Dinner on Friday

37. Carla

HIS PROTECTION

It was a scary moment when I realized I couldn't move my left side.

I tried to step forward, but my leg didn't respond. It was as if I had lost control of my entire left side. The sensation was terrifying and overwhelming, and I struggled to come to terms with what was happening to me.

Dante immediately noticed, sweeping me off my feet as he walked confidently out of what appeared to be a plane hangar to meet the medics coming out of the ambulance.

I leaned into him, smelling his neck. My heart skipped a beat when his familiar scent intoxicated my senses. Although we hadn't been apart that long, I couldn't believe how much I missed him. Clutching his collar, I placed a soft kiss on his warm skin.

He stiffened, stopping to look down at me. His eyes focused intently on me, and I could feel his gaze piercing me. It was as if something had caught his attention, causing him to pause and take notice. His expression was serious and intense.

For a moment, we stood there in silence, his gaze fixed on me before he finally spoke. "Don't be scared, cariño."

How could I be when I had the most protective man on earth looking out for me? That feeling of safety and security was unparalleled. I smiled and planted a kiss on his cheek this time.

For a moment, his expression softened and his hold on me tightened.

The paramedics were whispering among themselves in medical jargon, exchanging worried glances as they loaded me on a gurney before speeding toward the hospital.

Well, that didn't bode well for me, did it?

Laying face up on the gurney, my last memory was of me and Eva fighting for our lives as a couple of men dressed in black dragged us, kicking and screaming, out of her apartment. After that, we were shoved in a car and blindfolded.

What happened after that was a mystery.

Dante said there was a fight.

Were they trying to rescue me and Eva?

Was Eli helping them and had somehow gotten hurt in the process?

And who the hell had poisoned me?

I looked at Dante's pensive face. Heartbreak resonated in the depths of his hazel gaze. Under the bright lights in the ambulance, he seemed older, stress lines marring his forehead and corners of his lips.

As we zoomed down the highway, he kept his hand on my arm, tracing gentle circles with his fingers. It was the arm I couldn't feel, but that didn't stop him. His touch was so familiar that I would recognize it anywhere. With every stroke, I couldn't help but imagine the impact he was having on my body. The sensation was electric, sending shivers down my spine and leaving me breathless.

I didn't need sensation to tell me how firm his caresses were, that each stroke of his finger was capable of tantalizing me to the point of orgasm.

Dante's raven-black hair was a mess, silky strands falling sideways on his face, partly obscuring his stunning eyes. His collar stood at attention on one side, giving him that bad boy look that first attracted me to him.

Longing to touch him, I tried to move my left hand. Although I knew what would happen, I held my breath and waited.

When nothing happened, I took a different route. Exasperated, I told my brain to tell my arm to move my hand.

More nothingness. Not even a twitch.

Hot tears spilled from my eyes, rolling down the sides of my face to land on the gurney.