Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband?

Chapter 416 The ship inched closer to the port. Mila stood on the deck, gazing out at the vibrant town spreading along the shore. Her white dress hugged her figure, the hem fluttering in the salty breeze.

Ahead lay Naples.

Only recently had she learned the truth: Coshad kidnapped her all the way from Eldermere, England, to Italy. That island they'd just left behind? Sicily.

It was so far from home.

"Aren't you cold? You should've worn something warmer." A black overcoat landed on her shoulders, and an arm slipped around her waist, pulling her against a firm chest. The familiar scent-cool, woodsy, with a hint of spice-washed over her.

Her first instinct was to break free, but she was no match for his strength.

"Don't move," he murmured, chin resting atop her head, his voice rumbling low. "You promised you'd letmake it up to you. No backing out." "I never promised you anything," she shot back through clenched teeth, bristling at the way he crowded her space, his presence overwhelming.

But Lysander, as always, was stubborn and unmoved.

The two of them stood entwined at the bow, his chin pressed to her hair, the picture of an impossibly perfect couple-if you ignored the fire blazing in Mila's eyes, that is.

"Lysander, ready to go?" The moment the ship docked, a man with wild red hair burst out of the cabin. He paused, catching sight of the pair on deck, but didn't bother to disguise his amusement. Waving cheerfully, he called out, "Don't mind me, lovebirds. I'll just head on ahead, shall I?" "Let go!" Mila snapped, twisting in Lysander's grip. When he didn't, she dug her nails into the back of his hand. He finally released her.

Lysander glanced at the red marks she'd left, lips quirking in a half-smile. But as Mila moved toward the gangway, he caught her wrist.

"Where do you think you're going?" "The hospital," she replied shortly.

"Is your wound acting up again?" Lysander's brow furrowed. "I'll send for the doctor." He turned to Francis, ready to give the order.

"No need." Mila hesitated, realizing there was no hiding it now-not in this foreign place, not under these circumstances. Honestly, she was too scared to go to the hospital alone, afraid she'd be kidnapped again. She decided to just tell the truth. "Before the wedding, Cossaid something weird, then knockedout. I don't know what he did, or if anything's wrong, but I need a check-up." "Why didn't you tellsooner?" Lysander's eyes narrowed, his stare sharp as a fox's. When Mila looked away, he understood-she just hadn't wanted to talk to him. He sighed in exasperation, then barked at Francis, "Go on ahead. I'll catch up later." Ignoring her protests, Lysander scooped Mila into his arms and carried her off the ship to the waiting car, which sped away toward the hospital.

Francis was left standing on the dock, speechless.

The ride was fast but smooth. Mila listened as Lysander made several calls in flawless Italian-not a language she knew well, but she understood enough to guess he was arranging for doctors, getting everything ready for her examination.

Pressed against his chest in the backseat, she stayed silent. At least this way, things would get done quickly. They arrived at the hospital, and Mila was whisked straight into an examination room-no waiting, no paperwork. Lysander waited outside.

An hour passed. Then, several more doctors arrived, greeting Lysander before joining the exam. Tseemed to crawl.

Finally, the door opened. One of the doctors, looking uneasy, handed Lysander a report.

"Sir, you might want to see this for yourself." Lysander snatched the report, flipping straight to the final results. Instantly, his face darkened with anger. "Cossio!" he growled, voice low and dangerous.

How dare he...

The paper crumpled in his fist, tremors of rage running through him. After several deep breaths, he seemed to regain control. He handed the report back to the doctor.

"Destroy this. Prepare a new one for me." The doctor hesitated. "Sir, that's not really-" "I said, a new one." Feeling the weight of Lysander's glare, and remembering their orders, the doctor simply nodded without another word.

These weren't people you argued with.

When the exam was finally over, Mila changed back into her clothes and es and hurried out, immediately seeking out the nearest doctor. In hesitant Italian, she asked, "Doctor, what's the verdict?" "You're in good health," the doctor replied with a reassuring smile, handing her the freshly printed report. She flipped through it-aside from sminor concerns, nothing serious.

Relief flooded her. Ever since she'd been knocked out before the wedding, dread had weighed on her chest. Even though she hadn't felt En any obvious changes, with someone like Cossio, you could never be sure. Not until she saw the results for herself. Thank God-nothing was wrong.

Suddenly, she was pulled into Lysander's embrace again, his hand possessively at her waist. Heo m frowned clearly "No more close calls, understood? Next time, you tellimmediately." Then, as if correcting himself, he added, "No there won't be a next time."