“I’ll check recovery and let you know. It’s unlikely she’ll wake until morning. No, there is no need to argue,” he continued, holding up his hand. “I don’t intend to tell you that you can’t sit with her. I believe it will only help her recovery if you’re there when she awakes. I’ll go to her now.”

* * *

There was a low light on as he kept his vigil. Franco had had a tray of food sent up, but Alexander had only toyed with it and pushed it aside.

She lay so still.

He’d been told she would, that the sedation had been heavy, but he watched her for a movement, for a flicker.

She lay so quietly.

An IV fed into her wrist; the white bandage holding the needle in place stood out in the dark. A line of machines kept up a steady click and beep as they monitored her. From time to time he stared at the fluorescent green lights. But almost always he stared at her.

Sometimes he spoke, holding her hand in his as he talked of walking together on the beach, of taking her to the family retreat in Zurich or sitting in the gardens. Other times he would simply sit, watching her face, waiting.

He thought how much she would dislike the dull hospital gown they had put her in. And he thought of the lace and silk she had worn the last time they had made love. Only one night ago. He pressed her hand against his cheek as his breathing grew jerky and painful. The touch helped soothe.

“Don’t let go,” he murmured. “Stay with me, Eve. I need you, and the chance to show you how much. Don’t let go.”

He sat through the hours of the night fully awake. Just as the slats in the window shade let in the first slivers of light, she stirred.

“Eve.” He gripped her hand in both of his. The safety bar on the side of the bed was down so that he could lean toward her. “Eve, you’re all right. I’m here with you. Please, open your eyes. Can you hear me? Open your eyes, Eve.”

She heard him, though his voice sounded hollow and distant. Something was wrong. She felt as though she had been floating, and the dreams … Her eyelids fluttered, came up. She saw only gray, then blinking, began to make out form.

“I’m here with you,” Alexander repeated. “You’re going to be fine. Can you hear me?”

“Alex?” She saw his face. It was very close, but she couldn’t seem to reach up and touch. It was shadowed with beard. It made her smile a little. “You haven’t shaved.”

Then she went under again.