Chapter Twenty

Janna looked out the window but could see little beyond the gray drizzle of rain. She shrugged, figuring there probably wasn't much to see. A few bare roofs. The hospital parking lot. Nothing to get excited about. She lay back in her bed, picking up the remote control and shuffling through the channels again, for the fortieth time this hour.

The hospital had a bastardized form of cable that seemed dominated by sports channels, talk shows, and teenage angst-filled hour-long dramas. Basically the dregs of television. Although she'd only been forced to endure the confines of her hospital room for a day and a half, she didn't know if she could take it much longer. Janna finally threw the remote down in disgust.

"Nothing's on?" a familiar voice asked from the doorway. A half-smile lingered on Brice's lips as he entered, coming to stand next to her bed.

His teasing rubbed Janna the wrong way. When she'd seen the gun pointed at him, when she'd realized all the danger he'd taken upon himself, she tried to save him. She knew she still had deep feelings for the man, then.

Immediately after, he'd taken control of things, overriding any opposition. Brice had insisted on riding with her in the ambulance and then refused to leave her side through most of her examination and treatment. Now she sat here, an air cast boot on her injured leg, sixteen stitches sewed into her scalp, her sprained wrist in a sling, while the handsome millionaire strolled around making jokes.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, putting his hand under her chin and gently drawing her face around, making her meet his gaze. His green eyes were warm with concern.

"Fine," she said, pulling away from his grip and crossing her arms over her chest.

"Glad to hear it." He took a seat in the chair beside her bed. "You'll be getting out soon."

"Great." she picked up the remote again and flipped through channels. Although she wanted to get the heck out of the hospital, she alternatively wished that she could put off this conversation for as long as possible. There were too many feelings swirling around inside of her, too many to make sense of so quickly.

"In fact, the administrator will be coming around shortly with your discharge papers. That's why I wanted to talk to you now. I think you should come home with me."

"What?" Janna dropped the remote in surprise.

"You've suffered serious injuries, and I want to make sure you are taken care of."

"Brice, I appreciate the offer," she began, hoping the sarcasm was apparent in her tone, "but I have a life. I can't just move into your place. I'm going home."

"Home, to the closet you call a room? I had a look inside that co-op of yours, and I don't think it would be conducive to your healing. Too many stairs, not enough space, no peace and quiet. Besides, the press are probably staking it out right now, waiting for you to return and give them the dirty details of your abduction."

"That may be true," she grunted, "but it's close to campus, and I have to teach. I'm sure I can make it a few blocks on crutches if I give myself some extra time."

"It might be hard getting around on crutches with that sling on your arm. Besides, there's no need. I've talked to your advisor, and she's relieved you of your teaching duties for the remainder of the term. There's really no reason to stay at the co-op."

"You talked to my advisor? Without asking me first?"

"I figured it would be easier to deal with your objections before you could make them. And I want you to come home with me. I want to make sure you're taken care of."
Janna snorted. "Too bad you don't realize how presumptuous you are. Nothing's changed. I still feel the same way I did at breakfast the other morning. You can't take control of my life, not without my permission. And you don't have it."

"Janna," his voice was soft in reply. "Everything's changed. You were hurt, almost killed, by a member of my family. You're in the hospital for chrissakes. Why won't you let me help you?"

"Because you aren't offering help. You're taking a lot upon yourself without my even knowing about it. Just like you did with the security team."

Brice frowned and ran a hand through his wavy hair. "I'm sorry about that. I didn't want to scare you, not when you still had doubts about our relationship. I should have told you right away. I won't make that mistake again."

"You already have!" Janna burst out. "You've taken over my schedule, talked to my advisor, and now you want to dictate where I live! Don't you see, it's all the same thing. You can rearrange people's lives like pawns because you have the money and the influence. But some of us don't want to be pawns!"

"It's not like that!" She watched the color rise in his cheeks. "I just want what's best for you."

"What's best for me is not to be dragged into your warped lifestyle. I'm not cut out for it. I don't want to be in the news, on TV and blogs. I don't want to be called a gold digger, or have a security team watch my every move. I don't fit into your fancy fundraising parties, with bitches like Donna Goddard, and frenemies like Alex Drake. Not to mention your family members. It's not working for me!"

