Page 33 of Vicious Heir

He scoffed, and that tough exterior was back. “Who are you? My mother?”

I flicked him again, and he yelped when he startled. “I’m Angel’s wife,” I said, throwing his words back at him. “So you have to listen to me, right?”

Manny scowled. “Not ‘til Tío Gustavo dies, and Angel takes over.”

Before we could continue to argue, Omar came back through the door with a first aid kit. “Manuel,” he barked. “¡Un poco de respeto!”

Manny’s shoulders slumped. “Sorry,” he muttered.

I finished rolling up his sleeve. “It’s fine,” I said. “Just sit still, okay?” I looked at his arm and winced. It was a graze, thankfully, but the flesh was torn. My hands trembled, and nausea gripped my stomach. I took a breath and then held out my hand for the kit.

“I need to get back,” Omar said. “Will you be alright?”

Eyes still on Manny’s wound, I told him, “We’re fine.”

I heard him leave as I opened the kit. It was similar to the one that I used when Angel was punished by his father; it took no time at all to dig out the liquid stitches and sterile gauze pads. “Is this going to hurt?” Manny asked. For all of his bluster, he soundedsoyoung.

“Not as badly as getting shot,” I said.

“That’s…not as comforting as you might think,” he said.

I patted his hand. “I know.” With one hand, I squeezed the wound together, and then I used the liquid stitches to glue them together. Manny bit back a whimper at the burn, but he sat still while I blew on it, trying to dry it as quickly as possible.

When I was satisfied that the wound wasn’t going to tear itself open, I opened a sterile gauze and covered the area and taped it down. It wasn’t the most professional work, but it would hold. I fished out some of the higher dosage painkillers out of the kit — they weren’t labeled with anything more than a dosage, but I wasn’t going to question it — and gave it to him. Manny dry-swallowed them. “You’re going to scar,” I said, “but you won’t need real stitches.”

Manny gave me a wobbly smile. “Thank you, Emma.”

I ruffled his hair. “You’re welcome, kid.”

“I’m not a kid,” he insisted, but the very real fear on his face made him look even younger than fourteen.

I hushed him. “Lie down,” I said. “Rest until Angel’s done with his meeting.”

He laid back. “You’re not going to leave me, are you?” Manny sounded so afraid, and my heart throbbed in my chest. Poor, sweet kid. He shouldn’t be mixed up in all of this.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I said. “Angel and Omar can handle the meeting without me; I wasn’t much help out there anyway.”

Manny sniffled softly; the painkillers helped lull him into an uneasy sleep. I sat, stroking his hair, until the office door swung open again. “Is he all right?” Angel asked.

I glanced at my husband. For as handsome as he was, especially in that suit, I was no longer in a mood to flirt. My skin felt like it didn’t fit anymore; it felt itchy. “He was shot,” I said flatly. “No, he’s not all right.”

Angel sighed. “Emma —"

“He’s fine,” I said. “He probably needs real stitches, but I did what I could and gave him some painkillers to numb it all.”

Angel crossed the room to me and pulled me to my feet. I wasn’t sure what to expect — a reprimand or something similar — but for him to wrap me in his arms wasn’t it. He buried his face in my hair and breathed deeply. “Thank you for taking care of him,” he said.

Not even when he was talking about his siblings had I ever heard Angel so emotional about someone. He was worried about the boy. “You’re welcome,” I said and put my arms around him, holding him as much as he was holding me. “How did the rest of the meeting go?”

Angel was quiet, and for a moment, I doubted that he would tell me. Then, he said, “We’re going to partner with Miguel to build a facility in Venezuela.”

I wasn’t sure if that was entirely a good thing or not, but it was the desired outcome. “I’m glad you got what you wanted,” I said. I couldn’t bring myself to say that I was proud of him because I couldn’t be.

He hummed against my hair and then let me go. Reaching over, he gently shook Manny awake. “Time to get up,mijo,” he said.

Manny jerked into consciousness, yelping as he shifted. “Angel, I hurt,” he said in a drowsy, childish kind of way. Noticing me there, he forced himself to sit up. “But it’s fine. I’m fine.”

He wasn’t, and Angel and I both could see it. “Tell me what happened,” Angel said.

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