She smiled at him. “Thank you, Doctor, I mean it.”
“How do you feel? Honestly?”
“I ache, and my stomach is sore, but considering … I’m surprised I feel this … alive, shall we say?”
He sat on the edge of the bed and smiled at her. “Good. I’m glad. Means everything is progressing how it should. I want you to stay in for a few days so we can get some more blood into you, stabilize your vitals. But you should be able to go home by the end of the week. And you’ve quite a fan club out there. Kids from your school, some parents. Hanging on every update. One family, in particular, has been here twenty-four-seven. The Saffrans. Luca Saffran. You’ve got friends in high places, kiddo.”
Emory chuckled, then winced as the muscles in her stomach tugged. “I’ve never even met Mr. Saffran, but I do know his wife a little. And their daughter, Bree, is one of my favorite students. Not that I should have favorites; don’t tell anyone I said that.”
The morphine again. No filter, she thought. Dr. Lundheim patted her hand.
“Well, now, I can give them all some good news. What do you want me to tell the press?”
Emory blinked. “The press?”
The doctor rolled his eyes. “Of course, the press. You’re a heroine—not just statewide either, a national star. The President himself sent his regards.”
Emory let her head fall back. “Now I know it’s the morphine.”
“Seriously, Emory, there’s a bank of press reporters and photographers camped outside the hospital, waiting for their first glimpse of the conquering heroine.”
Emory suddenly felt sick. “Oh, I get it now. I get why Ray’s here…”
The doctor looked confused and then realization dawned, and his jaw flexed. “That does explain the performances, shall we say?”
Emory shook her head. “Can’t miss the spotlight.”
“It’s not his spotlight.”
“I don’t want it.” She suddenly felt tearful. God, why did it upset her so much? “Doc, I would appreciate it if he were refused entry to my room from now on. I don’t want to see him.”
“That’s no problem. And if you like, I can let the press know that he doesn’t speak for you, that you’re an independent woman.”
Emory smiled gratefully at him. “That would be lovely. Thanks, Doc, for everything.”
“Rest up; then I might let you have some visitors—the ones you want, that is,” he added with a grin.” He stood up and Emory caught his hand.
“Doc?” Her voice shook. “How many? How many in the end?”
The smile faded from the young man’s face. “Eleven, including the shooter. Four kids, six teaching staff. And nearly you, too.”
Emory felt her throat close, the grief all-consuming and she couldn’t stop the tears then. “God…”
“Hey,” The doctor glanced outside the door. “I know how to cheer you up. There’s a very excitable young lady out here who, on more than one occasion, has threatened to kick my ass if she isn’t able to see you soon.”
Emory chuckled through her tears. “That would be Bree.”
“It would indeed.” He signaled to Bree, and a second later, she came into the room and flung herself on Emory, who winced as the movement pulled on her wounds. She didn’t care, though; she wrapped her arms around the girl and hugged her hard. Something had happened in that room of terror; a bond that had already been formed in their classes together had turned to sisterhood. Bree, her short cap of black hair sticking up in every direction, drew back and smiled apologetically.
“Sorry, I hope I didn’t hurt you,” Bree glanced at the doctor, who rolled his eyes and grinned.
“See you later, Emory.” And he was gone. Bree studied her teacher and friend.
“You look so much better than I thought you would.”
“Flesh wounds, mostly,” Emory lied to reassure her. Bree’s dark eyes were serious.
“Did they tell you how many?”
Emory nodded. “It’s unspeakable, Bree, and to think that David, of all people…”
Bree lowered her voice. “People are saying he was high on something. They're really shady about releasing details. My dad was able to get some information, but nothing we couldn’t have guessed.”
Emory sighed. “How are the parents of the kids who died? Lee and Hayley, I know about. Who else?”
“Sandrine Keys and Lexi Kline.”
Emory groaned. “God … should we have seen this coming? Was David stressed out? He never gave any indication of it.”
“No one knows,” Bree could see Emory was getting upset. “Look, don’t think about it now, just get well. Hey, my dad wants to come see you—would that be okay?”
