The bathroom downstairs was a cold masterpiece of white marble and chrome. I didn't wait for Marcus or Asher to offer help I didn't want. I locked the door, stripped off my blood-stained scrub top, and went to work.
My hands didn't shake. I was a surgeon; I had closed chest cavities while monitors screamed and lives hung by a thread. A bullet graze was a simple task. I cleaned the wound with clinical precision, the antiseptic stinging like a thousand needles, but I didn't flinch. I threaded the 6-0 prolene and began the work. Stitch, knot, cut. The rhythm was familiar—a silent meditation that pushed the chaos of the last hour into a dark corner of my mind.
When the dressing was taped down and the bleeding had stopped, I stepped back out into the hallway. Nanny B was waiting there, her hands fluttering nervously against her apron.
"Oh, Miss Chloe... thank heaven you're okay. I've already put Leo to bed. He was exhausted, poor lamb."
"Where is he, Nanny B?" I asked, my voice finally losing its serrated edge.
"Upstairs, in the East Wing," she whispered, gesturing toward the grand staircase. "Mr. Asher... he had everything moved. Our things from the penthouse are already there."
I followed her up the sweeping staircase, my boots clicking on the dark, polished wood. The East Wing was a corridor of arched windows and heavy velvet drapes. Nanny B stopped before a set of double doors. "This is Leo's," she said softly.
I pushed the door open and caught my breath. It was a child's dream. The room was massive, featuring a hand-painted mural of a celestial map that glowed softly in the dim light. A custom-built bed shaped like a sleek, modern ship sat in the center. To my shock, his favorite wooden blocks and his tattered stuffed bear were already arranged on the shelves.
Leo was sleeping peacefully, clutching a new stuffed dinosaur I assumed was a gift from Asher. The shelves were packed with various other stuffed animals, standing guard beside the ones I had bought for him. It was a fortress within a fortress.
"And yours is through the connecting door," Nanny B added before slipping away to her own quarters.
I stepped through the heavy door and froze. The master suite was a breathtaking display of wealth and architectural genius. The walls were a muted charcoal that made the gold accents and the massive, king-sized bed with its silk canopy stand out. A fireplace of raw, unpolished stone roared quietly in the corner, casting flickering shadows against the floor-to-ceiling windows. Beyond the glass, the Atlantic Ocean crashed against the cliffs in a violent, beautiful display of power.
But it was the walk-in closet that stopped my heart. I stepped inside and saw them—rows of my surgical scrubs, my designer gowns from our marriage, and even the bags I had packed in a panic at the hospital before the shootout. There were new clothes, too—expensive silk and lace.
Everything was organized, cleaned, and pressed. I didn't know what to make of it. Should I be thankful for his thoughtfulness, or violated that he had gone through my private things—even my lace and lingerie? He had been planning to bring us back here behind my back, even though I'd told him a thousand times that we wanted nothing to do with him. Nevertheless, it was a relief to have something to wear other than my blood-stained clothes.
The "Sanctuary" had been transformed. It was no longer just a hideout; it was a high-tech palace. Every light fixture was modern, every corner held a security sensor, and the air smelled of luxury and salt. I stripped and stepped into the steaming walk-in shower, letting the water wash away the scent of the hospital and the copper tang of blood.
I dressed in one of my old silk robes—the one Asher used to say made my eyes look like emeralds. He had bought it for me on our first night out.
When I walked back into the bedroom, Asher was there. He wasn't in the shadows this time. He stood by the balcony doors, a glass of the strong whiskey he'd ordered in his hand. He had changed into a clean black shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal the tattoos that marked him as a king of the underworld.
"The stitches look neat," he said, his gaze lingering on the white bandage peeking through the silk of my robe. "I see your hand is as steady as ever."
"What are you doing here, Asher?" I asked, totally ignoring his compliment.
"What do you mean, 'what am I doing here'?" He stepped toward me, a dangerous smirk playing on his lips. "This is our room, Chloe."
"You've got to be kidding," I replied, my voice hard. "If you think for one minute that I am spending the night—or the rest of the week—in the same room as you, you've lost your mind."
"Do I need to refresh your memory, Chloe?" He stepped further into my space, closing the gap until the air between us crackled. "Don't forget that you are still married to me. You and I are still husband and wife."
He was too close. Suddenly, the oxygen seemed to leave the room. The massive suite felt tiny, cramped by his alluring, heavy presence. I tried to find the strength to escape his gaze before I sank into those deep blue eyes, but my voice failed me.
"Umm... I..." I tried to speak, but the words died in my throat. I could only stammer.
"What, Chloe? Cat caught your tongue?" His voice dropped to an extremely seductive, low vibration. "Are you afraid of what might happen between you and me in here?"