just as quickly as it appeared, and his eyes returned to my bruise.

"It’ll be around for a bit," he said. "It’s going to take a while to heal completely."

I shrugged nonchalantly, "It’s alright, I’m used to things like this."

The room fell silent. The words had slipped out, almost without me realizing it.