Chapter 6 - The Safehouse in the Pines
Three hours north, tucked into the dense, fog-draped pine forests along the coastline, sat a secluded stone manor. Christian drove with one hand, his jaw clenched against the pain of his shoulder. Elena had tried to bandage the wound in the car, pressing a clean cloth against the bloodied gash while his skin radiated fierce heat.
""You should be in a hospital,"" Elena insisted as they stepped into the dim, wood-scented cabin.
""Hospitals have records. Records have eyes,"" Christian muttered, tossing his keys onto a rough-hewn wooden table. He slumped into a leather armchair, his face pale under the amber light of the single lantern. ""Cabinet under the sink. Antiseptic, needle, suture thread.""
Elena’s hands trembled as she retrieved the medical supplies. ""I've never sewn up a person, Christian.""
""Then pretend I'm a torn dress,"" he said dryly, ripping away the remainder of his ruined shirt. His chest was corded with muscle, marred by several old scars that hinted at a past far darker than corporate boardrooms.
Taking a deep breath, Elena washed her hands and set to work. She cleaned the gash with antiseptic. Christian did not flinch, only his fingers digging into the leather armrests betrayed his agony. With steadying fingers, Elena closed the wound stitch by stitch, her face inches from his. She could smell the rain, pine, and masculine musk of him.
""Why me?"" she whispered, cutting the final thread. ""You could have bought my father's company without dragging yourself into a blood feud.""
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Christian looked up, his gaze intense and heavy with unspoken history. ""Your father saved my life when I was eighteen, Elena. I made him a promise on his deathbed that no one would ever touch you.""
Before she could speak, the cabin’s satellite phone rang with a shrill, piercing buzz.