“Of course.” Emory had never met Luca Saffran, only Clementine, Bree’s mother. “Tell him to come by whenever he’s free.”
Bree looked a little guilty. “He’s actually just outside right now.”
Emory laughed, but inwardly she felt exhausted. “No problem.” Bree went to the door, and Emory heard her calling her father in a low voice. Emory hoped she didn’t appear too bedraggled; she felt she must look as wrung out as she felt.
Then Luca Saffran walked into the room and suddenly she wasn’t tired anymore. Luca Saffran was tall, his black hair and dark eyes the mirror image of his daughters. He kept his dark beard neatly trimmed, and Emory detected some Asian heritage in his handsome features.
Handsome, she thought to herself, handsome doesn’t really cover it. The man was gorgeous.
Luca Saffran smiled at her and offered his hand. She shook it, trying not to show the whirl of emotions inside her. Luca nodded to Bree, who smiled and left them alone, closing the door behind her.
“Ms. Grace, I hope you are feeling better.”
Deep voice, quiet, soft. Masculine. Emory nodded. “I am. Nothing serious.”
Luca chuckled softly. “Bree said you wouldn’t want a fuss. It didn’t look like ‘nothing serious’ when they pulled you out of that school.”
“You saw me?” Emory felt her face grow hot. Luca nodded, his dark eyes full of sorrow.
“Ms. Grace…”
“Emory, please.”
“Emory.” The way he said her name made her heart pound; it only got more excited when he took her hand. “Emory, there are no words to describe how grateful we are to you … God, that doesn’t even begin to explain. You saved three lives when you saved my daughter, Emory. I owe you a debt.”
Emory was overwhelmed by his words, but she shook her head. “There is no debt, Mr. Saffran. Anyone would have done the same. Bree is an extraordinary young woman, and I was just doing my job.”
“Above and beyond,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. Then, embarrassed, he grinned slightly. “And it’s Luca, okay?”
“Luca.” She liked the way his name sounded in her mouth. Luca. He still had her hand in his.
“I want you to know, all your medicals bills are being sent to me— yes,” he added when she opened her mouth to protest. “Stephen Harris told me of your situation, that you have separated from your husband. This doesn’t even begin to cover what I owe you, so I won’t take any argument.”
Suddenly Emory saw what he must be like in the boardroom, why he was who he was: the CEO of the biggest pharmaceuticals company in the world. SaffraPharm, Inc. was a rare company—for every dollar they made, they gave back the exact amount in free drugs to people and countries who couldn’t afford life-saving treatments. He was firm and masterful, without being controlling. He smiled at her now, and their eyes held for a beat too long.
“Emory, you look tired.”
She nodded. “I am, but thank you for coming to see me … and thank you for the other thing.” She flushed, but he merely smiled.
“Emory,” and it was his turn to hesitate, “may I come see you again? Would that be inappropriate?”
She felt her face burn. “I’d like that.”
“Good.” He reached out and touched her face, just briefly, then let hi
s hand drop. “I’d better let you rest.”
When he’d gone, Emory closed her eyes but sleep evaded her. Her mind whirled with every emotion: grief, anger, sadness—all of which was an undercurrent by this new feeling. Attraction. She tried to push it away; it was entirely inappropriate, after all. She was in a hospital bed, and Luca Saffran was the parent of one of her students, for Christ’s sake.
“It’s just the morphine,” she whispered to herself, but she could have lost herself in his deep brown-black eyes and those finely angled cheekbones. Her skin still burned where his fingertips had brushed against it. Stop it. She forced her thoughts away from him, but after a while, she called the nurse, asked for a sedative, and soon fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Bree looked over at her father as they drove back his apartment in the city. Since the shootings, he’d been staying at the house in Snoqualmie, albeit sleeping in the guest room. And for a second, Bree had remembered how it had been all those years ago, just the three of them. Before the distance between her mother and father had become too big to ignore, before the tense atmospheres began.
