Stranger in my Ass-Chapter 236

Kira’s POV

The hospital waiting room was cold and lonely, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead like angry insects.

I sat in a plastic chair, still wearing my torn, blood-stained clothes, my hands shaking uncontrollably.

Damien had been in surgery for three hours.

Three hours of not knowing if he was alive or dead. Three hours of imagining the worst. Three hours of reliving that moment - the gunshot, the blood, the way he’d collapsed.

An officer had stayed with me, asking questions I could barely answer through my shock.

Yes, we’d been kidnapped. Yes, they’d discovered I was a woman. Yes, Damien had tried to protect me.

No, I didn’t know how the police had found us so quickly.

Apparently, Damien’s security team - another team I didn’t know about - had a tracker embedded in his watch. The moment his vital signs indicated distress, they’d activated it and alerted local authorities.

If not for that tracker, we’d both be dead.

The surgery doors finally opened.

A doctor emerged, still in his scrubs, pulling off his mask.

I was on my feet immediately. "How is he?"

"Mr. Wellington is stable. The bullet missed his major organs, but there was significant internal bleeding. We were able to repair the damage." The doctor’s expression was serious. "He’s very lucky. Another inch to the right and he wouldn’t have survived."

My knees almost gave out. "Can I see him?"

"He’s in recovery now. Still unconscious from the anesthesia. But yes, once he’s moved to a room, you can see him."

I nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.

Two hours later, they finally let me into his room.

Damien looked wrong in the hospital bed. Too pale. Too still. Tubes and wires connected him to various machines, monitoring his heartbeat, his oxygen levels, his life.

I pulled a chair up beside the bed and took his hand in mine.

"You’re an idiot," I whispered. "A complete and total idiot. Fighting three armed men for me. Getting shot for me." Tears started falling before I could stop them. "Why didn’t you just let them have me. You could have died."

His hand was warm in mine. Alive.

"I’m sorry," I continued through my tears. "I’m sorry I wasn’t better at my job. I’m sorry I let them take us. I’m sorry I lied to you. I’m sorry you had to..."

"Stop."

The word was barely audible, rough with pain.

My head snapped up. "Damien?"

His eyes were open - barely, just slits - but they were focused on me.

"Not. Your. Fault." Each word seemed to cost him effort.

"Yes, it is. I’m your bodyguard. I’m supposed to protect you, and instead..."

"Kira." My real name on his lips made me freeze. "Stop. Talking."

He squeezed my hand weakly.

"You... knew?" I asked quietly.

"Always. Knew." His eyes closed again. "From. Day. One."

"Then why did you let me..."

"Wanted. You. There." His breathing was labored.

I stared at him, trying to process his words through my exhaustion and relief.

"Rest," I told him. "We’ll talk when you’re better."

"Stay."

"I’m not going anywhere."

"Promise."

"I promise."

His hand relaxed in mine as he drifted back to sleep.

And I sat there, holding his hand, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Damien Wellington had known I was a woman all along.

And he’d almost died protecting me anyway.

What the hell did that mean?

********

Olivia’s POV

"You. I thought about you."

I stepped back, "What do you mean by that?"

"I thought about..." He took a step closer, and I could see the emotion flickering across his face - they looked real. "About how wrong I’ve been toward you. How rude I’ve been. How terrible." Another step. "How I’ve treated you like you meant nothing."

"Maxwell..." I took another step back.

"I need to apologize." His voice cracked slightly, and I’d never heard that before. Never heard Maxwell Wellington sound vulnerable. "I need to start over. Make things right."

He kept advancing, slow and deliberate, and I kept moving back, my heart hammering.

"I’ve been horrible to you, Olivia. From the moment we met - or re-met - I’ve been cruel and cold and..." He winced, whether from pain or emotion I couldn’t tell. "I can’t die without apologizing. Without trying to fix this."

"Stop," I said, my hand coming up to press against his bare chest. His skin was warm under my palm, his heartbeat steady and strong. "Just stop moving. You’re going to hurt yourself."

He stopped immediately, but his eyes never left mine.

"Are you serious about this?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "About wanting to start over? Start anew?"

"Yes." The word came out fierce, certain. "After last night, after thinking I might not make it back to tell you..." He swallowed hard. "I can’t keep living like this. I’ve done so many wrongs, Olivia. To you. To others. I want to turn over a new leaf. Be better. Be the person I should have been all along."

There was something in his voice that made my chest ache.

Maxwell Wellington was apologizing. Actually, genuinely apologizing.

And he looked so sincere, so raw, standing there shirtless with his bandaged torso and his pale face and his eyes full of things I’d never seen before.

