Page 23 of Fight Me Daddy

Gabriele rose a brow. "I have, but you won't be. Not while I'm here."

I huffed. "Who asked you to be here?"

He stopped, the beer halfway to his lips before he lowered it. "I just made you a meal. The least you could do is say thank you, eat it, and be appreciative. I don't cook for just anyone."

I picked up my fork and toyed with a piece of penne. He was being…real. I felt like shit for what I’d said. "Why did you cook for me?"

"You needed to eat and you have a fucked up hand," he said before he took a swig of beer.

"Okay..." I frowned as I looked up at him. "Or is it because you want me to heal up so I can go back to being your little slave?"

Gabriele stared at me without saying a word. I shifted in my seat under his intense gaze, my stomach tying itself into knots. Shouldn't have said that. I searched his face to see if he was about to lose his temper, but he didn’t. Instead, some other emotion flickered over his face. Gabriele stood up and grabbed my plate.

"Don't eat it then," he grumbled.

My good hand shot out and I grabbed his arm. "Sorry," I said, the word spilling out of my lips quickly as my stomach dropped. "I'll eat it."

I think I hurt his feelings. Do Bianchi's even have feelings?

Gabriele didn't look at me, but he put the plate in front of me none too gently and sat down again. I had to switch to using my right hand to eat. Food spilled off of my fork multiple times before I was ready to give up.

“Here,” Gabriele grumbled again as he used his fork to feed me. “Take your time.”

I blinked at him. Gabriele Bianchi was feeding me in my little kitchen. I didn’t know what to do with that.

"That's good," I said as I stabbed at another piece. I couldn’t take him feeding me again without melting. "I didn't think you could cook."

"What? Because I kill people I can't have other interests?"

I nearly choked and pounded on my chest to make the food go down. "You say that so casually," I said as I shook my head. "How are you cool with it?"

Gabriele shrugged. "Death is a part of life. We all have to go some time." He nodded toward me. "Finish your food and take your medicine."

I frowned. "I might just take some Tylenol or something. Pain meds make me a little crazy."

He narrowed his eyes. "You're going to take those pills Doc gave you or I'll shove them down your throat."

"Does everything you say have to be a threat?" I snapped.

"When it comes to you? Apparently fuckin' so."

I caved and shook my head before I moved around in my seat. The bottle hit the floor and I sighed before I reached over to get them. I winced a bit as my fingers grazed the bottle and a pair of shiny, leather shoes entered my field of vision. Gabriele snatched up the bottle and pushed me upright in my seat.

"Finish your food."

"I can take pills by myself."

"Keep protesting," he said as he opened the bottle and tapped out two pills. "Do you really think it's going to work for you?"

My shoulders slumped as I held out my hand and took the medicine from him. He was right about one thing, there was no point in arguing with him. When Gabriele wanted to do something, that was exactly what he did. And I was tired of fighting with him. My hand hurt, my mind was a mess, and all I wanted was to take that rest that I’d been ordered to.

I tossed the pills into my mouth and chugged them down with the water Gabriele had sat out. His eyes stayed trained on me until I started eating again. Satisfied, he put the medicine away on the counter before he joined me again.

"Once you're done you need to rest," Gabriele pointed out. "I'm giving you some time off, but it won't be forever. You'd better take advantage of it while you can."

"Yes, sir," I said with a hint of sarcasm in my voice. "Thank you for the generosity."

Gabriele sucked his teeth. "That's it. I've had enough." He walked over and yanked me up by my upper arm, his grip tightening. "Move."

---