Chapter 40.

Chapter 40.
Leo's POV.

I was about to leave her room, slightly demotivated by her words, unsure whether I should say anything further. Luckily, she spoke again, and thank God I turned to give her a reply. I saw something—a shimmering light in the distance—getting closer, faster in seconds. I approached her again, intending to get a better view of what was coming toward her window, and just as I reached her, the window shattered to pieces. She turned to view the chaos, but I didn’t let her; I pushed her aside, and she fell hard to the floor. Simultaneously, the ground vibrated with the explosion that had just hit it. Instinctively, I lay above her, shielding her body with mine.

“Are you alright?” I asked, but her eyes were unfocused and her brain was still reeling from shock.

Soon, her eyes widened in horror as she gazed at me. “You’re… you…” she stammered, her hand brushing against my left eyebrow. I winced in pain as her fingers grazed the area.

“You have a shard of glass stuck in your eyebrow,” she finally pronounced.

“It’s okay,” I tried to reassure her.

“No, it’s not,” she countered, fear radiating from her.

She attempted to stand, but I pressed her back down. “Not yet… there might be a confirmation attack,” I explained.

“Confirmation attack?” She looked confused.

“A professional assassin doesn’t launch an attack once; they launch two times— the designated attack and the confirmation attack.”

As soon as the last word left my mouth, another explosion hit. The walls and floor trembled, and I covered Lexi with my body.

The whole room filled with smoke, everything in chaos. Suddenly, someone burst through the door, and it was that motherfucking colleague of hers. “Lexi!!” He screamed.

“Over here!!” Lexi cried from beneath me.

I got off her, and she rose to her feet. The bastard rushed to her and hugged her tightly. “Are you alright?” He pulled away, searching her face with worried eyes.

“I’m fine, thanks to him,” she replied, glancing at me. 

“Let’s get out of here,” I urged, looking at the smoke and flames creeping closer. Grabbing her hand, we rushed out of the room as firemen entered swiftly to put out the blaze.

The hotel's management and the conference's management rushed over to us. “Oh my God,” a woman gasped. “You need immediate treatment, sir," she insisted.

"I'm good," I replied nonchalantly.

"No, you're not," Lexi countered, grabbing my hand with determination. “And you’re coming with me.” She tugged me along.

“Lexi, really, I’m okay,” I tried to assure her, but her fierce grip on my wrist spoke volumes. 

I couldn’t help but smile at her worried demeanor; she reminded me of a worried mother dragging her defiant son to the doctor. It was oddly endearing. “Where are we heading, anyway? I hope it’s not the hospital,” I asked, silently bracing myself for her reaction.

“Where else if not there?” she replied, practically pulling me along.

“Lexi…” I started, but she cut me off.

“We don’t have a choice, Leo, I can’t handle this,” she said, her voice tinged with worry.

Wait...did she just call me Leo?

“Did you just call me Leo?” I asked, surprised.

Her eyes flickered down shyly at the realization, and a slight blush crept across her cheeks. She looked so cute in that moment that my heart did a little flip and I just wanted to kiss her. 

I gently raised her chin so she was looking straight at me. “It’s alright, I love it. I’ve been looking forward to the day you’d finally address me informally instead of the usual 'Leonardo, the infamous criminal' way you call me.”

She brushed my hand away with mock arrogance. “Who said it wasn’t alright? I just didn’t want my speech to be longer. That’s why I used Leo,” she huffed.

“And don’t think anything otherwise, there’s nothing attached,” she added quickly, but I chuckled at her excuse. She always had a reason for every tender gesture she showed me.

“Let’s go,” she said, pulling on my arm, but I stood my ground, reclaiming her hand.

“What?” she asked.

“Didn’t we discuss this? No hospitals,” I replied firmly.

“Leo…” she began, her voice edged with frustration.

“Please,” I interjected, my tone softer than before.

After a long, heavy sigh, she finally relented. “Alright... but what if the cut needs stitches, I don't know how to do that."

She was right though.

"There won't be any need for that," I replied, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

"No, let's not risk it," she countered firmly.

"Please," she added, her voice dropping to a pleading whisper.

With the sincerity of her plea weighing heavily on me, I reluctantly nodded. "Fine," I agreed, and her face lit up with a smile.

"However, it won't be a hospital," I added, bracing myself for her reaction. 

Her smile faltered, and disappointment washed over her features. "You just agreed," she said, her voice filled with mixed emotions.

"I can't stand hospitals. I can’t stand medical practitioners, remember?" I emphasized, frustration creeping into my tone.

"But for your sake, I'll try to manage standing one. That's why I’ll call a doctor to come over here," I explained, determination lacing her words.

“That's going to take time," she countered. "The wound might get infected before the doctor arrives."

"So I have a better idea. Pharmacists often know what to do in situations like this, and I happened to see a pharmacy on my way to the hotel a few days ago."

