Page 32 of Sinful Hearts

One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.

I’m caught off guard when he grips my shoulders, turns me to face Leo, and shoves me toward him. I hiccup at the feel of his heavy chest against my back again and inhale the scent of his cologne.

Reaching around me, Emilio smacks Leo’s side—right on his wound.

“You fucking asshole,” Leo screams.

“You say one more negative thing about my marriage, and I’ll add another stab wound,” Emilio warns him.

Leo does his best to flip off Emilio in response.

“Stitch him the fuck up, Liliya,” Emilio hisses in my ear.

“Apologize first.” I stare straight ahead, refusing to look back at him.

“What the fuck?!” Leo screams in agony. “I’m dying over here, in case anyone forgot!”

Emilio grabs a fistful of my hair. “Fuck off with that attitude and help him.”

I shake my head, trying my best to ignore the slight sting of pain when he pulls on my strands. “Apologize, or he bleeds out.”

“I’ll pay for the fucking counseling!” Leo yells. “Isn’t this against some HIPAA bullshit? I thought you nurses had a duty to help!”

“HIPAA is privacy, idiot,” Julian comments.

Leo tries to pull himself up. “Hand me the fucking first-aid kit then.” He crouches in pain, sweat dripping down his forehead as the bleeding worsens. “I’ll stitch myself up.”

“You’re going to let a man die?” Emilio challenges. “His blood will be on your hands.”

I shake my head. “No, it’ll be onyours. He’s notmyman. Not my friend.”

“Well, that’s pretty fucking rude,” Leo grunts as Damien opens the first-aid kit. “I’m taking back my wedding gift. No fucking panini maker for you.”

“You think I care about blood on my hands?” Emilio asks coldly.

No, I don’t think he does.

But unfortunately for me, I do have a heart.

Unlike him, I have compassion. Apology or no apology, I won’t watch Leo suffer without trying to help.

“Fine.” I swat at his hand on my hair.

He releases me, stepping back.

I turn to stab my finger in his face. “But this isn’t for you.”

“Obviously. I’m not the one stabbed,” he comments as I roll up my pajama sleeves.

Damien steps out of my way, giving me the space I need.

“First-aid kit,” I say, waving my fingers forward.

Damien drops it beside me.

Everyone watches as I cut Leo’s shirt to get a better view of the wound and collect the supplies I need. I can feel Emilio’s eyes on me with every move I make.

A wave of guilt washes over me at the realization of how much blood Leo has lost. I shouldn’t have spent time arguing with Emilio.