But now, she was glad he was going back to his apartment. Her mother had been accepting of his decision; her focus now was entirely on her daughter. Bree was grateful for the support—but her mother could be a little smothering, and so, tonight, she’d decided to stay with her dad.
Outside, it was raining, a misty drizzle coating everything, and the headlights reflected off the slick road. Bree stared out of the window.
“Dad?”
“Yes, honey?”
“Did you like Emory?”
Her father hesitated, and a small smile played around his mouth. “Very much. A very intelligent, warm young woman.” He sounded deliberately formal, and Bree chuckled.
“What you mean, Dad, is that she’s hot. It’s okay, Dad, if you like her,” Bree saw his cheeks flame red, and he cleared his throat, embarrassed.
“Breana, it’s hardly the appropriate place to…”
“I’m just saying.”
“Okay, that’s enough now.”
Bree hid a grin. “Go for it, Pops.”
Luca gave her a half-annoyed glare but couldn’t help smiling at her gleeful expression. “You are a devil child. And anyway, she’s about five minutes older than you, so let’s just drop it, okay?”
But later, when he was alone, he allowed himself to think of Emory Grace; her dark hazel eyes, her long mahogany hair, her soft, sweet smile.
How could anyone hurt you? His attraction to her was something that couldn’t be allowed. She was his child’s teacher, and he was newly divorced; and besides, it wasn’t the most romantic way of meeting, was it?
Still, he decided, turning over in his large bed, I’ll go see her again. In a few days. Give her some space. Just to be friends. In a few days.
The next morning, he got up early and took a run around the city. He had slept well, but had been plagued by dreams of Emory Grace and her lovely caramel skin, the feel of it against his lips, her sweet kiss, the sound of her moaning as he drove her towards climax … Get a grip, man; he told himself sharply.
But he knew that he couldn’t wait to see her again. And a couple of hours later, telling Bree he was going to the office, he found himself, instead, driving to the hospital.
Emory had gotten out of bed for the first time and was gingerly walking around her room. Even after only a few days, her wounds were healing, and she felt better. Physically, at least. She kept reliving the moment David—her friend, David—had stuck that knife into her. The crazed look in his eyes. She couldn’t fathom it.
After Bree had escaped, David had kept attacking Emory, and she’d defended herself until she collapsed to the floor, bleeding out and gasping for oxygen. She didn’t know how long it had been then until the police had burst in and when David had rushed them, they had cut him down instantly. Everything after that was a blur.
Emory shivered now, pulling her robe tightly around herself. The staggering violence of it all made her feel sick.
“I wouldn’t stand too close to the window. Don’t let them get the money shot for free.”
Fuck. She turned and glared at Ray, who was standing in the doorway, a bunch of roses in his hand; his fake smile plastered onto his face. She hated cut flowers, a fact Ray knew all too well. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Ray smiled, but there was no humor in his eyes. “Now, darling, don’t be a little bitch. I’ve just come to visit my heroic wife.” His tone dripped sarcasm—and something else, she realized—jealousy. Ugh.
She climbed back into bed, noticing he made no move to help her. She felt better when she sat, stronger, and now, she fixed her estranged husband with a stare.
“Ray, I asked you to stay away. We have nothing more to say to each other. You know this.”
Ray ignored her and sat on the bed. “Do you honestly think I’ll let you go that easily?”
“You don’t have a choice.”
Ray smiled, then moved suddenly, his hand pressing down hard on her wounded stomach. Emory gasped with pain, but Ray didn’t relent, his mouth next to her ear now.
“You listen to me, you little whore. You’re my wife; you belong to me; and if you think you can embarrass me like this, you are very, very wrong.”
He released the pressure on her abdomen and sat back, never taking his eyes from her face. Emory caught her breath, and when she spoke, her voice shook.
“Ray … I won’t let you threaten me. I want a divorce, or I’ll go straight to the press who seem to be waiting for me out there and tell the truth about the inestimable Professor Grace. You’ve bullied me long enough.”
