Page 37 of Remy

“I promise to keep you safe from the repercussions of this.” His thumb rubs in lazy strokes along my wrist. So gentle. So sickeningly vindictive. “But that generous coupon expires as soon as you open your pretty little mouth to anyone other than me. Am I clear?”

I glare at him. “Yes.”

He doesn’t release me, doesn’t even loosen his hold as the weight of his scrutiny intensifies. Those dark eyes read me, imprison me, seeming to judge if he’s making the right choice in granting my temporary freedom.

But I’ll keep tonight’s secrets safe.

At least until I can figure out what I’m up against.

“I didn’t want this for you, Ollie.” His grip becomes tender, the tight lines leaving his expression as something softer takes their place. Exhaustion? Guilt?

For a split second I see him again—the Remy I first met. The temptation. The dreamy god.

His attention strays to my mouth for the briefest moment, a deep breath escaping him. “I hope your dad is okay.”

10

OLIVIA

I snatch my arm away and all but run for the door.

I make it outside without breaking down and unlock his seemingly brand-new black Bentley with a scream still bottled in my lungs.

My fingers clench the steering wheel, the threat of a nervous breakdown hot on my heels as I drive across town in the dark of early morning. The smell of new leather clogs my every breath—but worse is his aftershave.

The delicious scent of the man I despise is embedded throughout the car’s interior, poisoning my lungs with each inhale.

I’m tempted to sideswipe every vehicle I pass just to spite him, yet all that will do is attract the authorities, and I meant what I said about the cops. I won’t run to them. Not yet. Not until I know the risks of what I’m up against.

I dump his luxury penis extension in the parking lot across the street from the hospital, then shuffle jog to the main entrance, my breath fogging in the freezing air.

The information desk isn’t hard to find. The middle-aged woman who sits behind a computer greets me with kind eyes.

“I’m looking for my father, Carlo Pelosi.” My stomach twists with the unknown. “I received a phone call a little while ago to say he’d been admitted.”

“Let me take a look.” She taps at her keyboard. “Here he is. The oncology ward. You’re going to want to take the elevator to the second floor for room two hundred and three.”

“Oncology?” All the blood seeps from my face. “But he doesn’t have cancer.”

She winces. “I’m sorry. I can only advise the patient’s location. He may have been relocated due to bed shortages on other wards.”

I stand dumbfounded, blinking, barely breathing. “Okay… um…”

“His doctor will be able to explain the situation.” The woman stands and indicates the elevators with a gentle hand. “Go see him. It’ll be all right.”

I hear the placation for what it is but nod my thanks and hustle to the elevator. I escape on the second floor, then rush to the dimly lit nurses’ station only to find it empty.

I don’t pause to wait for someone to show. I continue down the darkened hall, my heart stopping when I reach the open door of room 203.

My father rests on a hospital bed a few yards inside the room, his face shadowed, the left side of his forehead covered in a square bandage.

“Ma’am?” a gentle voice prompts nearby.

I glance over my shoulder to the female nurse approaching. She takes me in with tired eyes, silently questioning.

“My father,” is all I can muster.

She nods, stopping close beside me. “He just got back to sleep after the request to relocate him to a private room, so please try not to wake him. But he’s doing fine. The doctor only wanted to keep him in overnight for observation.”

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