Be my S̶̶l̶̶a̶̶v̶̶e̶ || Book-I ||

lie

Pete pov

"Vegas, I can walk," I mumbled, glancing up at him, but he didn’t even bother looking down. His gaze stayed focused ahead, his jaw tight.

Vegas’ strong arms cradled me as he carried me up the stairs, each step deliberate and steady. 

"Sure, you can," he said dryly, gripping me a little tighter. "But not today, baby." 

I sighed in defeat, resting my head against his chest. From this angle, I could see every sharp line of his face the curve of his jaw, the subtle stubble on his chin, and the way his Adam's apple bobbed every time he swallowed. My eyes lingered for too long. 

"Stop gulping, baby," he teased, his deep voice rumbling in his chest.

"I'm yours. You can eat me whole if you want." 

My face went hot instantly. "I I’m not doing anything!" I stammered, looking away quickly, my heart thudding in my chest. 

He chuckled, the sound low and sinful. "If you say so, baby," he murmured, pushing the bedroom door open with his foot. 

He stepped inside, the faint scent of his cologne filling my nose. It was warm, spicy, and completely him. He moved toward the bed and carefully laid me down as if I were made of glass. The mattress sank softly beneath me. 

"Comfortable?" he asked, his voice softer now, but his eyes weren’t as gentle. 

"Yeah," I muttered, trying to smile, but I caught the shift in his mood. He was calm on the surface, but there was something brewing beneath.

Vegas crouched beside me, his fingers moving with precision as he checked the bandage on my hand. His brows knitted together, his lips pressed into a tight line. He didn’t like what he saw, but he didn’t say a word. He adjusted the bandage with such tenderness that my chest ached. 

Then he moved down to my leg, carefully lifting it just enough to slide a pillow under my plastered foot. The extra support eased the dull ache in my ankle, and I exhaled quietly in relief. 

"Better?" he asked, glancing up at me. 

"Yeah… much better," I replied, giving him a small smile, trying to act like everything was fine. 

He nodded, but his eyes lingered on me longer than they should have, scanning my face like he was looking for something I didn’t want him to find. 

"I'll get you some water," he said, standing up. His movements were smooth but brisk.

I watched him walk out of the room, his fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides. He was angry. No, not angry. Furious. But he was hiding it. He didn’t slam the drawer, didn’t snap at me  nothing. His control was perfect.

I curled my fingers into the blanket, trying to steady my breathing.

The accident from this morning still haunted me.  Everything replayed in my head like a broken record. I hadn’t told him anything. I didn’t want him to know. If he knew, he’d only worry more. 

But I was scared. My fingers twitched under the blanket as a shiver ran down my spine.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, trying to push it away. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.

"Here," Vegas’ voice pulled me back. 

He handed me a glass of water, his fingers brushing against mine. They were warm, steady, but I felt the weight behind them like he was holding himself back. 

"Take this too," he said, placing a small pill in my hand. 

I nodded, swallowing the pill with a sip of water. When I handed him the empty glass, he set it aside, his eyes never leaving me.