kidn*pped while running from my arranged marriage

Chapter 8

She began to hear sounds and looked up to find the help she had called earlier, she was in charge of both their safety now,she picked up the gun just in case.

Rihanna gripped the gun tightly, her eyes fixed on the newcomer as she boarded the boat. "Secure the vessel," she ordered, her voice firm and authoritative. "We need to get him medical attention, ASAP."

The sound of the waves gently lapping against the hull and the cries of seagulls filled the air as Rihanna waited for the woman to assess the situation.

The woman quickly scanned the boat, her trained eyes taking in the situation. She nodded to Rihanna, her expression professional. "I've got this. Let's get him stabilized and figure out our next move."

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Rihanna nodded, still wary, but trusting the woman's expertise. Together, they worked to stabilize Pratt, theaacxxasaxair movements efficient and practiced.

Rihanna's gaze locked onto Pratt's face, her focus solely on the man in front of her. She pushed aside her concerns about their situation, her mind clear and determined.

"We need to get him to a hospital," she said to the woman, her voice firm and decisive. "Can you call for a medevac or figure out where the nearest medical facility is?"

Sure ...... the woman said but Rihanna made her swear an oath of confidentiality.

The woman's eyes narrowed slightly, but she nodded. "I swear, on my honor and my life, that everything that happens on this boat, and everything I've seen and heard, will remain confidential. You have my word."

Rihanna's gaze held hers for a moment, searching for any sign of hesitation. Satisfied, she nodded. "Good. Let's get him stable and figure out our next move."

With the woman's expertise, they were able to stabilize Pratt's condition more efficiently, and she quickly took charge, assessing their surroundings and plotting their next steps. Rihanna watched her work, impressed by her efficiency and skill, as she seamlessly executed the necessary tasks to ensure their safety.

As they moved through the water, Rihanna's thoughts turned back to Pratt, and the secrets he had revealed. She studied his face intently, trying to read the man he had become, and wondering what lay ahead, both for him and for herself, in this complex and unfolding situation. The silence between them was filled with unspoken questions, and Rihanna's mind was racing with possibilities, her eyes never leaving Pratt's face as she waited for him to awaken.

The doctor's skilled hands moved swiftly, but the tension in the air was palpable. Rihanna's anxiety was etched on her face as she watched, her eyes fixed on Pratt's battered body. Every probe, every stitch, every careful movement seemed to drag on, the silence punctuated only by Pratt's labored breathing and the doctor's soft murmurs of concentration.

Finally, the doctor extracted the bullet, and a collective sigh of relief seemed to emanate from Rihanna and the woman who had brought medical help. The doctor's face relaxed, a hint of a smile on his lips. "He's going to make it," he said, his voice low and reassuring.

"My baby is a strong fighter" Rihanna muttered to herself and the woman thought she was talking to her.

The woman's expression softened, and she placed a gentle hand on Rihanna's shoulder. "He's in good hands now," she said, her voice warm and reassuring. "The doctor's done an excellent job. Your...friend will pull through."

Rihanna's eyes snapped up, a mix of surprise and wariness on her face, as she realized the woman had misinterpreted her words. She hesitated for a moment, unsure how to correct her.

Rihanna's gaze drifted back to Pratt, her expression unreadable. She didn't respond to the woman's comment, lost in her own thoughts and concerns for the man lying before her. The woman, sensing the tension, remained silent, allowing Rihanna the space she seemed to need.

The woman left them alone since Pratt was now in safe hands.

Rihanna sat beside Pratt's hospital bed, her eyes fixed on his face as she waited for him to regain consciousness. The beeping of the machines and the sterile hospital smell filled the air, a stark contrast to the chaos they'd left behind.

Her mind still lingered on Pratt's unfinished sentence, "Richard Snr is not..." – what had he been about to reveal? And what did her father have to do with it all? The questions swirled in her head, but she remained silent, watching Pratt's still form, willing him to wake up.

The days ticked by slowly as Rihanna waited for Pratt to regain consciousness. She spent hours by his bedside, watching over him, her mind consumed by thoughts of her father and the mysterious connection between them.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Pratt's eyes began to stir. He groggily opened them, his gaze unfocused at first, before slowly locking onto Rihanna's face. A faint glimmer of recognition sparked in his eyes, and Rihanna's grip on his hand tightened. "You're awake," she whispered, a mix of relief and wariness in her voice.

Yes... can I see the doctor? He demanded weakly.

Rihanna nodded and pressed the call button for the nurse. "The doctor will be here soon," she said, her voice softening slightly as she gazed at Pratt's frail form.

Pratt's eyes held hers, a hint of determination burning in their depths despite his weakness. "I need to talk to him," he whispered, his voice barely audible, but the resolve in his eyes spoke volumes.

The doctor came and Pratt gestured for him to come closer which he did, he whispered into his ears and the doctor nodded.

The doctor's expression turned serious as he listened to Pratt's whispered words. He nodded solemnly, his eyes flicking to Rihanna before returning to Pratt. "I'll take care of it," he said quietly, before straightening up and stepping back.

Rihanna's curiosity was piqued, and she wondered what Pratt had said to the doctor. She leaned forward, her eyes locked on Pratt's face, searching for any hint of what was going on.

The doctor invited Rihanna into his office telling her Pratt woke up horny instead of being hungry.

Rihanna's eyebrows shot up, a mix of surprise and amusement on her face. "Excuse me?" she asked, her tone laced with skepticism. "Horny?"

The doctor's expression remained professional, but a hint of a smile played on his lips. "Yes, well, it's not uncommon for patients to experience...altered states after trauma. But I assure you, we'll monitor his condition closely."

What are we supposed to do about his horny state now? She asked the doctor who in turn questioned her about the kind of relationship she shared with Pratt.

Rihanna's expression faltered for a moment, caught off guard by the doctor's question. She hesitated, unsure how to define her relationship with Pratt. "I'm...a friend," she said finally, her voice a little softer than before.

The doctor raised an eyebrow, his gaze piercing. "A friend?" he repeated, his tone neutral." I was thinking you were his wife or something. "Well, in any case, we'll need to handle his...situation with care. Perhaps we can find a way to...distract him or provide some suitable...outlets."

What do you mean by suitable outlets?

The doctor cleared his throat, his expression professional but slightly awkward. "Well, in cases like this, sometimes we provide...therapy or counseling to help manage the patient's...urges. Or, in some cases, we might consider...other forms of relief, under close supervision, of course."

Rihanna's eyes widened slightly, understanding the doctor's implication. She looked away for a moment, her cheeks flushing slightly. "I see," she said, her voice a little softer. "And what about me? What's my role in all this?"

"Since you're just a mere friend,you'll just watch him recover isn't it?

Rihanna's eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of annoyance flashing in her gaze. "Yeah, that's right," she said, her tone a little dry. "I'll just...watch him recover. From a safe distance, I suppose?" She raised an eyebrow, her expression questioning the doctor's implication.

The doctor gave her a measured gaze, growing suspicious by the second and said it would be good if she helped her supposed friend in this situation.

Rihanna's expression turned skeptical, and she crossed her arms over her chest. "You want me to help him with...that?" she asked, her voice low and incredulous. "I'm just a friend, remember? You're not seriously suggesting what I think you are, are you?"

"The earlier the better" the doctor said holding himself from laughing hard, Rihanna's expression was priceless.

Rihanna's face turned beet red with indignation, her eyes wide with shock. "Are you kidding me?" she spluttered, her voice barely above a whisper. "You can't be serious. I'm not...that's not what I'm here for." She stood up, her chair scraping against the floor, and glared at the doctor. "You're a medical professional, for crying out loud. Act like it."