“I know,” Damien replied. “Monroe updated me.”
Of course he did. She should’ve known.
Her fingers fidgeted against the blanket. Her gaze dropped—but she could feel him watching her, seeing too much.
He stood at the foot of the bed now—close, but not quite within touching distance. His scent wrapped around her: whiskey, something sharp and clean beneath it. Expensive. Male. Dangerous..
“Mr. Blackwood… um, are you—are you okay?”
Her voice was soft, hesitant—barely above a whisper.
But beneath the question was something else.
Worry.
Her pulse surged like a warning.
Something had happened.
Something more than he was letting on.
“I’m not.”
A pause. His gaze flicked to the IV at her wrist, then back to her face.
She didn’t know what to say—to the most powerful man she’d ever met sta
