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“I’m not worried about the money, Sleeping Beauty,” he says quietly, and I lift my head, meeting the swirling gold and green and brown depths of his eyes. I love hazel eyes, love how every set is unique, love how they change depending on what their owner is wearing.

“I have money,” I murmur. “I just…don’t have access to it right now.”

His gaze locks with mine and the air grows taut. “We’ll get into why that is later. For now, let’s focus on the best way to help you, yeah?”

His tone is…

I can’t get a read on it—and that’s terrifying because I’ve spent so much time and mental energy over the last years honing my abilities to do just that. Being hyperaware, searching for any avenue that would trigger the rage, tiptoeing around his moods.

“Are you mad?” I can’t stop myself from asking.

His eyes flash and I shrink back into the mattress.

Definitely mad.

But his gentle hold on my hand doesn’t change, doesn’t tighten, doesn’t hurt as he says, “Fuck, yeah, I’m mad. Real men don’t scare women, don’t isolate them, and they sure as fuck don’t make it so they flinch away just because someone is pissed.” He bends slightly, leaning closer, the golden swirls in his irises molten, his words growing even more intense. “And most importantly they don’t ever—fucking ever—lay their hands on a woman.”

The impact of those words…

Well, the beeping increasing on the monitor gives away how deeply they hit.

“You with me?” he says much more gently.

I inhale, forcing myself to do it steadily, easily. The beeping slows and I nod. “I’m with you.”

“Good,” he murmurs, fingers squeezing lightly around mine. “So, fill me in on the rest of it.”

The memory of that night, the push, the pain, the fear that came when Dylan told me he wanted to have a baby.

No, that we were going to have a baby.

The beeping increases.

“Right.” Hudson slips his hand from mine. “We can talk about that later. Let me grab my cell and call my team. We’ll come up with a game plan and go from there, yeah?”

I nod. “Thank you,” I whisper.

“In the meantime, let’s get you checked out by the nurse and doctor?—”

Beep-beep. Beep-beep. Beep-beep.

His eyes flick to the monitor and I watch a muscle flicker in his cheek.

Crap, I really need to get that thing turned off.

“I’ll stay close while that happens,” he promises, “and I won’t let them do anything that you’re not comfortable with or don’t want.”

They’re just words, could easily be empty promises.

But…I believe him.

And maybe it’s because I have no other choice but to believe him. Maybe I’m an idiot jumping from one bad situation and straight into another. Maybe this will all blow up in my face like so many other parts of my life have.

Maybe all of those are true.

More importantly, though, I know with absolute certainty that I can’t stay here, can’t keep going as I have with Dylan, can’t go back to that gilded cage, that plush mansion that may as well be the world’s worst prison.

I won’t continue to be here on this planet if I do.