Ray smiled. “Oh, I don’t think you will, Emory.” He leaned in closer to her. “Or you might find yourself on the wrong end of another knife.”
Emory rocked back from the venom in his voice. God, he was seriously threatening to kill her? As bad as things were between them … this was a whole new level. The look in his eye reminded her of David Azano and she knew without a doubt, Ray would murder her without hesitation.
“Why would you want to stay in a loveless marriage?” she whispered. “How is that good for either of us?”
“Who said it was loveless? I worship you, Emory, you must know that. You’re the beautiful woman to walk this earth, and I simply won’t let you go … alive.” He whispered the last word as if it were a seduction, then forced his mouth onto hers. Emory struggled, but his hands were rough on her shoulders, her breasts. Emory bit down on his bottom lip, and Ray swore and raised his hand to cuff her. She flinched, expecting the blow.
“What the hell is going on here?”
Luca Saffran stood in the doorway, all six-foot-five of him, glowering at Ray. Emory felt both relief and delight at seeing him, but she couldn’t help the tears falling down her face, so shocked was she at Ray’s behavior. Ray wiped the blood from his torn lip and got up. Emory noticed how small Luca made him look; because she herself was so tiny, she had always thought of Ray as tall, but he was dwarfed by Luca.
“Who the fuck are you?” Ray spat at him, and Luca gave him a chilly smile.
“Luca Saffran. Emory, is this man bothering you?”
Ray laughed incredulously. “’This man’? I’m her fucking husband, asshole, get out of here.”
Luca didn’t move, his gaze fixed on Emory’s pale face. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”
Emory shook her head, and Luca’s eyes softened. God, he’s divine. She watched as Luca turned his attention towards her seething husband. “I’m told you are about to be Emory’s ex-husband and that she doesn’t want you here. So, I suggest you leave before I call security.”
Ray got in his face. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
“I’m a friend of Emory’s. I have little time for men who threaten women, even less for those who hurt them. I’m also someone you really don’t want to fuck with. I’m also losing patience with you, Mr. Grace.” The tone of his voice had dropped to
below freezing.
Ray chuckled darkly. “A friend? Well, well, this is news…” he glanced back at Emory. “So the Little Princess Purity was fucking someone else all along. Bet the press would love to know all about their heroine’s little secret.” He turned back to Luca, sizing him up. “And it’s Professor Grace.”
“Despite your crude insinuations, Emory and I have only just met. We met after she saved my daughter’s life, and was badly injured doing so. You tell the press any different; you won’t know what has hit you.”
“You’re threatening me?”
Luca stepped forward, and Ray tottered backward. “Oh yes,” Luca said softly. “After all, that’s a language you understand, isn’t it, Professor?”
Emory held back a gasp. Luca had heard Ray threatening her and now … she could see the anger in his eyes and wondered that he was so defensive of her. It warmed her heart.
Ray was silent. Luca smiled warmly at Emory before looking back at her husband. “Now, I suggest you leave and don’t come back, or it’ll be your reputation that I’ll happily destroy.”
Ray hesitated, but then obviously decided Luca wasn’t bluffing, and with a last, furious look at Emory, stalked out.
Emory let out a long sigh of relief. “Thank you, Luca. That could have been nasty if you hadn’t shown up.”
She closed her eyes and regulated her breathing, trying to get her heart to stop thumping. Luca closed the door and pulled up a chair next to her bed, waiting for her to open her eyes. He smiled at her when she did.
“From what I overheard, it was pretty nasty anyway. How long has he been abusing you?”
Emory flushed. “Too long,” she whispered, and Luca took her hand.
“No more,” he said simply. His long warm fingers stroked the back of her hand. “Emory … what are your plans when you leave the hospital? Where will you go?”
“I have a cottage at the school and…” She trailed off as Luca shook his head.
“They’ve closed the school for the summer, and the police have locked it down for the investigation.”
Emory’s heart sank. “Oh.” Suddenly she felt bleak and hopeless. “Well, I guess I’ll have to go to a motel.”
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