"Matteo..." she whimpered again, her hand twitching toward him before falling back to the mattress.
The sound of his name, spoken with such raw vulnerability, finally broke the trance.
He didn't care about Rome, he didn't care about Dylan Miller, and he didn't care about the bitter insults they had traded.
He moved with a quiet, terrifying efficiency. He didn't turn on the overhead lights, he didn't want the brightness to startle her further.
He simply reached down and scooped her up, sheets and all. She was terrifyingly light, her skin radiating a dry heat that told him this wasn't just a period, it was a collapse.
He set her down gently on the closed toilet lid, his hand behind her neck to keep her upright as she slumped.
He turned on the faucet of the massive, freestanding tub, testing the temperature until it was lukewarm.
He didn't want to shock her system further with heat.
