Chapter Thirty-Seven
Sofia smoothed Ivo’s dark curls away from his face, marveling at his soulful green eyes and the thick black lashes. “Do you know you’re drop dead gorgeous, Ivo Zacca?”
Ivo grinned. “How much morphine did you take?”
Sofia grinned. “I’d get stabbed more often if I got this stuff every time.”
Ivo winced but Sofia kissed him. “Hey, I’m kidding. And look, the knife missed everything that could have killed me. Guess Grant wasn’t such a hot shot – or rather hot stab – assassin after all.”
“Could you stop saying ‘stab’?” But he kissed her back, passionately, tangling his fingers in her black hair. It was still miraculous to him that she was okay.
The wound looked so brutal, so deep, that when the surgeon had told him that it hadn’t been so serious, that Sofia would recov
