Page 70 of The Millionaire's Mechanic

“I’m going to go now. If you tell anyone you saw me, even Ephraim—especially Ephraim—there is going to be trouble. So just do what I said. Go to Torsten. Tell him it’s over. Pack a bag and get out.”

He opened the door before pausing.

“That shouldn’t be hard,” he threw out, unable to resist. “You’ve done it before.”

Then he was gone.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-FOUR

Georgia had no idea she got herself home. One minute, she was sitting in her car, struggling to keep from throwing up in the parking lot, and, the next, she was blinking in the bright lights of the penthouse foyer.

When a hand touched her cheek, she startled. Blinking, she focused on Rainer’s concerned face.

“Baby, I asked if you were okay?”

Taking a shaky breath, she shook her head. “I don’t feel very well.”

Rainer’s handsome face creased into concern. “Do you want me to call a doctor?”

Georgia stared at him blankly. Her ears had started ringing, and she was having a hard time processing his words. Rainer turned to say something to someone behind him, his voice sharp.

He was worried about her.

Oh, God.Swamped with guilt, she pulled away from him. “I’ll be fine. I just have a headache. I’m going to wash up and lie down for a while.”

“Okay.” Rainer rubbed her back, his sympathy little daggers to her heart. “I’ll come and check on you in a bit.”

Nodding mechanically, she stumbled away, stripping her clothes off for a steaming hot shower. It wasn’t until her second scrub down that she realized she was focusing on her right shoulder as if trying to scour off the impression of Mack’s fingers.

Sobbing, Georgia pressed her forehead to the tiled wall. What the hell was going on? Why had her brother faked his death?

Idiot, she berated herself. It had something to do with the kidnapping. But for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out what. She could barely think at all.

“Georgia, you’re turning into a lobster.” Rainer materialized out of the steam, opening the door to the shower. He turned the dial back to a cooler temperature. He disappeared for a second before returning with two white pills and a perspiring bottle of Gatorade.

Too drained to resist, she let him pull her out of the shower. He wrapped her in a huge terrycloth towel, urging her to take the pills with soft words and gentle caresses. He said something about dinner and disappeared again.

Burying her face in her hands, Georgia crumpled onto the bed next to the nightgown Rainer had laid out for her.

Faced with yet another example of his kindness and consideration, she pulled the sheath over her head and stumbled across the hall to the spare bedroom he’d given her when she moved in. Not bothering to flip the light switch, she laid down on the bed, facing away from the door. When the door opened, she pretended to be asleep, ignoring Rainer’s soft questions until he went away.

* * *

Certain that George was suffering from a migraine, Rainer texted Ephraim to let him know dinner was off.

The best thing you can do for her is let her sleep it off.

She’d done the right thing going straight to bed in a dark room. With luck, she’d sleep through the worst of it. However, if she was still in pain when she awoke, he had his doctor on speed-dial.

My poor baby.She’d looked so ill, her golden-brown skin almost grey. He made mental note to ask his physician if she could have a cat scan. Perhaps George needed a prescription for migraine medication.

He was texting his doctor when Powell appeared at the door.

“You’re not answering your phone.”

“Sorry,” Rainer said, eyes on his phone. “But Georgia isn’t feeling well. I’m going to get Dr. Green out here to see her in the morning.”

“She’s not ill.”

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