Chapter 40: The Ice Melts Slowly
The erratic beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound filling the spacious master bedroom.
Agatha lay amidst a sea of now-rumpled silk sheets. Her face was no longer pale but ashen gray. Cold sweat continuously drenched her forehead, making her black hair limp and stick to her cheeks. Her body shivered violently, her teeth chattering even though the room heater was already turned on.
Dr. Pierre withdrew the IV needle with a slightly trembling hand, then turned to face Xavier, who stood stiffly in the corner of the room like an ice statue ready to explode.
"Speak," Xavier's voice was low, barely audible, but laden with threat.
Dr. Pierre swallowed hard and removed his mask. "Bacteria from the dirty water entered her bloodstream through the open wound. Her fever has reached 104 degrees. If it doesn't go down in the next six hours..."
"If it doesn't go down, then what?" Xavier cut in sharply.
"Her vital organs could start to fail. Her heart is weakening. She... she is fighting alone in there."
CRASH!
The crystal glass in Xavier's hand shattered into pieces from his own grip. Fresh blood dripped from his palm, mixing with the leftover wine, falling onto the expensive carpet. But Xavier didn't blink. The physical pain in his hand was nothing compared to the fear choking his throat as he watched his woman on the bed, motionless, trying to fight her illness.
"Get out," hissed Xavier.
"Sir, I have to monitor..."
"GET OUT!" Xavier snapped. "Leave the medicine. Let me take care of her. Your presence is only wasting oxygen in here."
Dr. Pierre nodded quickly, signaling the nurses to leave. The door closed tight, leaving behind a suffocating silence.
Xavier didn't bandage his bleeding hand. He walked over to the bed and sat on the edge.
He reached out and touched Agatha's cheek. Hot. Scalding hot, as if a fire were burning beneath her thin skin.
"Did you hear that old doctor, darling?" Xavier whispered hoarsely, bringing his face close to Agatha's ear. "He said you're fighting alone. Prove him wrong."
Agatha didn't answer. Her body suddenly spasmed slightly, and a soft whimper escaped her cracked lips.
"C... cold..." Agatha raved in her sleep. "Don't... don't leave me... dark... cold... take me away."
Xavier's heart sank. A memory from the past. Little Agatha shivering in the orphanage.
Without a second thought, Xavier kicked off his shoes. He climbed onto the bed and lay down beside Agatha. He pulled his shivering wife's body into his embrace, wrapping his arms and legs around her as if trying to shield her from the outside world.
"I'm here," Xavier whispered, gently stroking Agatha's back, trying not to touch the wound. "There is no snow. There is no cold. There is no darkness. There is only me."
Minutes turned into hours. Xavier didn't sleep. His eyes were fixed on Agatha's face, counting every one of his wife's breaths. He changed the compress cloth on Agatha's forehead every ten minutes, wiped the sweat from her slender neck with care, and whispered soothing words every time a nightmare made Agatha startle.
Slowly, dawn began to break. Warm light started to enter through the cracks in the curtains.
Agatha felt a heaviness on her eyelids. Her world was spinning. Her throat felt like she had swallowed shards of glass. But there was one thing that made her conscious, a warmth.
Not warmth from a blanket or a room heater. But a living warmth. Pulsing. Giving her a sense of safety.
Agatha opened her eyes slowly. The first thing she saw was Xavier, bare-chested, revealing his broad chest rising and falling rhythmically. The scent of musk and dried blood filled her senses. Xavier's scent.
Agatha looked up slightly. She saw her husband's face. Xavier was asleep in a sitting position leaning against the headboard, but his arms were still hugging Agatha tightly.
That handsome face looked messy. Dark circles under his eyes, a jaw covered in stubble because he hadn't shaved, and a forehead furrowed in sleep as if he were bearing the weight of the world.
Agatha's weak hand moved slowly, touching Xavier's rough jaw.
The touch, light as cotton, made Xavier jolt awake instantly. His red eyes immediately locked onto Agatha's hazel eyes.
"You're awake," Xavier's voice was hoarse, sounding incredibly relieved. He immediately pressed his hand to Agatha's forehead. "Your fever has gone down. My God..."
Xavier buried his face in the crook of Agatha's neck, letting out a long, trembling breath.
"I thought I lost you," Xavier mumbled against the skin of Agatha's neck. The vibration of his voice traveled to Agatha's chest.
Agatha fell silent. Her heart beat strangely. Not the adrenaline rush of killing people, but a beat that was painful yet sweet.
"Did you... take care of me all night again?" Agatha asked, her voice raspy and weak.
Xavier lifted his face, looking at Agatha with a burning intensity. "Did you think I could sleep while my wife was fighting for her life?"
"Your hand..." Agatha glanced at Xavier's right hand, which was full of cuts and dried blood. "Why?"
"Damn glass," Xavier answered indifferently. "Don't change the subject. How does it feel? Does it still hurt?"
"A little dizzy," Agatha answered honestly. She tried to sit up, but her body was too weak. She fell back against Xavier's chest.
Xavier caught her swiftly, adjusting the pillows so Agatha could lean back comfortably. He took a glass of water from the nightstand and put a straw to Agatha's mouth.
"Drink. Slowly."
Agatha drank greedily. Xavier wiped the remaining water from the corner of Agatha's lips with his thumb, the movement so gentle, contrasting with his reputation as a ruthless mafia king.
"Why are you doing this, Xav?" Agatha asked suddenly, looking into her husband's green eyes.
"Doing what? Giving you water?"
"Everything," Agatha looked around the luxurious room, then back at Xavier's tired face. "Stitching my wound, taking care of me. Sleeping while sitting just to hold me. This... this isn't in our marriage contract."
Xavier fell silent for a moment. He put the glass back on the nightstand. He leaned in, trapping Agatha with both arms.
"To hell with the contract," Xavier whispered. "Do you think I'm doing this because of that stupid paper?"
"Then why? Because I'm an expensive investment?" Agatha provoked, but this time there was no cynical tone in her voice. Only fragile doubt.
Xavier touched Agatha's left chest, right over her heart.
"Because when this heart stopped beating in the helicopter earlier... my heart felt like it stopped too, Agatha."
Agatha's breath hitched. She looked into Xavier's eyes, searching for a lie. But all she found was a naked and terrifying honesty.
"You..." Agatha swallowed hard. "You have feelings for me?"
Xavier smiled faintly, a tired but sincere smile. He didn't answer with words. He lowered his head and kissed Agatha's lips. Not a demanding or lust-filled kiss like before. This kiss was slow, warm, and full of gratitude. A kiss that said 'thank you for being alive'.
Agatha froze for a moment. The wall of ice she had built for years to protect her heart began to melt.
Slowly, Agatha's hand rose, wrapping around Xavier's neck. She returned the kiss, letting herself melt into the man's warmth.
When Xavier released the kiss, their foreheads were still touching.
"Rest again," Xavier whispered. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll be here when you wake up later."
"Xavier," Agatha called softly as Xavier was about to fix the blanket.
"Hm?"
"Thank you."
Xavier smiled, stroking Agatha's cheek with the back of his hand. "Sleep, my Little Rose."
Agatha closed her eyes. For the first time in her life full of blood and violence, she didn't feel alone.
Behind the pain of her wound, a new feeling blossomed in her chest. A feeling more dangerous than any bullet.
Seeds of love began to emerge for this devil holding her. And for the first time, she didn't want to run.