Please let it be good news.
“Miss Quinn?” he says as he walks deeper into the room.
Cillian and Kodiak step to one side to let the man through. He’s older, dressed in blue scrubs and with a pleasant sort of face.
“Yes?” Fuck, I feel like I can’t breathe.
A small smile curls the older man’s mouth. “So, Maxim lost a lot of blood, but he’s going to be just fine. He’ll need to stay here for a few weeks—”
“No,” Angel says sharply. “Sorry, I don’t mean to sound so curt, but once we’re able, we will have him moved home.”
The doctor flinches back, looking affronted. “I don’t think that’s wise, Mr?”
“Lexington.” Angel stands up and holds his hand out with a stiff formality. “It’s actually Mr Lexington the Third.”
Shock flares wide in the doctor’s eyes, and I’m pretty sure Kodiak covers a laugh with a cough.
I’ve never seen Angel look so authoritative, and it’s doing something rather pleasant to my core.
“I am already having a medical suite built at my estate to house Mr Volkov while he recuperates, so once he’s stable, we will have him transferred there.”
“Of course,” the doctor replies, shaking Angel’s proffered hand. “If there’s anything else you need, Mr Lexington, please let me know.”
The man practically bows on his way out, and I finally release the breath I’d been holding.
Max is going to be okay.
We’re going to take him home.
Everything will be alright.
Chapter Forty-Four
Echo – Two Weeks Later
Max is the worst patient. He gets bored easily and refuses anything the nurses want to do for him to the point where he ripped a stitch going to the bathroom. I had to get Niki to tell him off for that. The asshole only seems to be willing to take orders from Niki, so whenever Max starts trying to be defiant, I ask Niki to go in and set him straight. Works like a charm every time.
Although, I did have to ask the nurses to leave. It wasn’t their fault; Max was being impossible, and they were getting frustrated. Angel taught me how to do most of the stuff anyway, and he can change all the dressings so that we didn’t really need them anymore anyway.
It’s my turn to sit with him today, and I’m reading him one of my favourite books. It’s all about vampires and legends and sex. There’s lots and lots of sex in it and I love torturing him.
What? Serves him right for jumping in front of a fucking bullet for me.
I finish a chapter and look up to find him observing me from under a scowl. At least his colour has returned to normal. When he’d first come home, he’d been so pale. Every time I looked at him, I had to keep reminding myself that his colour would come back and that he’d be fine—that he’s not dead.
No amount of reassurance would’vestopped me from obsessively watching his chest for three days straight, though.
We'd all taken turns watching him that first week, including Veon now that he was back on his feet, but I believe it was more out of pride than anything else. He didn’t want people worrying about him when Max’s injury was so much worse. I didn’t let him do too much, though. Veon was still healing, and he still needed his rest. I just had to find subtle ways of coercing him to do what I wanted him to.
Max’s eyes are stormy as he watches me put the book down.
“What is it?” I ask, my tone light.
“You’re mad at me, aren’t you?”
“No,” I reply quickly.
Too quickly, judging by his smirk.
