Elena's pov

“I can manage,” I said quickly.

I tried. The movement of lowering myself into the seat pulled sharply at my injured arm. A small sound escaped before I could stop it,half breath, half reaction. I bit the inside of my cheek and forced the rest of the motion.

He noticed.

Of course he did.

He didn’t make a show of it. One hand settled lightly at my waist, the other steadying my elbow just enough to take the strain off the sling. His touch was careful, almost impersonal, but it still registered,warmth through the fabric of my dress, the solid presence of someone who knew exactly how much...