Chapter 8

Miranda’s P.O.V

I felt the softness of a bed beneath me as my full weight pressed against it. After my little pathetic display in the car, Davien had carried me into his house, which was surprisingly not as big as I might have expected. I’d had this notion that since he had a driver and all, he’d be some Ritchie Rich but I guess I’d been mistaken by a long shot. It was a quaint little abode, with a very cosy and kindred exterior. He had carried me to what I assumed to be a guest bedroom on the ground floor.

I scooted up and leaned against the headboard, and watched him disappear into the adjoining bathroom only to return with a first aid kit in hand. He sat beside me, making sue to maintain some distance, but I could still smell his enchanting cologne. He opened up the box, took out cotton balls and some antiseptic before looking at me. “I need to dress your wounds; will you allow me to do so?” he asked politely. I nodded silently, before he leaned over to me and got to work.

I tried