I clenched my jaw as my cock came back to life. “Yes. I remember where I am, who you are, and what we were doing before …”

Doctor Laine snorted. “Typical man. What did I tell you last night?”

When I didn’t respond, she stood upright and listed on her fingers. “No exercise, no stress, no sex, and under no circumstances, no strenuous activities such as heavy lifting.” Narrowing her eyes at the kitchen and discarded clothing leading toward the couch, she pursed her lips. “I think everything I told you not to do—you just did.” Planting her hands on her hips, she snapped, “Feel happier knowing you aren’t superman and should’ve listened to the woman you paid a fortune to ensure you heal?”

A grin tugged at my mouth. Who knew? The doc had a temper.

Cleo moved to sit beside me, patting my leg through the blanket she’d draped over me to protect my decency. “We won’t do it again, Doctor.”

My eyes snapped to hers. Like hell we won’t.

“No, you definitely won’t.” Doctor Laine wagged a finger in my face. “Because if you do, you might not get up again, or you might kill off more brain cells and wake up a completely different person.”

Ice water joined the rocks inside my head, freezing me solid.

Wallstreet would have a fucking fit if he knew what I’d done. The upcoming battle with my father was only half the war. The other half didn’t rely on fists and bullets but negotiation and public speaking.

I have to be personable and quick—not a fucking dim-witted buffoon.

How could I risk being such an idiot when my livelihood was on the line?

I shivered as Cleo gripped my thigh. Her fingers landed so damn close to my cock.

That’s why I played roulette with my brain. Her.

Buttercup was my Achilles’ heel—a witch who made me hot, hard, and so fucking weak.

Her green eyes flickered from me to the Doc. “Um, excuse me if I’m slow to catch up, but what do you mean? Kill more brain cells?”

I stiffened. “Nothing. She meant nothing.” Digging my hands into the soft cushions, I propelled myself upright. The room spun, but I deliberately kept the vertigo and throbbing pain from showing on my face. “Thank you, Doc. I feel ten times better and would like to get dressed.”

The doctor looked at me with far too much understanding in her gaze. She knew I was embarrassed, pissed, but, most of all, scared shitless that this seemingly simple thing had the power to strip me of everything I knew.

Is this how Cleo felt with amnesia?

I shook my head—that hurt far too much to even consider.

“Yes, thank you for coming again.” Cleo stood. Her face was gentle but her eyes burned with questions—no doubt preparing to spit them in my face the moment we were alone.

“I’ll see you out.” Planting my feet on the carpet, I tugged the blanket tighter around my waist.

“No, just stay there.” Doctor Laine pressed my shoulder. “Rest, remember?” Letting me go, she cocked her head toward the kitchen. “I’ve left some higher dose anti-inflammatories for you on the counter. Take four in the next twenty-four hours, then stop. They’ll destroy your stomach lining and you’ll have more problems to deal with if you don’t.”

I nodded. “Got it.”

Rolling her eyes, she nodded at Cleo. “If you need me again, you have my number on speed dial. Goodbye, Mrs. and Mr. Killian.”

Cleo flushed.

My heartbeat picked up, imagining an existence where we became irrevocably joined. My insatiable need to make it a reality almost had me dropping to a fucking knee right there.

With one last disapproving look, Doctor Laine disappeared briskly from the lounge and the faint click of the front door was the starting gun for Cleo’s impending tirade.

She spun around, her soft flush transforming to bright anger.

I tensed in preparation for her onslaught.

I waited …

Only, it never happened.

I glanced at her from the corner of my eye. My heart splintered as a single tear rolled down her cheek. “Ah, Buttercup … don’t.”

She swiped at her cheeks, backing away from the couch. “Don’t ‘Buttercup’ me.” Dragging hands through her lust-tangled hair, she bared her teeth. “You passed out while inside me, Arthur! Do you have any idea how terrifying that was? How scared I was when you wouldn’t wake up? How much I screamed when I had to roll you off me and felt you slip out of me like you were dead?”

She wrapped her arms around herself, trembling. “It was awful! And what’s worse—it was all my fault!”

I sat forward, clutching my head in my hands. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes, it was. You wanted to stop. You kept trying to go slow and I forced you.”

My own temper unfurled. “This isn’t about you, Cleo. I knew better, but I have no fucking control when it comes to you.”

“See, my fault again!” A sob existed behind her sharpness.

Standing, I moved toward her. I had to hold her. Had to apologize. Holding out my hand, I murmured, “I’m sorry.”

She stumbled away. “What is going on with you? Why won’t you tell me?” Taking a shaky breath, her voice turned cold. “I’ll tell you why. Because you’re pigheaded and arrogant and think you’re invincible. You’ve hidden your pain all your life. You never trusted me to help you.”

Her face twisted but she didn’t break down. “Well, newsflash for you, Killian. You are mine. If you’re not well, I need to know. If you’re keeping things from me, I deserve to be informed. Now that you’re awake, I need … I need some time alone. I can’t deal with your secrets anymore.”

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