Page 64 of Cloud Storm

Why does it matter to me?

I stare at him, evaluating the options of answers I can give to him.

Although thinner and pale, he’s still the most attractive man I have ever seen. His alpha male aura has not disappeared. It’s like the sun, which, although you can’t see it at night, you always wait for it to rise like a golden king on the horizon.

“Well, you’re here breathing almost by a miracle. So keep calm, you have a lot to explain, pal.”

He looks out the window for a few seconds, as if the light coming through the curtains is going to give him some kind of comfort.

“I feel nasty,” he states. He is nasty indeed. The fucker. “I need to take a shower.”

I consider my options, help him or leave him be. Before I get to decide, he manages by himself, disappearing behind the bathroom door and after a couple of minutes, I hear the water running.

While he’s in there I try to gather my thoughts. I’m a mess, I no longer feel safe now that he’s lucid again.

Keeping myself busy, I take the time to put some clean sheets on the bed.

Suddenly the bathroom door opens and he looks anguished, searching with his frantic stare for something around the bedroom.

“Shit,” he mutters in a raspy voice. “What day is it today?”

“Saturday, October the fifth. Do you want to know the year too?” I say, sarcasm with a touch of sweetness, when all I want to do is rip his head off.

“My phone,” he growls, trying to keep the towel around his waist in place, tossing aside the IV that was attached to his arm while he frantically searches for his cell phone. Opening drawers, looking for something to wear and uttering all kinds of curses that my chaste lips shouldn’t repeat. “Where did I leave my phone?”

You’re still at my mercy, Suit. Let’s see if you’re so brave now.

“Hey, you’ve been out of it for hours, calm down, Suit. The doctor came to see you and will be back later. What the heck did you do to your IV?” I add, trying to keep him calm. I don’t know anything about nursing, it’s not something you can learn just by reading, so I’m certainly not going to attempt to put it back.

“I took it off, I don’t need that stupid thing anymore,” he grumbles. “My phone, I really need my phone, I have to send an urgent message.”

To appease him, I help to look for the device throughout the house. Fortunately, when Roselynn was tidying up, she left it in a very visible place, on the kitchen counter. The phone feels like a hot brick in my hands and when our fingers briefly touch as I pass it to him, the air between us turns electric.

But he’s too busy to notice.

Thirty seconds later he concentrates on sending his message as if his life depended on it.

This is weird. I’m realizing the Suit is a strange man.

I know the message is for her and that infuriates me even more.

How dare he act this way when I’m the one here taking care of him?

Where the hell is his beloved perfect woman now? Having a manicure by any chance?

I’m the one who was here with him when he was so ill, but that doesn’t seem to matter, all he’s worried about is letting her know that he’s well.

What about me? Where do I stand now?

I look at him full of resentment, of pain too, of a pain deeper than he knows.

He drops the phone on the table with a sigh, covering his eyes with his free arm, as if he’s in pain just having to wait for her reply.

Then my cell phone vibrates in my pocket. I immediately take it out and see the notification that a new email has just arrived, the green light flashing above my screen.

No. This is too much of a coincidence.

No. No. No. I refuse to believe it.

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