The Billionaire Who Stole My Heart

The honey-colored chest came into view, the muscles strong and smooth, yet marred by numerous scars crisscrossing in a menacing dance. Brittany winced slightly, moving closer to the bed to gently wipe the blood from his face with some gauze.

He had sharp, striking features - eyebrows like raven wings and skin as smooth as a peeled egg. Handsome, yes. But clearly no saint.

The doctor continued his work, perhaps a bit too harshly given the grimace on the man's face. Brittany instinctively said, "Be gentle, please."

"Miss, I am being as gentle as I can," the doctor replied, somewhat helplessly.

Weren't all unconscious patients oblivious to pain?

Brittany felt a strange sense of familiarity looking at the man's face, but she couldn't place where she might have seen him before. As the memory eluded her, she let it go.

The doctor spent over an hour tending to the man's injuries before leaving some fever-reducing medicine, just in case.

"Miss, his wounds are severe and could easily get infected. If he develops a fever, administer the medicine. Call me if things get worse."

"Okay."

her mind. When she returned, the man had vanished. Confused, she approached the window and

dull ache as she wiped away the bloodstains and changed the sheets.

was her

I sleep with

"Of course, you can."

Brittany's bed, but she had placed a little bed in her

him into his bed. "Did the noise

just ended, and Daniel's room faced

little," he admitted

cheek

tumultuous-flashes of thunderstorms, clattering pipes, and rolling

covered her face with her hand that was drenched in

the covers,

bed, and walked into the bathroom. She