Fixation (Fatal Attraction #3)

Chapter 8

8

R eina woke up to the sound of a loud groan. She jumped to her feet, her heart pounding, and found Vedant Oshnov watching her, a distressed look on his face. Since she’d taken over the night shift from Stefan, she must’ve dozed off at some point.

She hurried to him. “What happened?”

He held the left side of his chest where a small red stain was seeping through his plain white shirt.

“Did you try to get up by yourself?” she asked.

He exhaled a shaky breath. “Yes.”

She studied his upper chest. “I think you may have torn one of your stitches while exerting to rise up. I’ll need to take a look.” She raised her eyes to his. “May I?”

At his nod, she adjusted the position of his bed so he was mostly upright. Donning a fresh pair of gloves, she approached him. She moved his hand away from his shoulder, made him lean forward and helped him take off the shirt.

It was the first time in a very long time that she was fully alone with Vedant. The last whole week, his brothers had been around, but they’d left earlier in the day, and now everything felt awkward between them. Not that it had been any different before, she reminded herself.

She inhaled, and a whiff of detergent and fabric softener hit her nose. Since Vedant had been dressing in this basic hospital attire of cotton shirts and pants, he always smelled of freshly laundered fabric. She wondered what his real scent was. Did he smell hot and sexy or fresh and sporty?

Fuck, what was she thinking? It didn’t matter whatsoever. It was none of her business. She wasn’t interested in him. And this behaviour was the reason she’d avoided being alone with him for so long.

She went to work unwrapping the bandage across his chest. She flicked a glance at his face and found his eyes tightly shut and his lips compressed.

“Mr. Oshnov,” she said gently. “Look at me, please.”

Opening his eyes, he looked at her.

“How much does it hurt, on a scale of one to ten?”

“Ten,” Vedant muttered.

She checked the clock on the wall. It was a little after midnight. “I just gave you a painkiller shot a little while ago. You must have pulled hard to get up, and that’s why it’s hurting so much. The pain will subside in a few minutes,” she told him. “I need you to breathe, okay? Inhale through your nose and exhale through your mouth.”

He did as she told him to as she carefully cut through the blood-soaked gauze and cotton pad. Her eyes fell on the tattoo on his right arm. It was an anchor. Strange, she hadn’t noticed it until now.

“What does your tattoo mean?” she asked as a way of distracting him from his pain. It was not like she was curious about him. Nope. Not at all.

He looked at her. “It means loyalty, stability, and strength. But for us, it is a sign to remain grounded.”

“Grounded, how?”

He spread a hand out. “That we didn’t have all this at one time, and now that we do, we need to appreciate it every single day of our lives and remain grounded through it all.”

“Us?” She met his eyes for a brief moment. “Do you mean all three of you have this tattoo?”

“Yes, we got inked together. I have it on my arm, Armaan has it on his back, and Mihir has it on his chest.”

His words took her by surprise. They showed a different side of him, one that was grateful and thankful. That he believed he was blessed to have got what he had. She looked up and found his eyes already on her. His gaze was hot and intense as he studied her. It made her blood sizzle. It made her lose a breath. Chiding herself, she focused on the task at hand. Still, she could feel his eyes burning into her.

“Your glasses,” his eyes roamed her face. “You’re not wearing them.”

Shit, she must have removed them before she’d fallen asleep. Her lips pursed. No wonder he’d been staring at her so intently.

“Can you see without your glasses?” he asked.

“Yes.” Her gaze flicked to him briefly before returning to her task.

“Then why wear them?”

She remained silent, cleaning his wound, studying the stitches she’d given him.

“I didn’t know you’d taken over the night shift,” he said.

“I haven’t, but Stefan was doing too many nights, so the three of us ladies decided to give him a small break. Tonight was my turn to stay with you. I must have dozed off earlier.”

She patted his chest dry with a fresh cotton swab. “I have some good news and some not so good news.” Seeing the panic flash on his face she quickly said, “There’s no need to worry about anything, okay?”

“There are so many worst-case scenarios that filled my head instantly.” He gulped. “Tell me the not so good news first, pozhaluysta . Please.”

