Alex's POV
*****
"This..." I swallowed hard, my eyelashes batting as I stared into Vincent's eyes.
What was fucking happening right now?
His golden eyes gleamed with an unreadable light but I could've sworn I saw warmth in them. Or was I just feeling the warmth from his freaking body hovering mere inches over mine?
"You're okay..." Vincent finally muttered, his expression going back to stoic. "Good."
Without another word, he shot back up to his feet, dusting his suit as if the proximity had stained it or something.
The panicked screams of the people in the restaurant were a reminder of our predicament—that and the bleeding cut marks across my fucking arms.
I gritted my teeth, trying to sit up when Vincent raised a finger at me, gesturing for me to stay put.
"Uhm, glass cuts all over my arms here," I grunted, parting my lips. "I think I'm going to fucking pass out. Who the heck shot—"
"Shhh!" Vincent shushed me, giving me a glare like I was the one who fucking shot at us.
He turned his head, staring through the window and scanning his gaze across the street.
He seemed too calm, too relaxed for someone who had almost been shot through the skull literally seconds ago.
"Whoever that was... I can't see them." Vincent finally sighed, bringing his eyes back to me. He stretched his right hand to my face, gesturing for me to take it. "Come on, get up. Don't be a wuss."
Was... Was this man fucking... Gods, I can't stand this anymore!
I ground my jaw, grabbing his hand begrudgingly and grunting as he helped me to my feet. "Well, I'm sorry if I'm not used to getting shot at. Knowing you and your assholery, this is probably not your first—"
My breath caught in my throat when I finally got on my feet, but lost my footing mid-read.
I gasped, falling right into Vincent's arms like this was some kdrama. My body trembled but I closed my eyes, refusing to look up and see that smugness from him.
I'd be damned before I make this any more awkward.
"Thanks," I said under my breath, pushing myself away from his body and looking away. My heart still beat like war drums in my chest, and I was getting out of breath.
The people in the restaurant seemed to be calming down now, most of them looking at the shattered window and whispering amongst themselves with tense expressions.
"Was anyone hurt?" Someone asked and I've never felt like making everything about me more in my life.
"I hate my life..." I breathed out, rubbing my forehead as the distant sound of sirens became more prominent.
.
.
"So, I'll be okay, right?" I asked the doctor for the umpteenth time after the middle-aged man stepped away from the hospital bed. "Because these stitches sure as heck sting and I ain't about to lose an arm."
The doctor wore the most professional smile he could muster, glancing at Vincent who stood beside the bed calmly, scrolling through his phone and barely paying any attention.
"I can assure you again, Mr Cross. You'll be fine." The doctor nodded at me, placing his arms behind his back. "You can be dismissed in a few minutes at most."
I pressed my lips into a thin line but I didn't say anything else, managing a small smile before I brought my eyes to my arms.
The cuts from the glasses weren't deep, fortunately, but they stung, and my left arm even had bandages. I hated getting injured.
Apart from the pain, it messed up my skin.
The doctor only lingered for a couple more seconds before he turned, walking out of the room and closing the door behind him.
"I don't know why you're whining over a few paper cuts." Vincent suddenly remarked almost immediately after that door shut, his voice aggravating. "I mean, it's not like your skin will bruise like—"
"I dare you to fucking make any of this about skin colour." I snapped, my eyes going from his head to his toes. "Why weren't you harmed anyway?"
He raised his hands in surrender, shaking his head.
But before I could say another word, the door burst open and Marcello was the one who rushed in with a freaked-out expression.
"Oh, thank goodness!" He breathed out in relief when he saw me on the bed. "Are you two okay? The media is going crazy! Pictures are flying around about—"
"Wow. You just stepped in and you're already talking about business." I tilted my head with a sarcastic smile, rolling my eyes. "Did Mathias happen to follow you here?"
Marcello scratched the back of his neck, that same move he made whenever a conversation was getting awkward for him.
But why?
