Page 34 of Ruthless Mr. Ricco
I flick my eyes between Mr.Brunswick and the couch opposite me before reaching for the buttons on Brook’s suit coat again.
She grabs my wrist but hisses at the movement.I meet and hold her stare until she sighs and loosens her grip.
“I just need some ice.You don’t have to undress me,” she says.
“Don’t fight me, Brook.I can’t stand to see you hurt.”
“I’m fi—”
“You’re not fine.Stop arguing and let me take care of you.”
Her breath hitches and eyes widen.With the single-minded determination I used to become a successful businessman, I ignore her delicate hands on my forearm and unbutton the front of her suit.
“What did your father do, little rabbit?”I ask.
She shakes her head but winces at the movement.
I lift her into a sitting position and push her suit coat off her shoulders.
“Tell me,” I demand as I work the fabric off her arms.
She stiffens when I wrap an arm around her and grab her thigh, ensuring she stays right where I put her, but huffs and leans against me when I begin unbuttoning her undershirt.
“He beat a man for being gay.That’s it.No big story to tell,” she says.
“Uh huh, sure.You walked in on the violence, didn’t you?”I ask.
Her lungs expand.She holds her breath.I do, too.
Each button freed reveals more soft, creamy flesh.Despite the tank top and bra keeping her modesty, her slim curves are pure sin and my hands itch to explore.
When she blows out her breath, my knuckles brush against her breast.I bite the inside of my mouth and deny myself.
“I did.It was horrible,” she says.
The simple words reveal more than if she were to break down into hysterics.She’s too resilient.Too strong.
Whatever she saw must have forced her to break from her father and stay away for almost a decade.Pride flows through me, even though I know her stubbornness is what makes her such a difficult patient to treat.
“What gave you the impression I was like your father?”I growl as I unbutton her cuffs.
She lifts bleak eyes to mine.
“You haven’t done much to prove you aren’t,” she says.
I pause before slipping the last button free.
“Explain,” I demand.
Despite the roughness in my voice, I pull her undershirt off with gentle reverence.
“He blacklisted me from studying law.You hired me as an assistant’s aide and don’t want me anywhere near the legal team.”
The accusation in her tone registers before her words do, but my voice disappears as I reveal the black and purple bruise covering her shoulder and upper arm.My mouth dries and my heart grows heavy as I strip the fabric off her forearm.The bruise extends past her elbow.
I wince when she shrugs.A glance at Mr.Brunswick sends him into motion.He opens the first aid kit, pulls out two tubes of ointment, and heads toward the door for ice from the kitchen.
“Is anything broken?”I ask.
