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."

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

touched her chest, feeling a dull ache as she wiped away the bloodstains and changed the sheets. Just then, there

her son,

sleep with you

"Of course, you can."

she had placed a little bed in her

his bed. "Did the noise from the party wake

party downstairs had just ended, and

little," he

cheek softly.

of thunderstorms, clattering pipes,

any noise. She covered her face with her

threw off the

the bathroom.