(Olivia’s POV)
The first thing I felt was warmth—an unfamiliar sensation that spread across my hand like sunlight breaking through clouds. My eyelids were heavy, as though they had been weighted down for an eternity, but I forced them open.
The light above me was muted, soft against the pale walls of a hospital room. The sterile smell of antiseptic hit my senses as my vision cleared. I groaned in slight pain as I tried to move.
And then I saw him.
Armando was slumped in a chair beside me, his dark eyes rimmed with exhaustion and worry, his hand gripping mine so tightly it ached. His suit jacket was wrinkled, his tie loosened—a rare sight for a man who prided himself on precision. For a moment I was terrified seeing him and I flinged.
When he noticed my movement, his head shot up, his