Rolling my eyes with a frustrated sigh, I finally relented, following her to the pharmacy, which, fortunately, wasn’t too far.

As we entered the pharmacy, the pharmacist flinched upon seeing me. "L…L…Leonardo?" he stammered, eyes wide with recognition.

"Yes, it’s me, Leonardo. Nice to meet you," I smirked.

"Please, sir, can you help us out?" Lexi interjected, stepping between us, her urgency palpable.

"He needs urgent treatment," she stated, pointing to the cut above my left brow.

"B…but…ma’am, shouldn’t you have taken him to the hospital?" he asked, clearly rattled.

"Yes, but that’s why we’re here instead," I chimed in. "Can you fix it…my eyebrow?" 

"I can try," he replied, still looking wary.

"Don't try; fix it, or it's goodbye for you," I warned, my tone half-joking but edged with seriousness, as I noticed him swallow hard.

"Y-yes," he nodded. 

He quickly shut the door and drew down the window blinds, ensuring the whole place was covered. Leading us into a room, he disappeared, likely to gather what he needed to patch me up.

In the silence that followed, Lexi suddenly slapped my arm.

"Ow!" I feigned pain, rubbing the spot she’d hit. "What was that for?"

"Why did you threaten the pharmacist?" she shot back, her eyes narrowing.

"Threaten him? How?" I feigned ignorance, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't try, fix it, or else it’s goodbye for you,’" she mimicked, clearly upset. "Isn't that a threat?"

"It wasn’t a threat, baby; I was just making sure he understood his job right," I retorted, but the glare she shot me told me she wasn’t buying it.

Just then, the pharmacist returned with a box and began arranging supplies on the table. As he donned his gloves, he approached me with a nervous expression. "I'll begin now, sir," he said.

I nodded in response, and he got to work. As he carefully pulled the glass shard from my eyebrow, a sharp pain radiated through my head. I glanced at Lexi, only to see her gaze fixed elsewhere, her eyes averted, don't know why. 

My attention shifted to her hands, which she was nervously fidgeting with. I finally understood why—she couldn’t stand the sight of all this. 

I reached out and touched her hand, and she flinched, turning back to me with wide eyes. "It’s okay... I’m fine," I cooed reassuringly.

"Blood..." she whispered, her glance flicking to my cut for just a moment. "Please, stop the bleeding," she urged the pharmacist, her voice shaking slightly.

I squeezed her hands gently, offering her a reassuring smile while holding her gaze. The pharmacist examined the wound. "It’s deep," he said, and I could feel the flicker of fear in Lexi's eyes—the worry etched on her face was hard to miss.

I knew there were no romantic feelings behind her concern, perhaps just a generalized empathy for anyone in my position, but it warmed my heart all the same. My heart raced as I absorbed her worry.

The pharmacist began suturing the cut on my brow with careful precision, but I couldn’t help but notice how she flinched each time the needle pierced my skin. "So the fierce and tough CIA agent can't stand blood," I teased, trying to lighten the mood despite my discomfort.

"I can stand my own blood, but someone else's is a different story," she replied. Her vulnerability tugged at my heart, and I could tell how much this unsettled her.

As the pharmacist continued his work, tension crackled in the air between us. I noticed her biting her lip, her fists clenched tightly in her lap—her way of battling her distress. I longed to ease her worried mind, to tell her that I would be just fine, but the pain was all too real, and the gravity of the situation loomed over us like a storm cloud.

“Hey,” I said softly, squeezing her hand gently, trying to anchor her. “Look at me.”

There was a pause, a moment when the world around us seemed to fade. Finally, when our eyes met, I saw a flicker of something in her gaze that settled my growing anxiety. “I’m really okay. Just a little glass in my eyebrow, right? It’s practically a fashion statement,” I joked, injecting humor into an otherwise grim moment.

But her expression only darkened, brows furrowing with concern. “You shouldn’t joke about this, Leo. This isn’t funny,” she whispered, her frustration tinged with worry.

"Alright, alright," I chuckled, attempting to brush it off as the pharmacist finished his work.

“It's done,” he announced, stepping back and releasing us both from our tense bubble.

"Oh, thank you!" Lexi breathed, relief flooding her voice.

The pharmacist launched into a detailed explanation of aftercare, but I found it hard to focus. My gaze was captured by Lexi's face, absorbing every detail—the way her lips pressed together, the slight crinkle of her brow; she was beautiful, even amidst the chaos.

"You're all fixed, let's go," she said, abruptly pulling me back into the moment. 

As we exited the pharmacy, I could sense her mind wandering, the gears turning behind those bright eyes. "What's wrong?" I asked, concerned.

“Just thinking about the explosion,” she replied, her voice low and serious.

"Who would do it? Who's after my life?" She wondered.

"Maybe they're after mine," I suggested.

"You?" She creased her brows. 

"Or maybe..." I looked at her. "Maybe they're after your life because of me, just to get me." I added.