Chapter 156: Sudden Blackout

"I’m not moving until you get inside your house, Mr. Heathcliffe."

The small smile on Marco’s face told Dorian there was absolutely no point arguing with him.

The enormous bald man had decided he was Dorian’s personal security detail for the night.

"Would you like whoever is behind this dead?"

"You expect me to answer that?"

Marco shrugged. "I’ll let you know who it is, then you decide."

Dorian turned away and headed back toward the townhouse without looking behind him. He already knew Marco would remain exactly where he was until Dorian got through the door.

When he reached the house, he stepped inside, locked the door and immediately activated the security system.

"Naomi?" Dorian frowned. "Naomi?"

Still no answer.

He walked farther into the house.

The flowers he had bought her were sitting on the sofa in the living room, abandoned exactly where she must have left them before running after him.

She was probably upstairs.

Maybe frightened.

Their argument already felt ridiculous now.

Dorian looked down at the gun still in his hand. He decided to return it to the Mercedes before going upstairs to find Naomi and explain what had happened.

Then they could finish their argument.

Or not.

Preferably not.

He walked through the side door connecting the house to the garage, took two steps then stopped.

Naomi was on the ground.

Panic hit him like a physical blow.

"Naomi!" He dropped down beside her so quickly his knees struck the floor. "Naomi? Babe?" he put the gun safely aside and immediately reached for her. His fingers went to her neck. "Naomi, can you hear me?" He touched her face.

Her skin felt warm.

There was no blood that he could see. No obvious injury. Nothing around her suggested anyone had entered the garage.

His heart was still hammering violently. "Naomi?" He tapped her cheek gently. "Come on, Trouble. Open your eyes for me."

She looked like she had simply collapsed.

Was it from fear?

Dorian scooped her into his arms, the gun completely forgotten on the garage floor.

Nothing else mattered.

He carried Naomi into the living room and lowered her carefully onto the sofa, then lifted her legs onto the cushions. "Baby... baby, come on. Come on, love." He touched her face, then her neck again.

Still breathing.

But he had no idea how long she had been lying unconscious before he found her, and that thought was doing terrible things to his ability to think rationally.

"Naomi." He shook her shoulders gently. "Come on, Trouble. Please, open your eyes."

Naomi drew in a deeper breath as her eyelids fluttered.

"There you are."

Naomi blinked several times, clearly disoriented.

Then her eyes focused on him. The second recognition landed, she jerked upright.

"Dorian." She grabbed him, arms locked around his neck as she pulled him against her. "You’re okay."

Dorian wrapped his arms around her.

She had been unconscious and somehow he was the one she was worried about.

"Yeah, I’m okay." He pulled back. "You scared the shit out of me."

Naomi frowned. "What happened?"

"You passed out."

"Hmmm..." She lifted one hand to her head, pressing her fingers against her temple. "Yeah..." Her brows pulled together. "I had this intense headache. It just slammed through me."

"Do you still have it?"

Naomi paused, checking. "No. No. It’s gone." She rubbed her temple once more. "It’s weird. It only happens when I hold your gun." She seemed far less disturbed by that statement than he was.

"This has happened before?"

The shock in his voice finally made her look concerned.

"No, not the passing out. Just the headache. The first time was in your office. My bag caught on your drawer and it opened, and I picked up the gun. I got this horrible headache then too. Really sudden. But it went away. Why do you need so many guns?"

"For nights such as this. Come on, tell me about this headache."

"It’s nothing. I probably have a phobia of guns." Naomi chuckled like that explained everything.

"I’ll get you upstairs." He moved to help her up, but Naomi immediately caught his wrist.

"No, no. We need to talk. First, about who was out there."

"It was a work thing."

"Your work people stalk you at night?"

Dorian gave her a look. "You probably shouldn’t have married me if you’re scared of guns."

Naomi’s mouth fell open. "I didn’t know who you were, remember?"

"Right." His lips twitched. "Forgot about that."

She narrowed her eyes at him.

How exactly did one forget that their marriage had begun with two drunk strangers making catastrophic decisions in Las Vegas?

Although, considering where they were now, perhaps catastrophic was no longer the correct word.

"How can something we did in all stupidity be so right?"

His mouth tightened. "I should get you upstairs. You should sleep. You’re probably just tired."

Naomi could identify retreat. She could because she did it too. "Dorian..." She reached out and wrapped her fingers around his arm. "I’m sorry about tonight."

Dorian looked down at her hand.

Then back at her.

"My issues have nothing to do with you. They shouldn’t take away from who you are. I am me for a whole lot of reasons," she continued. "It’s what life has taught me. It’s who I was made to be. To be distrustful of emotional attachments." She finally spoke out the ugly truth. She hated how vulnerable love made people.

Everywhere Naomi looked, love seemed to come with some special permission slip that allowed people to hurt you more than anyone else ever could.

Dorian was different.

She knew that.

Every day with him kept proving that maybe love marriage did not have to be endurance. Maybe having someone in your corner did not always come with a hidden invoice waiting to be paid.

Dorian lifted one hand and cupped her cheek. He leaned forward until his forehead rested against hers. "Then let me fix you. Let me teach you something else."