“We’re okay,” I say to her. I do my best to keep my voice steady even though I’m still freaking out on the inside. “See? The police are taking her away right now.”
Isla throws her arms around me and softly sobs against my shoulder. “How do we know she won’t come back?”
God, this poor kid. Her whole world has been turned upside down in the blink of an eye. She’s been traumatized—nearly killed—by someone she was supposed to be able to trust.
Yeah, this is going to stay with her for a long time. With me, too.
Keir scoops Isla up into his arms and hugs her.
“Natasha won’t be back,” he says without actually answering her question. “That’s all you need to know, okay? You won’t have to deal with her anymore.”
Isla frowns but doesn’t argue. She seems too tired and frightened to bicker at the moment.
But his answer makes me seethe. I suddenly realize just how much I blame Keir for what happened with Natasha. Not that I think he would intentionally put his daughter—or me, for that matter—in danger. Of course he wouldn’t.
He loves Isla. Hell, he probably cares about me in his own off-putting, asshole sort of way.
But that doesn’t change the fact that the situation with Natasha could have been avoided. It should have been avoided. If he had only listened to me when I told him that we couldn’t trust Natasha, I wouldn’t have ended up dangling off of a freaking building.
Keir nods toward the Colosseum exit. “We should go. There’s already going to be tons of paparazzi waiting for us, and it’s only going to get worse the longer we stay here.”
My jaw clenches. I’m trying to hold my tongue, if only for Isla’s sake. It’s a struggle to be quiet but I do my best.
The last thing this sweet girl needs is to see or hear me arguing with her oblivious, self-absorbed father.
Am I being a little too hard on him?
Maybe.
Natasha has just tried to kill him, too. But again, it all could have been avoided if he wasn’t so, well… himself.
“What’s wrong?” he mouths over Isla’s head as we start walking back to the SUV.
A million irritated answers shove their way to the tip of my tongue, but I just turn away and force all the things I want to say right back down again. My jaw aches with the effort.
What good will it do to complain? To berate him and tell him how I feel when I already know he won’t listen?
Probably as much good as it did when I warned him about his crazy assistant.
“Nothing,” I lie. “Besides almost being murdered by your insane assistant, I guess.”
I slide into the backseat of the waiting vehicle. Isla climbs inside next, followed right behind by her dad, who is still giving me a quizzical look. This time, though, the look is tinged with a familiar streak of irritation.
Of course he’d somehow find a way to be irritated with me right now. So typical. Why did I even bother talking to him at all? Let alone staying with him?
Because you care about his daughter.
Because he is capable of being sweet and sincere and gentlemanly sometimes.
Because the sex can be so amazing.
Okay.
Those thoughts are seriously less-than-helpful right now. I can’t stay angry if I’m picturing him naked in front of me. And on top of me. And…
Nope.
Still not going there.
I reach for my seatbelt and gasp as a sharp pain shoots through my shoulder.
“Oh my God.”
Tears spring to the corners of my eyes. All I can do is clutch my shoulder and try not to move as the car picks up speed and starts winding through the ancient Roman roads.
“What’s wrong?” Keiran asks. It’s the same question he tried to ask a few moments ago, but this time with a clearly concerned look on his face. “What did I miss? Are you okay?”
Isla seems to be on the verge of tears as she looks up at me.
“Ella? What happened?” She looks around the inside of the vehicle with panic coloring her voice. “Is Natasha after us again?”
I try to force a smile to reassure her but can only wince as we hit a pothole and another spasm of pain rocks my shoulder.
“No, we’re safe,” I exhale, barely breathing after another bump in the road. “I think I might have dislocated my shoulder when we were hanging off that ledge.”
Keir is starting to look almost as worried as his daughter.
“You didn’t feel it before?” He shoots a dirty look in the driver’s direction before I can answer. “Dammit, man, are you trying to hit these fucking bumps?”
The driver arches a brow. He’s not someone I recognize, so he’s probably a local. If he understands Keir’s complaint, he doesn’t acknowledge it.
Smart man.
“I guess the adrenaline blocked out the pain,” I answer Keir when he turns his attention back to me. I toss my head and try not to look as pissed off or as pained as I feel. “I couldn’t feel anything except fear for a while.”
And anger.
Plenty of anger.
“Now the adrenaline is wearing off,” I continue, clenching my teeth as my vision starts to darken at the edges. God, am I seriously going to pass out? “And it… it hurts really badly. I’m actually…” I lose track of my thought as another wave of pain sweeps over me.
Isla’s gaze flicks from Keir to me and back again. “Do something for her!”
“I’ll have a doctor meet us at the residence. If it’s really dislocated, he’ll be able to help. If it’s something worse, he’ll get us into the hospital faster than if we tried to go by ourselves.”
I nod, ready to agree to anything that’ll stop the pain. Closing my eyes, I turn my head to let the late summer sun hit my face. It’s worse when I focus on the pain too much, I quickly surmise.
Flicking open my eyes, I watch as the Roman cityscape passes by. Everything is the same tones is gold and dusty brown, all shades and shadows from the same palette and brush. The world outside rushes by in a mostly-silent blur that’s punctuated by regular jolts of agony that leave me short of breath and nearly in tears by the time we make it back to the luxurious apartment tucked inside the NewsCorp headquarters.
“Where’s the damn doctor?” Keir barks at Lorenzo, the concierge, before we’re even fully inside the building.
He blanches and starts to answer but he makes a dismissive gesture as he ushers me toward the elevator. “Never mind. Send him up as soon as he arrives. If he isn’t here within the next three minutes, I want a fucking helicopter to take us to the hospital.”
“Yes, Lord Grayrose. Right away, sir.”
The elevator doors close just as Lorenzo is scrambling for the phone, a sheen of sweat breaking out on his bald head. Poor guy.
I’d tell Keir to go easy on him if I wasn’t in so much pain… But right now it’s hard to be angry about his raised voice and rude behavior when he’s lashing out on my behalf.
And okay, it is a tiny bit sexy that he’s so commanding and demanding and in-charge right now. But just a tiny bit. I’m still pissed off at him and that isn’t going to change just because he also happens to be the hottest man I’ve ever seen.
His expression softens slightly in the elevator as he gives me a quick up-and-down look. “Does it hurt anywhere else?”