Page 6 of Make You Mine

Holy shit. I might see him.

I take a steadying breath to control my emotions. Trent is here, in New York, and has been for over two months…

“Thank you for telling me,” I say quietly, almost on an exhale. My mind is too busy to think of anything else to say.

Her eyes go wide at the same time as Joey’s horrid cologne fills my senses.

“Time to go, princess. Boss is asking for you,” he says.

I turn back to my friend, giving her my best effort of a reassuring smile. “I love you, babe. Can’t wait for next month.”

She stands and wraps me in one of her stellar hugs once more, whispering in my ear, “I'm here if you ever need me. No matter what.”

“No matter what,” I whisper back, chest aching as I break free from her hold.

As we walk to the waiting blacked-out Mercedes at the curb, I feel that familiar tingle at the nape of my neck. I shake my shoulders slightly, brushing off the feeling of hope.

Trent has been in New York for almost two months and has made no attempt to contact me.

Three

“How did I have no fucking clue Nico had a daughter?” I ask my brother as he pulls his McLaren through the gates of our boss’s property. I would call it a mansion, but it's more like a compound on the outskirts of the city.

“He doesn’t bring her up in conversation much. She’s leverage someone could hold over his head, and from what I’ve seen, she’s her father’s and brother’s biggest weakness,” Trevor answers.

I wish other people were that protective of their daughters, instead of handing them over like some trophy.

“Grab the suture kit from the trunk,” he says, reading something on his phone. “Sounds like she will probably need stitches. Do you feel comfortable doing them, little Manning?” My brother still uses my nickname his friends used to call me in high school.

“Yeah, I can handle that.” I’m feeling confident, because in this job, that’s one thing I’ve gotten a lot of practice with. I have a few more years before I’ll ever be considered a doctorto normal people but, let’s be honest, I gave up normal years ago.

One of the guards meets Trevor and I in the driveway walking us into the house. “She’s in her bathroom on the second floor. Says she slipped on the pool deck and busted her head right above her eye.”

Trevor nods, and we follow the guard to the upstairs of the expansive mansion. The brunette sitting on the bathroom counter looks every bit the nineteen-year-old Trevor said she was.

“Hi, Arianna,” Trevor says gently to the girl, who’s holding a bloody wet rag to her head. Recognition flares briefly in her eyes as she takes in my brother. He moves his attention to her friend sitting beside her. “I’m Trevor, a friend of her father’s. I’m a doctor.” Then Trevor gestures to me. “This is my brother, Trent, who’s in training. I’m going to let him stitch you up, and then I’ll do an exam to rule out a concussion. Is that okay?” His normal demeanor with clients is gone, and his original bedside manner that he learned at NYU is back in place.

They both study us for a minute. It’s probably obvious we’re siblings, considering we look so much alike. Both with light blonde hair and broad shoulders. Except I’m an inch taller with green eyes like our mother, whereas he has our father’s blue ones.

Arianna nods, not speaking.

Her friend pipes up. “I know who you are. I’m Lexi and my father is Leo,” she says, referring to Nico’s advisor and our superior.

“Good… Then you know you can trust us,” Trevor says, as I put my gloves on and move to examine the gash on her head.

“The pool deck was slippery, huh?” I ask as I clean her wound.

Arianna nods again, but her friend growls, “Yeah, something like that.” I notice Arianna push her hand into the side of the girl’s leg, wordlessly telling her to be quiet. The gesture has my hackles rising.

Focusing back on task, I tell her, “I’m going to numb the area up a little bit. The needle poke will be the worst part, okay?”

“Okay,” she breathes out, reaching for her friend’s hand, who’s busy ogling my brother.

As I continue to stitch her up, she handles every bit of it like a pro.

“Trent, how old are you?” Lexi asks.

“I’m twenty-three.”

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