PART 2

Evie stared at him across the cream silk sheets, heart hammering harder than it had any right to after six hours of forced sleep. The man looked even more dangerous in daylight—early-morning light slicing through tall windows, catching the sharp line of his jaw and the faint scar that disappeared beneath the open collar of his black shirt. He was beautiful the way a storm is beautiful: something you admire from a distance because getting closer could kill you.

“I nearly died,” she repeated slowly, tasting the words. “And your solution was to bring me to… whatever this is? A Bond villain lair?”

Damiano Sartori didn’t smile. He simply leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and studied her like she was a puzzle he intended to solve before breakfast.

“Mass General was twenty-two minutes away in this weather. You were seizing by the time we reached the gates. Lenox stabilized you here in nine. You’re welcome.”

Evie pushed herself up against the headboard, wincing as the IV tug in her arm reminded her she was still hooked to machines that beeped softly in the corner. The dry clothes they’d dressed her in were soft gray cashmere—women’s, expensive, not hers. She refused to think about who had changed her.

“Where’s my bag? My phone? My scrubs? And—” Her voice cracked suddenly as memory slammed back. “The dog. Golden retriever, hit by a car on Atlantic Ave. I was walking home from the night shift. I carried him three blocks to the clinic before I realized I’d run out of glucose—”

“He’s alive,” Damiano cut in quietly. “My men picked him up after they secured you. He’s in the kennel wing with the vet I keep on staff for my horses. Already had surgery. Name on his tag is Max. Owner’s been called.”

Evie blinked. Twice.

“You… you saved the dog too?”

“I don’t do half-measures.”

She laughed once—sharp, disbelieving. It hurt her ribs. “Who are you, exactly? Because normal rich guys don’t have private vets, on-call doctors at 3 a.m., and ‘men’ who secure unconscious women like it’s Tuesday.”

Damiano stood. He moved like someone who owned every room he entered, crossed to the window, and looked out at the rain still hammering the estate’s sprawling gardens.

“My name is Damiano Sartori. This is Sartori Estate. And the reason I didn’t take you to a hospital is because hospitals have cameras, records, and police who ask why a woman with no ID on her at the time was found half-dead on my street. I have enemies who would love an opportunity like that.”

He turned back to her. Those nearly black eyes held hers without flinching.

“I run the largest shipping conglomerate on the East Coast. Some of it is legal. Some of it… isn’t. The kind of people who want me dead don’t care about collateral. If they thought you were connected to me—even for one night—they’d come for you next. So I brought you here. Where I can keep you safe until you’re strong enough to walk out that door on your own feet.”

Evie’s mouth went dry.

She should have been terrified. Instead she felt something electric crackle under her skin—anger, curiosity, and the stupid, reckless pull of a man who had carried her like she was something precious while the world drowned around them.

“So I’m your prisoner out of… chivalry?”

“Guest,” he corrected. The corner of his mouth twitched—the closest thing to a smile she’d seen. “With an open door. But I’d rather you stayed twenty-four hours. Lenox wants another blood draw at noon. Your levels are still swinging. And I’d rather not scrape you off another sidewalk tonight.”

Evie narrowed her eyes. “And if I say no?”

“Then I’ll drive you home myself. But I’ll have two cars behind us, and my doctor will follow in a third. Non-negotiable.”

She studied him for a long moment. The expensive watch. The way his shoulders filled the doorway. The faint bruise on his knuckles that definitely hadn’t come from carrying her.

“You’re not used to people telling you no.”

“I’m not used to people who collapse saving stray dogs and then argue with their rescuer while still hooked to an IV.”

Evie huffed a laugh despite herself. “Evie Sullivan. Doctor of Veterinary Medicine. Professional pain in the ass. And yes, I want to see Max.”

Damiano inclined his head once, like a king granting an audience. He pressed a button on the wall. A minute later the door opened and a young man in a clean uniform wheeled in a sleek hospital-style cart—breakfast, not medicine. Fresh fruit, oatmeal, orange juice, and a silver dish containing two perfectly poached eggs.

And beside it, a tablet already open to a live feed from the kennel wing.

On the screen, a bandaged golden retriever was wagging his tail weakly at a bowl of soft food.

Evie felt her eyes sting.

Damiano watched her reaction like it mattered more than anything else in the room.

“You’re crying,” he said softly.

“Shut up. It’s the low blood sugar.”

“It’s not.”

He crossed the room again, slower this time, and sat on the very edge of the bed—not crowding, but close enough that she caught that cedar-and-rain scent again. He reached out and, with a gentleness that should have been illegal on a man like him, brushed a strand of still-damp red hair from her cheek.

“Eat, Evie Sullivan. Then I’ll take you to see your dog. After that… you can decide if you still want to run from the man who carried you out of the storm.”

She looked up at him, heart doing something stupid and traitorous in her chest.

“And if I stay?” she whispered.

Damiano’s voice dropped, rough and certain.

“Then I’ll make sure no storm ever touches you again.”

He stood before she could answer, but paused at the door.

“By the way,” he added, almost casually, “your apartment building was broken into last night. Three men. They were looking for something. Or someone. My people handled it. You’re not going back there for a while.”

Evie’s spoon froze halfway to her mouth.

Damiano’s smile was small, dark, and devastating.

“Welcome to the rest of your life, vet girl. Try not to die on me again. I don’t plan on letting you go that easily.”

The door clicked shut behind him.

Evie stared at the empty space, pulse racing, the live feed of Max happily eating on the tablet, and realized with a dizzy mix of fear and thrill that she wasn’t sure she wanted him to.

Outside, the storm finally began to ease.

Inside Damiano Sartori’s mansion, a new one was just beginning.