Chapter 418
[ 569 words ]
Chapter 418:
Before she could hit the floor, Jarrod was there. Despite the agonizing toll on his own injured frame, he managed to catch her, breaking her fall and lowering her safely to the floor. He knelt beside her, his braced arm and broken fingers making it impossible to lift her, so he pulled her securely into his lap, cradling her head against his chest. He signaled for the medical staff, his eyes locked on her pale face as he kept her sheltered in his arms, waiting for the team to rush to their aid.
Jarrod signaled for the medical staff to take over, his face a mask of cold, controlled fury as he watched them stabilize the woman in his arms. He stood back, his right arm remaining locked in its protective field splint against his ribs, while his shattered left hand hung useless and swollen, throbbing in rhythm with his rapid heartbeat.
He was heading for the elevators when Dr. Julian Croft hurried to catch up, blocking his path.
“Colonel Romero,” Julian said, his voice tight with professional concern. “She needs to be admitted for observation. She’s suffered a major psychological trauma. Her physical state is unstable.”
Jarrod stopped. He looked at Julian, and his eyes were chips of ice. “Dr. Croft, what my wife needs right now is not observation. It is quiet.”
His gaze dropped for a fraction of a second to Caroline’s pale, tear-streaked face. When he looked back at Julian, his voice was flat, absolute, and stripped of all warmth.
“And she is my wife.”
The words were a declaration of ownership, a statement of legal and moral authority that was utterly unchallengeable. Julian was silenced. He could only watch, helpless, as Jarrod signaled for his security team. Two of his men stepped forward, carefully lifting Caroline from his side to carry her toward the elevator, as Jarrod’s injuries precluded any attempt to carry her himself.
As the doors began to slide shut, Jarrod’s eyes met Donovan’s for a split second. Donovan was still standing in the doorway of the room, a hollowed-out shell of a man.
The elevator began its descent. Jarrod immediately pulled out his phone with his uninjured hand. “K.C.,” he said, his voice a low command. “Handle all of Mrs. Thompson’s arrangements. Top level. Utmost privacy. I don’t want Caroline’s name anywhere near the press.”
𝗡𝗲𝘄 𝘄𝗲𝗲𝗸𝗹𝘆 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗼𝗻 𝗴𝗮𝗹𝗻𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹𝘀.𝗰𝗼𝗺
He was already managing the fallout, building a wall of security around her grief.
He didn’t take her back to the dorm. The car sped through the city, heading for the iron gates of the Romero estate. Upon arrival, he gestured to the security detail to assist her into the house. He walked through the grand foyer, past the worried face of the housekeeper, Agnes Petrenko, his gait stiff and careful to avoid jostling his damaged limbs.
“Prepare some broth and warm water,” was all he said before ascending the sweeping staircase.
He watched as his men laid her gently on the massive bed in the master suite, a room she had never been in before. He carefully gestured for them to remove her shoes and pull the soft, heavy duvet over her. He sat on the edge of the bed for a long time, watching her. He could not perform the delicate task of cleaning her face himself, so he signaled for Agnes to approach. The housekeeper stepped forward, using a warm, damp cloth to gently wipe the tear tracks from Caroline’s face.
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