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again.

“Charly.” This time he said her name softly as he very gently picked up her hands again. They were trembling. He carefully slid back the sleeve of her doctor’s coat.

“Motherfucker,” Declan spat and turned around and punched the dashboard.

As for Antonio, trying not to lose his mind was a struggle because rage sizzled like electricity through his veins.

Finger marks encircled her wrists. They were still red, but Antonio was sure they were going to turn a nasty shade of blue.

“Is anything broken?” he pushed the words through his clenched teeth. “Charly, do you need an x-ray?”

“No,” she said. “Nothing broke.”

He carefully rolled down her sleeves and a muscle contracted painfully in his chest. That muscle was probably his heart. A strange sensation and emotion were twisting him up inside.

“Okay,” he said. He pulled her into his arms and she buried her face in his chest. Tears dampened his shirt and her shoulders shook as she cried silently.

William Bennett was a dead man.

When they arrived back in the house, Antonio didn’t even give Charly a chance to protest. He carried her straight up to their room, taking the steps two at a time. In the back of his mind, he knew he needed to call Luis, but, at the moment, the woman in his arms was all that mattered.

In just a week, Charlotte Bennett had become the most important person in his life and he was helpless to stop this overprotective feeling where she was concerned.

Entering their bedroom, he headed to the connected bathroom and set her on her feet beside the sink. He peeled the white coat from her shoulders, flinging it aside. Then he inspected her wrists again. The bruising had started, a light tinge of blue evident beneath the skin.

“Antonio …” she croaked.

“First. Shower.” He walked over to the glass enclosure and started the water. “Then we’ll talk.”

After adjusting the temperature. “I can do it,” Charly insisted when he began to unbutton her top. His fingers stopped what they were doing, but he gave her a look.

He hated her resigned expression and the accompanying sigh, but he continued assisting her in undressing. He may be a bit heavy-handed, but no way was he leaving her alone to wallow in her miserable thoughts. He methodically removed the rest of what she was wearing and assisted her into the shower area so she wouldn’t get chilled.

Antonio quickly discarded his own clothes and joined her.

He hugged her from behind, engulfing her with his presence as water sluiced over them. He massaged her scalp before grabbing the shampoo to wash her hair. Then with the body wash, he lathered her body, turning her around so they were face to face.

When he was done, he cupped her face and planted a slow kiss on her lips. Raising his head, he stared into the depths of her blue eyes and saw his future. A woman he couldn’t let go of. Antonio didn’t know what this meant yet. He didn’t know what things meant anymore. He was developing feelings for Charly Bennett and instead of trampling them under his feet, he wanted to hang on to them.

“I still don’t know what this means, Charly,” he said. “But I think I’m falling for you.”

Her eyes widened and her lips parted. “You’re just feeling sorry for me.”

Antonio was prepared for that answer. His timing of telling her these things were suspect, but he wasn’t going to let the moment pass. He deserved this uphill challenge. “I’m going to prove you wrong.”

With those words he turned her away from him and grabbed the shampoo. She turned back around and could see the mulish angles bracketing her mouth.

He shut his eyes, pretending he didn’t want to let the suds get into them.

“You’re crazy.”

“Can’t argue that.”

“You’re protective of people who work for you.”

“Technically, you work for Garrison now.”

“Antonio …”

He popped open an eye. “Get yourself rinsed, then we can talk.”

“But …”

“No buts.” He turned her around again.

Even without seeing her face, he knew he was getting her out of her funk.

Good.

His Charly was spunky and he was realizing there was nothing he hated more than seeing her defeated.

After the shower, he bundled her up in a towel and put her in a set of pajamas.

“You’re treating me like a child,” she grumbled.

“No, gatinha, I want to treat you like a queen,” he replied as he grabbed the blow dryer.

“Do you know how to use that thing?” she demanded warily.

“A quick blast on my hair whenever I’m in a hurry.” Antonio was blessed with an abundance of hair, but it could be tricky to apply the hair product and keep it slicked back the way he wanted. He grinned sheepishly. “I don’t want to burn your scalp and I don’t think your wrists are up to the job. I’m at your service.”

A smile graced her lips. “When you tossed me over your shoulder a week ago, I never expected a billionaire to become my hair stylist.”

He winced. “Don’t give me credit yet, I might burn off all your hair and ruin this beautiful blond head of yours.” He switched on the dryer.

Antonio wished he could say he did a spectacular job with Charly’s hair—but there was a second there where he got it horribly tangled—but his woman was giggling at his awkward efforts. When he finally got her hair mostly dry, sweat was trickling from his forehead.

Merda.

Handling a brush and a blow-dryer felt like he had two left hands, but he was glad he didn’t ruin what Jolene just repaired.

“All done,” he muttered.

He guided her back into the room and made her sit on the tiny couch that was against the window.

Antonio sat on the coffee table across from her and checked her wrists again. His anger seemed to be set on a low hum and every time the bruising seemed to get worse, his blood pressure spiked. He gritted his teeth as he wished William Bennett was in front of him right now so he could beat the man to

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