“I’m afraid you tore into the last stitch in your effort to get off the bed. Hence the bleeding. The good news, though, is that all the stitches have mostly healed. The bleeding from this torn one has also stopped.”

“That’s it?” he checked.

“I’m just going to clean you up and remove the rest of the stitches right now itself. Then we can check your arm’s movement.”

“So, I was panicking for nothing?” He sounded relieved.

“You were lucky you didn’t injure yourself badly. How are you feeling now?”

“Better. The pain has lessened.”

She went to work removing the stitches that ran from his upper chest all the way to his shoulder. Once done, she cleaned and disinfected the scar. It was definitely healing well.

She stepped back, removed her gloves and tossed them into the bin.

“All done. Now let’s see your movement.” Lifting his arm, she began to raise it up and down slowly, studying his face all the while. She stopped when she noticed a bit of discomfort on his face. “As of now, you don’t seem to be able to lift it very high. That should improve with physiotherapy. Let’s check it again tomorrow after we remove the cast from your leg.”

When she was about to turn, he caught her wrist. Something crackled in the air around her. Her skin heated, and her heart began to race in her chest. Annoyed with herself, she tried to shrug off his hold. He held firm, his gaze fixed on her wrist as if he, too, was feeling that strange warmth unfurling between them. Insane. She was behaving insane. Yet, she couldn’t stop herself from staring at him.

More of his bruises had faded in the last week. With his tousled, just-woken-up hair and that stubble lining his sharp cheekbones, he looked so… good. She itched to feel the roughness of his cheeks, to rake a hand through his hair and learn if they were as soft as they looked. Her stomach knotted. Why was she unable to control her thoughts? Or her eyes? Or her emotions? All of them were behaving as if they had a mind of their own. Her eyes coasted down his body.

It suddenly dawned on her that he was shirtless, his whole chest on display for her. Her gaze shamelessly traced his abs and the vee going down his sides and then went up to his face. The beard on his jaw was much more enhanced now, giving him a rugged look. She looked into his eyes and found him watching her. Cut it out, Reina , she scolded herself. You don’t even like him.

“Mr. Oshnov, can you please let go of my hand?” Her voice came out all breathy, which further irritated her.

He stared at her and then at his hand that had captured her wrist, still doing nothing to let her go. She caught his fingers and removed them from her wrist. And now, she was so mad, at herself and at him.

“Look, I’m leaving your chest open. It has healed well,” she said. “But please, no jerking movements for a few days more.”

She busied herself studying his vitals on the various screens attached to him. He, however, hadn’t stopped watching her. Taking a plain shirt off from a rack in the corner, she helped him into it, taking deliberate care not to touch his skin.

“My ring,” he said, “It’s fallen on the other side of the bed. I woke up and saw it on the trolley. Tyrion must have left it here for me when I was sleeping. I was trying to pick it up when it slipped from my hand and fell. I was trying to get up to retrieve it when... when you woke up.”

She rounded his bed and found that the ring had rolled a little distance away. Set on a platinum band, it had a huge blue stone in the centre. She ran the tip of her finger around its periphery, studying it, before handing it to him. He wore it on the pinkie finger of his left hand, his lips curving into a smile. What was so special about this ring? Who had given it to him? What was this light blue stone? She’d never seen anything like it. Fuck, again, she was curious about him.

“ Spasibo . Thank you,” he told her.

“It’s late. Try and get some sleep.”

She handed him the remote to adjust the bed to his position of liking. Moving away, she sat on the armchair she’d been resting on earlier. She breathed in and out, trying to gain control of her racing heart. She glared at the romance novel she’d been reading earlier. She wasn’t the problem here. It was these delicious romance books that Su Min had insisted she read that had caused her thoughts to turn unruly and lascivious. Thanks to these books she’d been devouring every day, she had been checking out Vedant Oshnov even when she didn’t like him.

Yes, she absolutely didn’t like Vedant Oshnov. He was her patient, nothing else. The lateness of the night and the spiciness of the scene she’d been reading prior to dozing off were to be blamed for her minor lack of control. Yes, that was it. It wouldn’t happen again. She’d ensure it.