"He didn't. Left the penthouse a few minutes after you and Vincent actually. Was on a call before that and did not seem pleased." Marcello finally closed the door behind him.
I squinted, my mind reeling at that piece of information.
That's... Odd.
I thought Mathias would wait behind at the penthouse for me. He didn't have any work today—or, at least that's what he told me.
"What's the media saying?" Vincent snapped his fingers at Marcello, but then paused, his poker face flickering with surprise as he stared at his phone. "Oh. Wow..."
My brows knitted into a frown as I sat up on the bed, grabbing the phone out of his hands. He didn't protest and I couldn't care less, my gaze falling on the screen.
When I saw the picture shining on my face, my heart dropped to my stomach, a chill running down my spine.
It was a picture of Vincent and me... Taken after the gunshots.
And not just any photo.
It was a photo of the moment when he shielded me, his body hovering over mine. Our eyes were locked in this steamy gaze that would easily sell the idea of "James Bond style couple" to any Wattpad core fan girl out there.
"Now that's a Pinterest-worthy shot," Marcello remarked from the foot of my bed, staring at his tablet. "The media is fast."
My fingers shook with something I couldn't quite understand. Anger? Embarrassment? Lingering fear from the fact that I was fucking shot at?
"Hey," Vincent yanked his phone off my hands, a subtle smirk curling his lips. "At least they got a good shot of my good side."
I clicked my tongue, holding back from crashing out when my phone suddenly rang on the small table beside the bed.
My heart skipped a beat but I quickly grabbed it, staring at the screen with relief when I saw the name flashing on it.
Baby boy.
"M–Mathias," I spoke with a smile. "It's okay. I'm alive. We still don't know who that shooter was after but I—"
"Alex..." Mathias cut me off, his tone instantly making my smile disappear.
Dear lord...
"God, Alex! I was so worried. Where are you? Were you hurt?"
I raised my head, glancing at Marcello, who turned away, pretending to still be glued to his tablet.
Vincent only rolled his eyes before focusing on his phone again, causing me to sigh.
"Saint Benjamin's hospital," I muttered, tapping my free hand on my legs. "Just a few stitches though. What's wrong?"
There was a short pause from the other end, getting my nerves on a rush.
Did I do something wrong?
"So you haven't seen the images floating through social media yet?" He finally asked with a bitter voice. "Alex, they're calling you two Hollywood's hottest couple. They're making hashtags."
I let out a heavy breath, scratching my scalp. "That's just how social media is, babe. And those images were taken way out of context. Vincent was protecting me and... We—"
"That's the thing... I should be the one protecting you." Mathias interrupted yet again, sounding upset out of nowhere. "This is just day one and I already feel sidelined all the way to freaking Narnia!"
What the heck was happening right now?
I sat up more properly, grunting softly from the slight sting on my arms. "Babe, you're overreacting. Vincent is straight for heaven's sake, not to mention I'm not his biggest fan."
I flicked my eyes at Vincent after that last part but the bastard merely smirked, giving me a teasing wink.
The fuck?
I shook my head. "Listen, what the media is showing will never bleed into reality."
There was another pause, causing my stomach to turn with nerve-racking anxiety.
But eventually—
"I just got a message for a new project I have to attend to." Mathias blurted, low and defeated. "I doubt that hangout can happen tonight. Take care of yourself."
My frown deepened.
Take care of myself?
"Mathias, I—"
Those words died in my throat when the other side beeped before going static with silence.
He hung up.
Mathias... Actually hung up on me while I'm at the hospital.
Was I dreaming?
"Phew." Vincent sniggered beside me, adding to the gnawing frustration. "Did your boyfriend major in 'how to make this all about me'?"
I turned my head to him, but I couldn't even glare or swear.
All I could do was rethink whether this whole thing was already affecting my relationship.
And with Vincent staring at me with a knowing smirk... I couldn't help but feel like I was being rewritten into someone else's story.
"Can this get any worse?"