Page 45 of Wounded King
The next day…
"Don't," I tell Marcello, slapping lightly at his fingers playing with a strand of my hair while I change his bandages.
"So silky," he remarks, ignoring my request.
Over the last couple of days, he hasn't made any more direct advances, but his indirect ones are hitting me deeper, like this right now, where he's holding part of my hair hostage.
"You're making it hard for me to focus," I complain.
"Ah, so I am having an effect on you?"
I roll my eyes, "Of course that's how you would interpret my comment. Has it ever occurred to you that maybe your advances are making me uncomfortable because you're my boss?"
He laughs. He actually laughs.
"Ah, Violet, I love your sense of humor."
For the hundredth time today, I reach for outrage, but no, nothing, nada. Not even a hint can I summon to my defenses, not even when I think of Mom and how I should feel guilty. Luciano enters with a stack of documents in his hands, distracting me from my mulling.
"What's that?" I ask.
"Put them on the desk," Marcello orders.
"I know you've been out of the house," I pull the sticky gauze off his hip wound. "This is fresh blood. You aggravated your wound."
"Busted," Luciano snarks from the desk.
Marcello doesn't even try to look guilty.
"Since you won't help me with my… other needs, I had to go somewhere to have it taken care of."
Abruptly, my head turns up. His words slice into me like a knife. They shouldn't, but did hereallyjust say he went somewhere to have sex?
It's none of my business. None.He's your patient.
"Does that bother you, Violet?" His voice is low and teasing.
"Why would it bother me?" I ask, not looking up as I clean the seam, checking to make sure it doesn't need to be restitched.
"Hmm."
Oh my God, his little sound caresses me like a lover's hand.
"It doesn't," I assure him, finally meeting his gaze. "It only bothers me because you managed to delay the healing process by probably a week."
"Is that so?" He smirks.
Oh, how I wish I could wipe that smirk off his face.
"That's so." I nod. "As a matter of fact, I have a date tonight, too."
His expression tightens. "Since you're working for me for the moment, I need his name to have him vetted."
Fuck. A name?
I was just throwing it out there. I have no idea why I thought it might bother him. But his little admission threw my mind into an emotional twister, and I wasn't thinking straight.
Lies have short legs, my mom always said.Stumps, I think,in my case, they're stumps.
