Chapter 18

Setting the Boundaries

POV: Karol Kensington

"Lock down every single door in this house right now!" Ciro roared.

"I already did, boss," Mateo said quickly. He wiped the blood off his hand with a white towel. "The storm shutters are down. The heavy steel doors are locked. But the cameras are useless in this heavy rain. We are totally blind outside."

"Then we wait for him to try and get in," Ciro ordered. "Put guards at every window. No one sleeps tonight."

Mateo nodded and left. The heavy glass doors slid shut behind him, locking with a loud click.

I stood in the middle of the room, shaking. My stomach felt sick. A man had tried to shoot me at the airport, now my old work badge is covered in blood. It was a message. He was here, on the island, and he was hunting me.

"Karol."

Ciro’s voice was softer now. He rolled his wheelchair closer to me. I could see the worry hiding behind his dark, angry eyes. He reached out to grab my shaking hands.

I stepped back before he could touch me.

If I let him hold me right now, I would break. I would cry, and I would never stop. I was trapped on an island in a violent storm with a killer waiting in the dark. I had no family.

But as I looked around the bright, clean medical room, I realized there was one thing I could still control. My job.

I took a deep, shaky breath. I forced the fear deep down into a little box in my chest and locked it tight. I lifted my chin and looked Ciro right in his bronze eyes.

"We are not waiting," I said. My voice was loud and steady in the quiet room.

Ciro frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"I am talking about your knee," I said. I walked over to a metal cart and picked up a clean clipboard and a pen. I let the cold, professional doctor take over my body. "There is a killer outside. But there is a torn ligament inside this room. And I am not going to sit around waiting to die. We are starting your rehab right now."

Ciro stared at me like I had lost my mind. "Karol, someone is trying to kill you. You need to sit down and hide."

"No," I snapped. I walked back to him and pointed my pen at his chest. "You bought my contract. You told me I belong to your recovery. You said if you do not heal, I owe you fifty million dollars. So, we are going to work."

Ciro’s eyes darkened. The dangerous, arrogant billionaire slowly woke back up. "You do not give me orders, princess."

"In this room, I do," I fired back.

I did not back down. I pulled a chair over and sat right in front of him.

"Here are the rules," I said, tapping the pen on my clipboard. "Rule number one: You do exactly what I tell you to do, when I tell you to do it. Rule number two: We start every single morning at five o'clock. We do three hours of water therapy, two hours of deep tissue massage, and four hours of painful stretching. You will sweat. You will feel pain. But you will not complain."

Ciro’s jaw locked tight. He did not like being told what to do. He was used to everyone bowing down to him.

He suddenly grabbed the wheels of his chair and pushed forward hard.

He rolled in so close that my knees were pressed tightly between his thick thighs. I could not move.

Even sitting down, Ciro was massive. He leaned his heavy upper body forward. He invaded my personal space, completely surrounding me with his heat and his woodsy scent.

"Do you know who you are talking to?" Ciro whispered. His voice was a low, deadly rumble that vibrated right through my chest.

My skin burned everywhere his legs touched. My body wanted to melt into him, but my mind refused to lose this fight.

I did not move an inch. I did not blink.

I stared right back into his burning bronze eyes. I let him see all my anger and all my stubborn pride.

"I am talking to my patient," I whispered back, keeping my voice totally flat. "And if my patient wants to play soccer again, he will follow my schedule. Or he can fire me right now.

Make your choice, Ciro."

The room was quiet. Outside, the storm crashed against the thick glass windows, but inside, the air was entirely still.

We stared at each other in a fierce, silent battle. He was trying to break me. I was refusing to break.

Then, something shifted in Ciro’s eyes.

A slow, wicked smile spread across his handsome face. He did not pull away. Instead, he leaned in a tiny bit closer.

"You are completely fearless," Ciro murmured.

"Fine, doctor. You make the rules in this room. We start at five in the morning."

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. I had won. I had set my boundary, and he had agreed to it.

"Good," I said, my voice shaking just a little bit. "Then I need to check your swelling before we sleep."

I reached my hands down to unlock the heavy metal brace on his right leg.

But right as my fingers touched the cold metal, the bright white lights in the medical room flickered.

The lights flashed once. Twice. Then, the entire room went completely, dark.

The heavy hum of the air conditioner stopped. The whole house lost power.

Before either of us could speak, a slow, heavy scraping sound echoed from the dark corner of the room. It sounded like a wet boot dragging across the clean floor.

Someone else was in the medical room with us.