Page 40 of Morally Black Betrothal

“And you still came in to volunteer?” It made no sense. She obviously needed rest. They could have done without her for a day.

She blinked, like she hadn’t even considered the alternative. “My shifts are important to me. If I can come, I do.”

“I see.”

And I did. Sort of.

All my life, my old man had hammered home the inarguable fact that “time was money.” The thought of volunteering to do something out of the kindness of his heart alone would never occur to him.

Once upon a time, I’d had interests beyond Blackguard. Even ones that didn’t benefit me at all. Maybe I could have been that kind of person, but decades of living in this family had rendered me a lost cause.

Now, though, I was fighting to urge to cradle this girl against my chest, stroke her hair, and whisper “rest, baby” until she fell asleep in my arms.

As if moving of its own volition, my other hand lifted to touch her cheek. Simone’s mouth fell open, but she didn’t move as I cupped her cheek and drew my thumb over her satin skin, then over her upper lip.

“Angel,” I murmured.

Simone swallowed, but she didn’t move. It was as if she were stuck in place as much as I was.

I felt like two people: one Brendan Black was standing in this doorway, stroking a girl’s face as an act of worship. The other Brendan Black was about to collapse in shock.

What the fuck was happening to me?

“Brendan! Where the fuck did you go?”

Simone and I sprang apart like guilty teenagers and both turned toward my father, who had just woken from his catnap.

“Feeling better?” I asked as I walked back in.

“Did you get the nurse for the tests?” His voice was hoarse, as if he’d been shouting in his sleep. “I told you I want to get the fuck out of here.”

“Dad, calm down. They’ll release you when you’re ready.” I ignored the fact that I hadn’t done the very thing he’d asked.

“What the fuck is wrong with these people? They can’t sign some goddamn papers? Why is this taking hours? What are they giving me?”

“Actually, that’s fairly common, Mr. Black.”

Dad and I both turned toward Simone. She’d followed me right in, those pink scrubs a damn rose in the otherwise colorless room.

“In the meantime, it’s still good to rest while you wait. Your body is healing from such an extensive procedure,” she said as she came to stand on the other side of the hospital bed.

“And who the fuck are you?” Dad demanded. “Brendan, who the fuck is this?”

“Don’t talk to her that way,” I snapped right back. Just like that, The Black Prince was back.

“I’m Simone, Mr. Black.” Simone started picking up some random bits of detritus scattered on his tray. “I’m a volunteer at the hospital. I help keep patients comfortable while they are in recovery.”

“She also sat with you for four hours after your surgery,” I added.

“So you’re not a doctor? Not even a fuckin’ nurse?” He looked at me. “Will you explain to me why I have a twinkie who looks about fourteen dispensing unqualified medical advice?”

“Watch your fuckin’ tone,” I growled. “Or else I’ll watch it for you.”

“I’ll speak however I fuckin’ want.I’mthe one who had heart surgery, for fuck’s sake, not her.”

I bent down to stare at him, and a cold steel shell slid over my whole being. Usually, it was the mask I assumed when taking on a business adversary, the kind who wanted to test our family’s ruthlessness. Never my father.

And yet, I had no problem lowering that shield for a candy striper I barely knew.