Tolerating their closeness was something to be born, to be endured, is what I'd been foolish enough to think.
They were not.
They were my privilege.
I tried to be reasonable and had settled on sleeping at their house, camping out in the closest guest room.
That lasted for about an hour before I took up residence outside their door, back against the wall, arms folded over the top of my knees.
I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, sleeping in fits and starts for a few more hours.
I went back into the room when I heard their voices.
They were still huddled together on the bed, speaking in low-pitched tones, faces close.
They stopped when they noticed me looming over the bed.
"James," Bianca said softly, rolling onto her back. "I'm sorry. Did I disturb your sleep when I left?"
I shot her an exasperated look, turning my attention to Stephan. "We're heading back over to our house. You and Javier are coming with. Clearly we separated you guys too soon."
He just nodded.
I reached down and snatched Bianca out of his arms and up into mine.
I nodded at him once, kissing the top of her head tenderly before I started to carry her back.
"Are you upset?" she asked as I moved.
"Yes, but not at either of you. It was an upsetting way to wake up, but I'll live."
"I'm sorry. I just woke up, remembered, realized he wasn't in the house, and I had to see him, had to touch him, to reassure myself."
"Trust me, I know the feeling."
Our extensive security had come out in force with all the activity. We'd had to hire several extra people, all carefully chosen by Clark, and I was still getting used to the new faces. It was not an easy adjustment, especially now, as they all lined the path from Stephan's house to ours, a scantily clad Bianca in my arms.
She wore nothing but a thin slip with a whisper of a thong underneath. I almost chastised her for it, with all of the security we had on the property, but I bit my tongue. She hadn't been thinking, she'd been reacting, and I could certainly sympathize with that.
"Is she okay, sir?" one of them asked.
My eyes swung to the young man that had said it. He sounded legitimately worried, as though he cared beyond the job. It raised my hackles a bit, but I smoothed them back down.
I knew more than anyone did just how unreasonably jealous I could be when it came to Bianca. I was working on it, as it was a condition that was both bad for my relationship and my well-being.
I told myself that the man was just doing his job, though a part of me didn't believe it.
Joseph was his name, I recalled. Twenty-five, clean cut. Blond and handsome, in a nondescript kind of way. A blank slate of a man, exactly the kind I felt most threatened by.
"She's fine. Give us some privacy."
They dispersed like a silent cloud, and I tried to shake off my dark thoughts.
I carried her up to our room, settling her in bed.
"Can I get you anything? Are you hurting?"
She was in considerable pain, she admitted, and I brought her pills and water. She downed them and lay down.
I lowered myself carefully beside her, taking her gingerly into my arms.
She (not gingerly) burrowed into me, plastering her lush body to my clenched one. It was as torturous as it was pleasurable.
"I want you," she said into my neck, her hand snaking down.
I stifled a groan and caught her hand, jaw clenched, body throbbing. "No. It's too soon, love. You need to rest. And heal."
She must have agreed, because she fell asleep between one breath and the next.
I, unfortunately, did not, though this arrangement was a marked improvement over the earlier one.
It was the next morning, over breakfast, that I mentioned, "I think Clark and Blake are sleeping together."
"I already guessed," Bianca said, without batting an eye. "They're totally in love. Just mad for each other."
"How long has that been going on?"
"Since the shooting, I think. Nothing like almost losing someone to show you how you really feel about them."
No kidding, I thought.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
MY RAVENOUS SELF
It was some endless span of time later, after the shooting.
Weeks that felt like ages. Time I'd spent agonizing and worrying.
I'd adjusted almost completely to working from home, as I wouldn't even consider leaving her side while she recovered. My businesses suffered through some minor hiccups for this, but nothing catastrophic. All of it had become rather relative, besides.
So what if a few other people helped me run things, and I lost control over some of the minute details that used to consume me? I couldn't even recall why it was so important to manage it all myself anymore.
What was the worst that could be happen? I'd become slightly less filthy rich?
We were dining privately, and Bianca was being very quiet. Too quiet. She was up in her own head again, though her worries were always the polar opposite of mine.
She worried about me. My stress levels, my lack of sleep, my unmet needs.
It was a difficult thing to grow accustomed to, as I couldn't remember the last time, pre-Bianca, that someone fretted over me.
Not since my mother, I supposed.
She cleared her throat and brought her level stare to meet my troubled one.
"I heard you talking on the phone earlier, to your Detroit manager. It sounded as though the situation would best be handled if you went there in person. I think you should do it. You can't stay home with me forever. I'm perfectly self-sufficient now, and even if I weren't, I have Stephan and Javier next door, not to mention all of the staff."
I didn't even consider it. She may have been ready for that, but I was not.
"Maybe in a week or two," I told her, not meaning it, but using it as a subject ender.
I went back to my food, feeling her presence acutely to my left. I was a focused man, but I could not be in a room with Bianca without at least half of my attention on her at all times.
Her presence was a great gaping void in my concentration—my ultimate distraction.
I caught her sigh out of the corner of my eye and turned my attention on her fully.
She set down her utensils, sitting back in her chair.
"Was it not to your liking?" I asked her, eyeing up her barely touched dinner. She'd finished only about a third of her filet and less than half of her vegetables.