Raymond’s POV.
I turned away from the door and lingered, looking down at the woman cradled in my arms, struck by how beautiful she was.
I could never tire of looking at her.
I could also feel Biana’s bitter energy radiating through the door, but I didn't care. She was irrelevant. Nothing outside these four walls mattered anymore—only my Elena.
Carefully, I carried her toward the king-sized bed, setting her down on the silk duvet as though she were fragile glass. Hell, she might as well be. She looked so pale, the exhaustion etched deep into her delicate features, her chest rising and falling in shallow, dizzy rasps.
“Raymond…” she mumbled faintly, her brow furrowing as her head sank into the pillow. Her eyelashes fluttered. “No… stop… I'm fine… I can do it…”
“Hush, Elena,” I murmur