Brice shook his head, her words forcing him to close his eyes. "I'm sorry," he murmured, at last, his look piercing her. "I wanted to show you that I'm not what you think, that my lifestyle isn't the mess that you think it is, and I well and truly failed. Spectacularly, it seems."

Janna bit her lip, her anger starting to seep out of her. The hurt look in his eyes echoed around her insides, making her heart squeeze tightly in her chest.

"But that doesn't mean I don't want to help you, even if you aren't interested in continuing a relationship with me."

"I'm not moving into your mansion."

"Understood," he said. "How about my beach house?"

Janna sighed. "Brice--"

He held up his hand to stop her. "Just hear me out. It's quiet, away from the press, a place where you'd be able to relax and rest, to heal. And I'd make sure to have someone there with you, 24-7, to fetch and carry, prepare your meals, and assist in your recovery."

"Brice, I don't need all of that. I don't think you understand--"

He interrupted her again, his features becoming fierce. "Please, let me do this. It's because of me that you're even in this condition. Let me at least make sure you're well again."

"It isn't your fault," she said, but he just scowled and shook his head.

"Please," he repeated, his eyes boring into hers, begging her to give in.

Janna took a deep breath. "If I agree, you realize that this doesn't mean we're getting back together."

He closed his eyes again for a moment. To hide the hurt? "I understand."

"Then I agree. You can hire someone to help me out, and..." Janna's words trailed off as she noticed another presence in her doorway.

"I didn't mean to interrupt you," a cheerful woman in a fuzzy blue sweater said with a smile. "But I'm glad to hear that you're making after-care arrangements. I'm Darla, the hospital administrator. I'm here with your discharge papers, and to talk to you about what happens next."

"Hello, Darla," Brice said, his smile back in place. He stood and walked over to shake the administrator's hand.

"Oh, hello," she said, her voice breathy. Brice had an effect on the opposite sex. Janna couldn't help a flash of jealousy. She rolled her eyes, more at herself than the easy way Brice charmed women. She'd just told the man she wasn't going to continue their romantic relationship, so she had no right to be jealous. She felt it just the same.

"I'm free to go?" Janna asked loudly, interrupting the mini-love fest between Brice and Darla.

"Oh." Darla dropped Brice's hand and turned back to the patient. "Of course. The nurse will be around shortly to help you gather your things. I have a few forms for you, and I'd like to find out about your after-care plans. But it seems as if this gentleman has it well in hand."

"Yes," Brice said. "She'll have around-the-clock care until she's well again."

"Yes," Janna mocked, her voice overly sweet. "And she'd like to know exactly how long she'll have to be wearing this." She lifted the arm in the sling slightly, then winced at the twinge of pain in her wrist. "And this," she said, pointing down at her boot.

Darla shuffled through the papers in her clipboard. "Let's see. According to the doctor's advice, the wrist should be held immobile for two weeks. The cast should stay on for four. And the stitches will dissolve on their own in a few weeks."

Janna sighed. A whole month. She glanced at Brice and didn't trust the smug look she found on his face.

"These papers will detail all the doctor's instructions for you. You should make an appointment for the follow-up soon."

"I'll make sure she does," Brice said.

Janna scowled at him.

"Great. Then all that is left is the bill." Darla handed her an invoice, which Janna scanned. "Your insurance is expected to cover this amount, which means your co-pay will be this amount, in red."

"I'll take care of that," Brice said, snatching the invoice away from her.

"Wonderful. Well, then, I wish you a speedy recovery."

"Thanks," Janna mumbled, shooting an evil glance at Brice.

When Darla had gone, he folded the piece of paper and put it in his pocket. "I'll go and make the arrangements. I've already asked a couple of your fellow co-op mates to pack your belongings, and Tony should have picked them up by now. I'll make sure they're sent over to the beach house."

Janna frowned. "Of course you did. No objections, right?"

"Right," he said, his frown mirroring her own. "I take responsibility for my actions, whether right or wrong. And your getting well has just become my top priority."

"Go, before I change my mind, you overbearing son of a bitch."

For some reason, Brice smiled, as if her cursing had been a term of endearment. He was still smiling as he walked off down the hall and toward the cashier's office.