Chapter Three

Not edited or proofread.

Novella

This bed was not mine.

My eyes snapped open, and I stared up at the tiled ceiling above me. The rapid beeping of a monitor reached my ears. My fingers twitched against the sterile blanket covering me. The scent of disinfectant burned my nostrils.

Panic squeezed my throat, preventing air from reaching my lungs and constricting my chest. A pained whine ripped from my parted lips, and I felt hot tears streak down my cheeks.

I wasn't supposed to be in a hospital. Hospitals were off-limits. Doctors and nurses and social workers asked too many questions. Cops would be called for a potential domestic violence victim.

Dexter was going to be so mad. Why was I in a hospital? I hadn't called 9-1-1, had I? I wouldn't have. I would've preferred to die on that floor than ever have Dexter kill me because I'd broken the number one rule.

"Novella," a deep voice rumbled before a familiar face peered down at me. Long, tattooed fingers sifted through my red hair, and a thumb stroked the freckles along my cheekbones. "You're safe, baby girl. I promise. He can't touch you. Never fucking again."

Axel Legend. A criminal. A billionaire. He practically owned the entire goddamn city. And he was a man to be feared.

Yet he was standing over my hospital bed, his fingers and thumb working over my scalp and my cheek, soothing me. His eyes were soft—gentle. The hard lines of his face I was used to seeing had also softened.

Axel Legend was comforting me.

"Dexter will—"

Axel shook his head, his black wavy hair swishing with the movement. "Dexter isn't going to do a fucking thing to you, Novella. I promise. You're under my protection now."

I licked my lips, and reached up, swiping at my damp cheeks. He only moved his thumb long enough for me to wipe the tears away before he was stroking over my freckles again. I wanted so badly to lean into his touch, but I was wary, too. Nervous. Confused.

Axel Legend wasn't a soft man, and he didn't do anything without expecting it to be repaid. I had no money to give him. I had nothing. Dexter had made sure I was nothing without him.

"How..." I croaked.

"I found you," Axel said. His jaw tightened, anger burning in his eyes. His hold tightened on me, but not once did I feel afraid. Instead, I felt... protected. It was odd. Knowing what this man was capable of doing with the same hand he was holding my head with didn't frighten me in the slightest. "You were unconscious. Covered in vomit. You've been beaten black and blue, Novella."

"It's not the first time," I whispered, casting my gaze down to the white blanket covering me.

"It will be the last," he snapped, his thumb pressing into my cheek. I glanced up at him, the vehemence in his voice surprising me. Axel wasn't the kind of man to ever lose his composure, but that right there—that'd been a slip. For me. Over me.

"I still have to go back home—"

"Your home is now with me," Axel interrupted. "I have a room already being set up for you." I stared at him, surprised and a bit confused. "You will not be returning to Dexter's, and all contact with him will cease immediately."

My head was spinning. So much was happening, and my brain was throbbing. I closed my eyes and rested my head back against the pillow. This was all too much.

"My things..." I murmured.

Axel hummed. "Do not worry about any of that, Novella. Focus on resting." A knock sounded on the door before it cracked open. I spotted Harlan, Axel's bodyguard, standing outside of the room as a doctor and nurse walked in, smiling kindly at me. I stiffened, but Axel just gently shushed me, his fingers moving through my hair again.

"It's good to see you awake, Novella. You've been unconscious for quite a while now," the doctor informed me. "How are you feeling?"

I shrugged. "My head hurts," I admitted.

He nodded. "That's to be expected. You've got a minor concussion. The headache will persist for a few days, but I'll prescribe you some ibuprofen to take at home." He set his tablet on the end of the bed and stuffed his hands in his white lab coat. "The good news is that nothing is broken or fractured. You're expected to make a full recovery, young lady. I had to give you stitches in your eyebrow, but other than that, everything is okay. The bruising will clear up in a few weeks. But you're good to go home."

Home.

I glanced up at Axel. He met my gaze, his dark eyes steady on mine.

"You ready to go home, baby?"

There was that name again. And I hated that my heart clung to it like a lifeline. I was so desperate for someone to love me. It was pitiful, really. Every man I'd ever trusted had turned out to be a piece of shit. The only constant person I'd had was Kyle, and he was locked up in a federal prison for killing our parents after he found our dad raping me.

I'd been alone for so goddamn long.

"I can't pay you back for this," I whispered so only he could hear me.

A small smile tilted his lips, and my heart skipped a beat in my chest. The few times I'd seen Axel, I'd thought he had a deadly kind of beauty to him. But that smile—it was disarming. It had my soul melting like chocolate, ready to slide into all of his pores and burrow into his soul.

"You don't owe me a thing, Novella. All I want is for you to be safe. Can you do that?"

I slowly nodded my head. He looked at the doctor, and just like that, his face transformed back into the one I knew. The hardened criminal. The cutthroat billionaire. His face was hard, his eyes masked.

"We'd like the discharge papers," he announced.

~*~*~

The ride home was quiet. I sat on the seat beside Axel, his arm around my shoulders. I didn't hate it. I even liked it. And I felt safe. Like nothing in this world could touch me while he held me like this.

Harlan never said a word. He just sat in the front seat and watched the scenery pass through the window. When we got to Axel's estate—because it certainly wasn't just a fucking home—Axel led me inside, told someone to bring me up some hot chocolate and chocolate chip cookies, and then guided me up the stairs to what I assumed was now my room.

And how had he known that hot chocolate and chocolate chip cookies were my vice when I was stressed or worried or just needed comfort? How much more did Axel know about me?

"This is your room," Axel told me, releasing my elbow. I took it in. The furniture was done in dark tones, and a deep red comforter covered the bed along with a mountain of pillows I secretly couldn't wait to sink into. A laptop and eReader were resting on the nightstand. Axel grabbed my wrist and lifted my hand, placing a black credit card in my palm. "Take this and order everything you need or want—clothes, shoes, toiletries, etc. I've had a pair of my sweats and one of my shirts placed in your bathroom, and there's some travel-size toiletries in there to get you through today and tomorrow morning. Choose express shipping on everything you order so it gets here as fast as possible."

"I can't—" I blurted. This was too much. Way too much. Axel was... he was... he was being too damn nice to me. Too good. I didn't know what to do with that.

"You can, and you will," he interrupted me. My breath hitched in my throat when he cupped my bruised neck and pressed a tender kiss to my forehead. My eyes fluttered shut as I sank into his hold without a second thought. He let his lips linger before he stepped back. "If you need me, I'll be in my study. It's downstairs and down the hall to the right. I'll leave my door open for you."

And with that, he was gone, softly shutting my bedroom door behind him with a quiet click.

I sat on the edge of the bed, and with trembling hands, I grabbed the laptop and eReader. When I opened them up, my chest tightened. Both of them had been set up, and all of my stuff was there as if I'd owned these myself. Problem was, I hadn't owned a laptop since I was in high school, and I always read my ebooks on my phone.

No doubt, Axel had hacked into everything so he could have it all set up for me. And while him having such easy access to me and everything about me should've freaked me out, it did the exact opposite.

He cared. He cared enough to have this done for me.

And that... that meant something.

That meant a hell of a lot.