He was the one, damn it—the one who had stolen the light from her eyes, who had dimmed every spark that used to shine from her.
And still, he dared to hope she might turn back for him. If only she would spare him one more glance, he’d give up everything—anything—for her.
He was willing to become the moth drawn to her flame, willing to endure every burn and heartbreak she’d suffered, willing to sacrifice everything just to make her stay.
But did he have any chance left?
Would she ever look back?
Just then, his personal bodyguard burst through the door, urgency written all over his face. But when he spotted Xena in the room, the words died on his lips; hesitation flickered across his features.
Darren caught on instantly, swallowing the bitter metallic taste at the back of his throat. “What is it?”
The bodyguard shifted awkwardly. “Mr. Harrington… Mrs. Fairchild is here. She just arrived—she’s in the main lobby, waiting for the elevator.”
A glimmer of surprise flashed in Darren’s eyes.
Charlotte actually came to see him?
Summoning all his strength, Darren forced himself to sit up. His voice was weak, but determined. “Go wait for her at the elevator. Bring her up.”
“Yes, sir.”
The moment the bodyguard left, Darren turned to the attendant. “Get a nurse. Have her take off this bandage on my forehead.”
Xena tried to stop him. “Darren, the nurse just changed your dressing half an hour ago. Taking the bandage off now will hurt!”
“Ugly. Take it off.”
His tone brooked no argument.
Ugly? Only then did it dawn on Xena—he wanted to look his best for Charlotte.
A thin, cold smile touched her lips.
Darren, Charlotte hasn’t visited you in two days. Even when you were on the brink of death, she went to a private puppet show with Bradley instead. What makes you think she cares whether your forehead’s bandaged or not?
Xena suppressed her sarcasm and did as he asked, summoning the nurse.
The nurse carefully removed the bandage from Darren’s forehead, tending to the wound as gently as she could.
Darren then had the attendant help him fix his hair and shave his stubble. With trembling hands, he straightened his appearance, checking each button on his hospital gown, fastening them with painstaking precision.

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