Page 23 of His to Bedevil

My mother is silent for a long moment. I know she’s torn right now. She’s happy that I met someone, but it’s obviously affecting my ability to stay on top of things. Love can be your biggest support, but it can also become your biggest weakness.

“Send me everything you have on her,” she demands, breaking the silence.

“Mamá—” I sigh, sounding like a little boy all of a sudden.

“Send me her file, Alejo,” she insists.

“Mamá, here’s the thing. Her records other than her birth certificate have been erased. Not even Marcus can find anything.”

“Alejandro! What are you doing with her, then? Who is she?” My mother can have a short fuse, and I’m thankful this conversation is over the phone, as cowardly as that may seem.

“It’s a little complicated, Mamá, but please trust me.”

“Alejo, I do not like this.”

Sighing again, I continue to rub my temples. My head is throbbing more and more each day. “It’ll be okay, Mamá. I promise you. I would never put you or our empire in jeopardy.”

“Okay, Alejo. I want you home tomorrow.”

“Mamá—”

“Mañana, mijo,” she snaps, and I know there is no room for negotiation.

“Okay, Mamá. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Te amo, mijo.”

“Tú tambien, Mamá.”

As soon as I hang up the phone, I hear a gasp coming from the bed. As I jump to my feet, Irma shoots up to hers as well, awake and highly alert. Her eyes are wide in shock, and her chest is heaving as if she’s just been running. Her beautiful naked chest. “What’s the matter,mi amor?” I ask in a husky voice, my eyes straining to remain on her face, and her wild gaze snaps to mine.

She blinks rapidly, seeming to remember her surroundings and relaxing only slightly. After a moment, she gazes down at her naked self and gasps again. Snatching a blanket off the bed, she tries to cover herself, but it’s too late. I’ve already memorized her naked form.

She just stands there like a frightened bunny. “Let’s wash you up, then you can have some breakfast.” I start for her, and she backs up, making me stop abruptly in my tracks.

She swallows and looks around. “How long have I been asleep?”

“About twelve hours.” Her cheeks flush, and I want to reach out and stroke them to see if they’re warm to the touch.

She nods and tightens the blanket around her. “I don’t suppose you have something for me to wear.” Her tone is dry.

I turn away and stride into my closet to grab a T-shirt for her. When I approach her with it, I don’t hand it over. I stretch it over her head and pull it down. She’s glaring at me when her head pops through the collar, making my lips twitch with the urge to grin. I rip the blanket out from underneath the shirt without taking my eyes off of hers, and she slips her arms through the sleeves. I could give her a robe or even have someone go and get her some clothes of her own, either from a store or her old apartment. I could, but I don’t want to. I rather enjoy seeing her in my T-shirts that fit her like a dress. She’s so tiny and fragile. Like a little doll.

“Thanks,” she mutters. When I scoop her up into my arms just to mess with her some more, she lets out a growl. “I do not need to be carried everywhere, Alejo.” I love it when she calls me Alejo.

“You’re still…” I trail off, remembering her subtle reaction when I used that word with her earlier, so I think of a way to reword it. “In a delicate state.”

Her eyes narrow at me. “I think I can manage to walk to the bathroom on my own now.”

“But you don’t have to,” I muse. She’ll never have to walk again if she doesn’t want to. I would be more than happy to carry her everywhere. It requires little to no effort to hold her.

“Do you have this weird kink about treating your women like children?” she tries taunting.

I frown down at her as I set her on her feet inside the bathroom. “What?”

“You’ve been taking care of me like I’m a child. You said you wanted me… as in…” She trails off, not able to finish her statement as her cheeks blush.

I close the small gap between us, backing her up until she’s wedged between me and the counter. “I’m taking care of you like you’re a weak little woman who is also helpless,” I sneer. She wants to try and push my buttons, I’ll push the ones I know she has right back. “Now, if you’re trying to tell me that you have this weird kink where you’d prefer to call mepapi, I’m open to that.”

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