"No."
Harlow shook his head.
"The bruises look fresh, so this is a recent occurrence before I brought her to my home," Ian said, his voice sharp.
He leaned forward, pinning him with a gaze that could cut steel. "Do you think it was Stefanos?"
Harlow's face scrunched in thought. He shook his head slowly. "No. She doesn't live with Stefanos, and he rarely visits her mansion. Even when he does, their arguments are all verbal, shouting at worst. Besides, the Ms. I know would never let him touch her. She's pretty tough."
"So then, who did it?" Ian's fingers tapped the desk once. "If it's not Stefanos, who would hurt her?"
Harlow hesitated, his brows furrowed.
Then, reluctantly, "Her…father…"
Ian's expression dropped. "What?" The air in the room suddenly grew colder. "What do you mean?"
"She's not in a good relationship with her father, well he doesn't like her and I'm not sure why," Harlow said quietly. "Since I've been watching over her, I've noticed how hard she works to gain his favor…uh, prove herself to him. He never acknowledges it though."
Ian's jaw clenched.
"There's one more thing," Harlow added. "Her father seems to be under the Rassi's, like a loyal dog to them. So, technically, Stefanos and his father have power over him. That night that Ms collapsed, he called her phone almost twenty times, so if there is anyone who hurt her, it's probably him."
Ian's claws extended fully, digging deep into the wooden desk. "Why?"
Harlow nervously eyed his claws.
"W-well," he stuttered, swallowing. "Since he's under the Rassi's, I don't think things were good for him after Ms broke a bottle on Stefanos's head. It makes sense that he would want to hurt her for what she did."
Ian held murderous eye contact with him and suddenly stood, sweeping the glass of water off his desk. It shattered across the floor.
"HUMANS."
His voice deepened, darkening with a growl. "What kind of a father hurts his own child? For what?"
"Sir…" Harlow started cautiously. "I-I think you should—"
"Find Giancarlo Sorin for me," Ian ordered.
Harlow refused, "You can't do that, sir."
"What?"
"I don't think she will be happy with you if she wakes up and finds out you hurt her father. Even if he doesn't treat her well, she still cares."
Ian whirled towards him. "But he hurt her."
"True, but it is not your call, sir," Harlow said, firm now. "She's your mate, yes, but she doesn't know that. A-and this man is her family, her father. She'll only hate you."
Ian's shoulders rose and fell in heavy breathing. He swept his palm up his face and brushed his fingers through his hair in frustration.
"Get out."
Harlow didn't stall—he turned and left, the door slamming behind him.
Ian braced his hands on the edge of the desk and groaned hard. His chest ached with unsoothed rage.
"Well," he muttered. "That's a shame. I could have shown him hell."
——————
Diana stirred.
Her head throbbed as she blinked into the barely bright room. She turned towards the door, disoriented for a few moments before she forced herself into a sitting position
She looked around. The room was familiar. She'd been here before, his house.
It took a few seconds before her memories began to flush in.
The truck.
Yes, she'd almost been hit by a truck and somehow, Ian Basti who was too far away to even reach her got to her in time, enough that she didn't have any physical injury.
How…?
And where was he?
Getting off the bed on unsteady feet, she swayed on her way towards the door to step out.
A large figure cut in front of her and she tried to stop, but it was too late and she awkwardly crashed into him, her forehead slamming into his chest.
Her head took the shock and the smell of something sweet, so soothing—it was his scent, like nothing she'd ever smelt before on anyone, flooded her senses.
She swallowed with fluttering eyes and took a quick step back. But Ian Basti's strong arms enveloped her waist and she could feel the rumble of his chest as he cackled.
"I thought you weren't going to wake up at some point. It's been eleven hours since you went out cold. Did you miss me?"
"Wh…what?" She tried to step back.
"Come on, sweet doll, you were the one who left the bed looking for me."
"I wasn't looking for you."
"Yes, you were." He smiled in the same charming way he always did, lazy and devastating. Any woman would fall into a trance at the sight of it.
But not her.
She slipped out of his hold, cleared her throat, and crossed her arms. "I was looking for you, yes, but…I wanted to say thank you."
"For what?" Ian slanted his head to the side.
She raised a brow at him. "For…saving me? I mean, I could have gotten hit if it wasn't because of you."
"Oh." He stepped closer. "Would you really like to thank me?"
Her brows lifted. "Huh?"
The man hunched to her height and turned his face to the side. "A kiss on the cheek will do."
Diana narrowed her eyes. Then a slow, sweet sarcastic smile curved her lips.
"You know what will feel even better against your cheek?"
"I'm listening, baby doll."
"This." She balled her fists. "I'll punch you so hard and I won't feel sorry for it."
"My…" He stepped into her space, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. "I love your mouth."
Diana made an unimpressed face at him and walked over to sit on the bed. "Thank you. I mean it."
"You're welcome."
There was a pause.
Then she asked, "How did you do it, though?"
The question made Ian's brows lift. "Do what?"
"I could've sworn you were too far from me. But somehow you reached me, you were right there in front of me. That truck hit us, Ian. So how?"
Ian was silent.
She further pressed, "How are you…okay? And me, I don't even have a scratch. Nothing at all."