Page 85 of Sexted By a Stranger
"Now go to Ireland," I commanded. "Ensure Connor's operation there gets a thorough housecleaning."
The line hissed. "Understood, Boss."
Sheila suddenly coughed and frowned slightly.
I immediately cut the call and crossed to the bed in a few quick strides.
"Don't worry, sweetheart," she patted the back of my hand gently. "Just a dry throat, really. I'm much better. Williams said this morning that my recovery speed is remarkable."
I studied her carefully. Her face had indeed regained some color, but the faint shadows under her eyes and the exhaustion in her brow still revealed her weakness.
"Williams' exact words were 'at least a week of complete rest,'" I corrected her, my gaze settling on her still-flat belly. "You both need time. We'll take it slow."
"What about you?" Her voice softened. "From when you found me until now, dealing with all this cleanup—have you slept at all? Luca, your dark circles are practically down to your chin."
I caught the hand she'd placed on my cheek, wrapping it in my palm.
"Connor's finished, but the mess he left behind needs thorough cleaning. The new territory and personnel need quick integration to prevent anyone from stirring up trouble. As for threats…" I made a cutting gesture. "They need to be eliminated completely, root and branch. Not one thorn can remain. Only then can we ensure real safety."
Sheila didn't argue further. She just shifted to the right side of the bed and patted the empty space. "Either way, you need to rest. Or handle things from here—it'll be more comfortable, and I can keep an eye on you. That gives me peace of mind, too."
Her thoughtfulness always struck right at the softest part of my heart.
I didn't refuse her kindness. I stood, grabbed my laptop from the desk, and settled beside her.
She immediately curled up like a kitten, pillowing her head on my shoulder.
Her faint floral scent mixed with the slight bitter smell of medication soothed my tense nerves, and my rigid shoulders gradually relaxed.
A notification popped up on my computer—Lennox had sent the final briefing:
[Morrison, Frat's last lieutenant with real power, boarded a flight to Cape Town. Freezing procedures for his personal and associated accounts complete. Real estate transfer lists under his name have been taken over by our people.]
"Done." I stared at the screen, murmuring to myself. Connor's network had been completely eliminated.
Sheila, resting against my shoulder, let out a soft laugh.
I turned my head, my chin brushing her soft hair. "What's so funny?"
"Just thinking," her fingertip traced around my cufflink, "Connor basically did us a favor by being so reckless. If he hadn't snatched me, you wouldn't have known about the baby for days."
I chuckled. "Only you would call your kidnapper a wingman."
"Hey, as long as it worked out." She lifted her chin, her tone light.
Looking at her bright eyes, I decided to tell her something else.
I put away my smile and spoke seriously. "There's one more thing—I bought Celestial."
Sheila was clearly stunned, complex emotions flickering in her eyes.
That place held too many painful memories for her—humiliating strip dances, desperate struggles, and the dark moments of Connor's imprisonment.
"Why?"
I gripped her hand tighter.
"Because that's where we first saw each other, Sheila."
