Provoked (Forbidden Crush #2)

Chapter 8

8

I’m living in a thick fog of pain and confusion. The pain is mostly masked by what I recognize as strong painkillers, but it leaves a residue of discomfort all the same. My eyes stay shut. I’m not sure if I can open them or not. It mostly seems like too much effort to try. Plus, the world is spinning off its axis at the very thought of Ingrid as my wife. Anybody’s wife, but particularly mine. She’s way too young to be thinking about marriage. And yes, I understand why she fabricated a relationship. It was probably a smart thing to do under the circumstances.

There’s something about the accident I can’t remember. Okay, I can’t remember anything. But there’s a detail my brain is attempting to alert me to that I need to remember. It’s important. But every time I try, the fog grows thicker. Ingrid steps away for a minute and I feel bereft. She’s become my touchstone with reality — the world outside the fog and I worry without her it may just swallow me up. For myself, that’s no real loss to the world, but I need to keep her safe. And to do that, I have to emerge from it. I wait impatiently for her to come back.

But it’s not Ingrid’s soothing voice I hear next. It’s an echo of far more strident tones from my past. Margot. The name comes to me and for some reason my belly tenses.

“How the fuck are you still alive, asshole?” she mutters as she moves closer to the bed. This time I make a concerted effort to open my eyes. I manage the barest of slits just in time to see her reach for a tube.

Ingrid steps into the room, blurry to my limited vision but beautiful all the same. I want to shout at her to get out, but nothing, not even a croak, emerges.

“What are you doing?” Ingrid demands, sounding panicked. She moves to push Margot out of the way, but the older woman is stronger. Ingrid pushes on Margot’s shoulder hard and reaches for the call button with her other hand. She makes it just as Margot slaps her hard across the face. Ingrid must have been off balance because she goes sailing down to the floor. My heart stops. Nurses rush in.

Margot turns as sweet as pie. “I’m his wife. I only just heard about the accident. I got here as quick as I could.”

“I thought she was his wife?” One of the nurses helps Ingrid up. I can’t see any of this, but I’m reading between the voices and the small moan from Ingrid.

“That little tramp? She’s barely out of school,” Margot scoffs. I need to end this. Now.

I muster everything I’ve got to say just two little words. “Ing. Wife.” Then my eyes slam shut and I’m out.

My cheek is on fire — and my ass from where I landed isn’t far behind. But thank God I’m wearing my jeans today because I don’t think those cheap scrubs would have survived the scuffle.

I ignore the pain from Margot’s assault, to focus on the relief that Justin managed those two whispered words. As soon as he said them, the nurses rallied, turning accusing looks at the redhead. I’m not surprised they entertained some doubt at the beginning. She looks much more like the person who should be his wife. Attempting to kill him, though…

“She was tugging on some tubes when I came in,” I whisper urgently to the nearest nurse, Rosa.

She frowns and goes to check everything. She adjusts some things and slaps a fresh length of tape over his IV shunt. “He’s fine. Anna’s making a call to the police now.”

I watch in shock as Margot slips out the door. “Shouldn’t someone stop her?”

“Security is alerted. We aren’t supposed to engage,” Rosa answers me with a sympathetic glance. “Let’s get you a cold pack for your cheek. On the house,” she adds with a grin.

I crack a weak smile in response. I don’t particularly care if I get a black eye, as long as Justin’s recovery hasn’t been compromised. And where the hell is Fred?

It turns out security wasn’t keeping as careful an eye as they should. A simple headscarf allowed Margot to slip out the exit to the garden patio and from there, through an open maintenance gate and out to the main car park. All caught on video clear as day, but the human monitoring the cameras at the time missed it entirely. It only came to light after I started asking questions as the panic and adrenaline began receding. But I have to make do with the staff and management willing to face my wrath in Justin’s room. Just to be on the safe side, they also scrubbed down his room and now it smells even more strongly of disinfectant.

I’m so unnerved by the incident that I’m loath to leave Justin’s side, even for a few minutes. It’s doubtful Margot would try something again so soon and risk arrest, but I can’t be sure. The nurses take pity on me and fetch me food from the cafeteria when they go on break. I’m grateful, but wondering how long we can keep this up.

Two days later, as I’m attempting to focus on the arrogant duke and failing miserably, Justin’s eyes pop open. This time they’re not simply slitted and his gaze is sharp as ever.

“Justin?” I quaver, almost afraid to hope.

His voice is raspy and hesitant when he speaks hesitantly. “Please tell me it was a nightmare. Margot didn’t really try to kill me. Twice. And you didn’t proclaim us married to the world?” His voice is husky and weak, but his spirit is clearly undamaged.

I frown and stand up so I can stare him in the eye better. “It happened. Fred should be here soon, but he’s not answering his phone, so I can’t say for sure.”

“Fuck,” Justin mutters, his big body shifting slightly in the bed. “Where’s Margot now?”

I shrug. “Nobody knows. She slipped out a side door wearing a scarf.”

Justin rolls his eyes, and I almost cry with relief that his ornery side is back. But that feeling disappears when he announces, “I need to get you back to New York.”

