HIS

Chapter 7

The pressure that guy put on my wrist with his massive hands is the reason I was tossing and turning in bed at 6:00 a.m., writhing in pain. My wrist throbbed so intensely I thought I might lose my mind. I finally got up and made my way to the bathroom, searching the medicine cabinet for the pain capsules I kept stashed away.

There was still some ibuprofen left, so I took a few, then decided to hop in the shower. I slipped into a pair of leggings and an oversized NYU long-sleeve shirt—today was going to be a Netflix-and-recovery kind of day until the pain subsided. If it didn't improve, I'd head to the hospital later.

Even though I wasn't hungry and could barely use one hand, I craved a grilled egg and cheese sandwich. I needed something in my stomach before the meds kicked in. After eating, I took the tablets and rubbed some ointment into my wrist. It occurred to me I should probably wrap it, so I got up and did just that.

I queued up a mix of romance and action movies to distract myself until the medication took effect. By midday, the pain had dulled enough for me to drift off to sleep. When I woke up and checked my phone, it was already 7:00 p.m. I still felt exhausted—my head was pounding, my wrist ached, and I felt sick. I didn't have the energy to drag myself to the hospital, so I took another dose and curled back up in bed. Sleep came quickly.

At 3:00 a.m., I woke up drenched in sweat, then suddenly freezing. I was definitely running a fever, and I knew I had to act before it got worse. I stripped off my clothes and stumbled into the shower, then changed the bedding and took another round of capsules before collapsing back into bed.

When my alarm went off for school, I could barely open my eyes. I was too tired, too disoriented—but I knew I had to message Marco so he wouldn't send a driver. It took effort, but I finally managed to send the text. I set my phone down and turned over to sleep again, but a notification buzzed. I was too drained to reach for it. Dizzy and miserable, I slipped back into unconsciousness.

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Domenico POV

My eyes snaped open as I felt a naked body halfway on top of mine. As I looked down, I saw a blonde girl fast asleep, her head resting on my chest. She looked almost flawless—if you ignored the fact that she was snoring like a truck driver. I had no idea what her name was, and honestly, I wasn't interested. She knew exactly what she was getting into the moment she walked out of the club with me last night.

Before heading to the club last night, I paid a visit to the gang's hideout and nearly wiped out everyone there—though, unfortunately, two of them managed to escape. Still, the message was clear: anyone thinking of crossing me should think twice. They wronged her badly, and I couldn't just let that slide. If I hadn't stepped in, they would've taken her.

I don't have any real feelings for her but seeing that lowlife put his hands on her made my blood boil. Ever since that night outside the club, she's been slipping into my thoughts at random—and it's driving me crazy. I need to get her out of my head. Girls like her—too innocent, too pure—they're a distraction. Guys like me don't have the luxury of getting tangled up in that.

It was still dark out—too early for most people to be awake—so I figured I might as well leave before she woke up and found me still there. I got dressed and slipped out. Once I got home, I peeled off the clothes that still carried the scent of the night before and stepped into the shower, scrubbing away every trace of it.

As I stood there, caught up in my own thoughts, my mind wandered to her—the girl with the soft blue eyes that seem far too innocent for someone like me. She's making me question all the reckless detachment, the random flings... the kind of life I swore I'd never trade for anything permanent. Is she getting under my skin?