I watched him struggle to stay on his feet, saw him wince as the movement pulled at his stitches.

"Come on." I took his arm gently. "You need to sit down before you collapse again."

I led him to the bed, helping him ease down onto the mattress. He sat on the edge, breathing carefully, and I found myself sitting beside him.

Close enough to feel the heat radiating from his skin. Close enough to smell his cologne mixed with antiseptic.

"So." He turned to look at me, and there was something almost shy in the gesture. "Will you let us start over? Can we try again?"

I stared at him, shocked. Maxwell Wellington - arrogant, impossible, infuriating Maxwell Wellington - was asking for a second chance.

And looking genuinely afraid I might say no.

"I..." I felt a smile tugging at my lips despite everything. "I’d love that."

"Yeah?" Hope flickered across his face.

"Yeah. We can stop all the banter. All the games. Just... be normal with each other."

"You’re sure?" He searched my face. "You’re really sure?"

"I’m sure."

"So we can be friends?" The word seemed to cost him something, but he said it anyway.

I nodded, happiness bubbling up unexpectedly. "Friends. Yes. We can be friends."

"Great." His smile was genuine, beautiful even. "That’s... great. I know we started on the wrong path. Really wrong. But I want us to forget all that. All of it. Start completely fresh."

"I agree."

Silence fell between us, but it was different now. Not heavy or uncomfortable. Just... quiet.

I found myself hyperaware of how close we were sitting. Of the way our knees almost touched. Of the rise and fall of his bandaged chest.

How did new friends kick it off? What did people talk about?

Think, Olivia. Think of a good conversation starter.

Then I remembered - our unfinished conversation about our childhood. Kennedy had refused to tell me, but maybe now that Maxwell and I were friends, he’d be open to sharing.

"Can I ask you something?" I said.

"Anything."

"About our childhood. About..." I hesitated. "Was there someone you loved back then? Someone special?"

Maxwell’s expression shifted, something unreadable flickering across his face. "What about you and Gabriel?" he asked, deflecting smoothly. "How are things going with you two? Enjoying your vacation?"

I kept quiet, recognizing the deflection for what it was. He didn’t want to talk about childhood memories. Not yet.

But now that we were friends, I’d definitely bring it up again. Eventually.

"Yeah," I said finally. "Gabriel and I are great."

"Are you sure?" He was watching me intently now, his gaze sharp despite the lingering pain in his eyes.

"Of course I’m sure."

"Then why aren’t you sharing a hotel room?"

The question caught me off guard. "What?"

"You and Gabriel. If things are so great, why the separate rooms?"

"We wanted to start things slow," I blurted out. "Not encroach on each other’s space too quickly."

"Right." Maxwell’s voice was flat. "Slow."

"What?"

"Nothing. Just..." He turned to face me fully, and the intensity in his gaze made my breath catch. "If I was dating you, I’d never let you have a separate room. Or a separate bed."

The air between us suddenly felt thick, charged.

"Maxwell..."

"I’d want you close. All the time. Every moment." His voice had dropped lower, rougher. "I’d want to fall asleep with you in my arms and wake up with you beside me. I’d want..."

The door burst open.

Kennedy practically stumbled in, his face flushed. "There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Liv. I didn’t expect you to be in Maxwell’s room."

I stood up quickly, putting distance between Maxwell and myself. "My room was messed up. With all the blood. I needed the hotel staff to clean it before I could go back there, so I came here instead..."

"Kira just called me," Kennedy interrupted, and something in his voice made my heart stop. "She’s been trying to reach you. Olivia, they were kidnapped. She and Damien. And Damien was shot. He’s in the hospital."

The world tilted.

"What?" I couldn’t process the words. "Kidnapped? Shot?"

"Damien?" Maxwell was on his feet instantly, all traces of weakness vanishing. "My brother is in the hospital? What the fuck happened?"

"I don’t have all the details. Kira was crying, barely coherent. But they’re at a hospital in New Delhi. Damien’s in surgery."

"I’m going." Maxwell was already moving toward the door, one hand pressed to his bandaged side. "I need to get there. Now."

"Maxwell, you can’t travel like this..." I started.

"I said I’m going."

"I’m coming too." I grabbed my phone. "Kira is my best friend. I can’t believe she went through that trauma alone. I need to be there."

Kennedy looked between us. "Both of you are insane. Maxwell, you just got stabbed. Olivia..."

"I don’t care." I was already heading for the door. "Book the flights, Kennedy. Private jet, commercial, I don’t care. We’re going to New Delhi."

"We’re taking my jet." Maxwell said behind me.