Page 35 of The Last Call
“You’re hiding and you’re lonely and you’re miserable.”
True and true and even more true. “No.”
“Yes.”
A sad smile confirms his assertion. His rough knuckles caress down my cheek yet he remains silent. At least not gloating. Which I’m not sure if his gentleness is any better. Kindness more than I can take in my embarrassed state.
“We’re here for another two weeks. Once you recover, you can spend it locked down in this house…”
Such a controlling, crazy bastard. “You can’t–”
“Or you can relax and enjoy the life I’m giving you. Your choice.” His annoying pompous ass smirk returns. “If you choose wisely, then I’ll hire Mack as one of your guards when we get back.”
My heart slams against my chest from his offer. “Really?”
Pitiful that I sound this damn hopeful. Giddy to have some sense of normalcy in this dumpster fire of a relationship. Stupidly grateful to him for letting me see my friend. But I want to. So, so badly.
“Yes, and you know I don’t lie.”
“Oh, I remember Saint. Just maiming and murdering, but no lying.”
“Exactly.” He pretends to ignore my sarcasm but humor flames in eyes. Enjoying me teasing him. Although it’s actually the truth. “Now get some rest. Dr. De La Rosa said to stay in bed. Too bad he’s restricted everything else too while you’re in it.”
Pervert. I ignore his innuendo. My muddled thoughts churn from his irrationality. Mine too. Incapable of accepting his brutality. Unable to tolerate his easy dismissal of my disgust regarding the death of a man who’s probably not that innocent yet dead just the same at his hands. The same hands touching me so gently and with such concern.
Dark spots swim in my vision when I shake my head. I can’t think straight. Unable to understand the conflict of my head and heart any more in my mangled state. I need a break.
I push his forearm caged against my waist and blocking my way. Which of course he fights me trying to sit up with his hands and his snarl.
“What the fuck are you doing? I just told you to stay in bed.”
“First, I don’t take orders from you, and second, I have to go to the bathroom.”
Worry, that never ceases to surprise me he’s capable of feeling lines his forehead, and he slides next to me, drawing down the covers.
“I don’t need your help. I’m not a child.” I only sound like one.
“No, but you do have a concussion, which means you could get dizzy and fall. I won’t let that happen.”
Bossy but kind of sweet, I guess. Before I can tell him I’ll accept his help, his strong arm curls around my shoulders and he guides me up to lean on him. Which feels so nice. Nicer than I want to admit.
We sit for a moment while he rests me against his chest. “Ready?”
I expect him to pull me to my feet but I should’ve known better. Julius Sabatini does everything over the top and full steam. Instead, he picks me up as if I weigh nothing and carries me into his enormous bathroom. “I’m fine. You really don’t have to do this.”
Like I’m not even talking. With a determined expression, he grabs a towel off the bar and spreads the fluffy white fabric across the turquoise counter. My heart spins almost as much as my head from his thoughtfulness as he slowly sits me on the heavy terrycloth.
Confident hands slide my dress up my body and over my head. Which I don’t need to be naked to pee. “What the hell are you doing?”
The only change in his demeanor from my outburst is a stuttered breath and a word that I think means fuck in Italian when he glances down at my bra and panties. Almost as if he’s trying to control himself, his gaze returns to meet mine. Focused on caring for me rather than wanting to fuck me. “You really want to sleep in a dress?”
I guess not.
He cradles me again and takes me to the toilet. Yanking down my thong before he sets me carefully on the surprisingly warm seat. Okay, this is taking it way too far. I shove against him. Without any impact or response but that doesn’t keep me from protesting. “I don’t need an audience.”
His head shakes. Ignoring my argument. “Very soon my son will be coming out of that same area so it’s not like a little urine is going to freak me out.”
Now I’m the one freaking out. What the hell? He thinks we’re going to have a baby together? That’s even crazier than him playing nurse. I open my mouth to dispute that notion immediately and vehemently. But he’s already striding back to the bedroom. Unconcerned with any dissent I might voice. Holy shit.