I frown and cross my arms over my chest. “Not happening. Fred is coming and we’ll figure out why she’s after you and why here where she sticks out like a sore thumb. Plus, this is my home now and I can take care of you just fine.”

“You’re going to take care of me?” Disbelief and amusement twine through his weakened voice.

“Yes. Now be quiet. You need to rest.” I hold my fingers over his mouth lightly to make my point. Awareness flares in his eyes and just as they begin to narrow, I jerk my hand back as if I’d touched something far too hot.

“Ingrid,” Justin warns, but his ability to yell appears to be have been dampened because he sounds almost gentle.

I don’t know what’s been going on while I was out, but it’s clear Ingrid is wound tight to the breaking point. She looks thinner and the dark bruise on her cheek has me wincing. She needs a good night’s sleep in a proper bed, I acknowledge as I watch her fall asleep folded over in her chair, her arms crossed under her cheek on the side of my bed. No wonder she looks so tired.

Hesitantly, I reach a hand out to touch her hair. She turns her head slightly, her cheek nestling into my palm. Asleep, she doesn’t flinch from my touch, which makes me wonder what she’s hiding.

I glance up from studying her delicate features to find Fred leaning in the open doorway, his eyebrows up and a grin spreading across his grizzled face.

“She finally got to you, huh?”

I ignore his obvious dig for gossip in favor of more important questions. “What’s Margot up to? And keep it down. Ingrid needs whatever sleep she can manage.”

Fred rolls his eyes even as he pulls another chair closer to the bed on the opposite side from Ingrid.

“Nothing good, boss. As you understand it, Ingrid inherits your estate if you die, right?”

I answer with a sharp nod.

“But what happens to the management of her trust?” he asks dryly .

I try to think back to all the legal paperwork. My brain is still a bit fuzzy, and all that was setup years ago. “Let me clue you in,” Fred growls. “If you’re married and die before Ingrid is married or turns thirty-five, your wife takes over the trust.”

A sick feeling churns in my stomach. “But I’m not married.”

“Margot says otherwise. Has paperwork ready and everything. It helps that she insisted on using only the best. And the best for forged documents in the metro area is a guy named Kevin. Unfortunately for Margot, Kevin and I go way back.”

“Fuck,” I whisper, feeling the need to yell and throw things. Only Ingrid’s face pressing into my hand keeps me still.

“Indeed. I would strongly advise that Ingrid come into her inheritance as soon as possible.”

My legs shift restlessly of their own accord as my brain tries to fathom how my dying actually puts Ingrid in more danger. The movement must wake Ingrid because her head lifts slowly, her eyes blinking as she tries to focus. A look of relief sweeps over her face as she spies Fred.

“Oh, good. You’re here,” she says softly, her hand gripping mine tightly.

“Ingrid…” I interject.

Her dark eyes shift to mine with complete trust. “What did I miss?”

“You need to get married,” I inform her abruptly.

Her eyes bounce to the open doorway and then back to mine, full of questions.

“I mean really and truly married,” I amend dryly.

Her eyes simply widen while a frown takes over her cupid’s bow of a mouth. “I don’t understand. Why do I need to get married when it’s you she’s trying to kill?”

“That’s why she’s trying to kill me. So she can take control of the trust. And once she has it, she can forge more documents making her your beneficiary. Then she’ll come after you.” My voice is still strained from the accident, but there’s no mistaking my grim tone. Ingrid pales.

“But…” Her graceful hands flutter over the bed anxiously.

“Probably best to turn the fiction to truth,” Fred finally chimes in with a smirk. I close my eyes in resignation. He’s right.

“You’ll arrange it, Fred? And get me out of here, too, please?”

“Arrange what?” Ingrid asks in a whisper.

“Our marriage, Ingrid. For real. Or at least legally.”

“Oh.” She blushes a fiery red. Fred snorts a chuckle that he quickly turns into a cough at my glare.

“Did you have someone else in mind?” I ask her curiously. She certainly hasn’t mentioned dating anyone and I would have thought if she had someone serious in her life, they would have been here to help with the move.

Ingrid shakes her blond hair furiously. “No! I’d already decided I’m staying single for the rest of my life.”

My eyebrows go up at that one. I can’t see it. She’s too sweet and gentle.

“Well, you can return to that path I guess after we settle the requirements of the trust and I’m satisfied you won’t let some schmuck take advantage of you,” I mutter.

For some reason, that makes Ingrid slowly straighten, her brown eyes twinkling with mirth. “I see. Well, I think we need some ground rules and Fred can be a witness. First, I’m not leaving Montana. You can recuperate and supervise from my house. That will give you an incentive to maintain reasonable standards. And Justin? If we’re legally married, there can’t be any other women. Even if we aren’t…” Her voice trails off and then her spine stiffens, “I won’t be humiliated like that. Nobody else as long as you’re officially with me.”

A curious sense of warmth spreads through my belly, watching Ingrid stake her claim so sweetly. Even if it’s a platonic one. Whoever eventually steals her heart is one lucky bastard.