The Wrong Man (Alpha Men 3)

“Oh good grief, sit down. Before you fall down,” she said, finally overcoming the shock of seeing him here. And treating him like an invalid made her feel a little more in control of the unsettling situation.

“I’m fine,” he maintained stubbornly. He was very far from fine. She was shocked by his appearance. This vital man, who had epitomized masculine fitness and perfection just six months ago, looked weak and shaky. It was disconcerting. She had attempted to watch that clip of the attack but couldn’t get past the first thirty seconds. Just seeing that knife plunge downward and the look of shock on Sam’s face had been . . . disturbing. She had switched it off and never tried to watch it again.

“You don’t look fine,” she pointed out, and he glared at her. It was the first time he’d ever looked less than charming.

“I’ve been stabbed, for fuck’s sake,” he gritted. “Of course I don’t look fine. But regardless of how I look, I can damned well stand on my own two feet.”

“Yes, but you don’t have to do so right now,” she said matter-of-factly. She felt completely flustered by his short-temperedness, but even while she told herself it was to be expected, she wasn’t quite sure how to deal with it.

“Don’t tell me what to do, princess,” he said cuttingly, and she heaved an exasperated sigh before going back to her former task. The sooner she got this done, the sooner she could get out of here and back home. This evening had been an unmitigated disaster from start to finish, and she just wanted to crawl into bed and forget it had ever happened.

“Why are you here anyway?” he asked nastily, and she paused in the act of shoving some steak into the freezer to glance up at him. She was startled to discover that he had moved closer. How had he done that without her hearing? How could such a badly injured man move so stealthily? He was now leaning on the kitchen island, but the movement had clearly cost him dearly because he was even paler than before.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Her voice was scathing, and a ghost of a smile touched his lips.

“I was led to believe your sister Daphne would be bringing me provisions on a weekly basis.”

“Daffodil was busy tonight and won’t be home till much later.”

“Well, you don’t have to unpack them. Just the delivery is fine. I’ll take care of the rest.” He pushed himself away from the island and swayed alarmingly for a few moments before gripping the countertop again.

Stubborn man. Lia shook her head in disgust before continuing with her task. She was about halfway through and would happily leave the rest for him to do if he didn’t look on the verge of collapse. She just wanted to get out of here and pretend never to have seen him.

“We weren’t expecting you today,” she said a few moments later, after the silence grew too stressful. Considering how much she’d always longed for him to just shut up during their past encounters, it was uncanny how very uncomfortable she found his continued silence.

“I had to get out of London, the fucking press wouldn’t leave me alone,” he said, his voice bitter.

“Because you saved Laura Prentiss or because you’re dating Laura Prentiss?” she found herself asking, then wished she hadn’t. His private life was none of her concern, and she really didn’t want to know about his relationship with the pop star. She kept her gaze averted but was relieved to hear a bar stool scrape back, followed by a few pained grunts as he settled into the high chair.

“Jealous, princess?” His voice oozed with smugness.

Ugh. She schooled her face into indifference before allowing herself to meet his eyes levelly.

“Of?” He winced theatrically at her cool rejoinder and clutched his hands to his chest.

“Ouch, the perfect pretty princess has some claws.”

“Stop calling me a princess,” she protested, and he merely smiled, if the grimace pulling his lips apart could be called that, and said not one word in response. She was relieved when she finally shelved the last grocery item and dusted her hands off in satisfaction.

“Well, that’s the last of it. I see Daff has left a few emergency numbers on the refrigerator for you. I’ll just shut the windows and leave you to it. Hope you feel better soon.”

“Is your number on the fridge, luv?” he asked with a shadow of his roguish grin, and Lia cringed at the new endearment. She appreciated this one even less than princess.

“Of course not,” she huffed, pushing a strand of hair back with the heel of her hand.

“Well, who am I supposed to call when I need a sponge bath?” He leered and she pursed her lips primly.

“I have to go,” she said. “Good night.”