"Ssst!"
Keira started flatly at the grown-up man in front of her. "Sit still, will you?"
The mafia lord twisted away from her. For once, she might add.
Although there was no mistaking that he did so because of the cotton she dipped with alcohol to clean the cut on his forehead.
"Didn't you say that you're a mafia lord?"
"Well, a cut is still a cut, and alcohol is still alcohol. Pity, you don't let me drink some to numb the pain," Nate muttered none too pleasantly.
"Are you always this fussy after a shallow injury?"
Nate huffed, trying to reel away again when she directed the cotton in her hand to his split lips. "Just so you know, I don't make a habit of getting injured."
"You did get injured, anyway."
"Yes, because I let them beat me for fun. Obviously."
Keira furrowed her brows, trying to distinguish if he was telling the truth. The way he said it made her think. "You can free yourself from the ties."
