Page 22 of Unforgivable Ties

“Well...” I said, biting my lower lip.

“Well, what?” he asked, a note of impatience creeping into his tone.

“Are the sheets clean? I wouldn’t want to sleep in it after you’ve recently done it with someone else,” I blurted out. The moment the words left my mouth, a wave of embarrassment washed over me. My cheeks turned crimson, and I looked down.

For the first time, I heard Vincenzo laugh. I was so taken aback by the sound; it was almost musical. A rich baritone that echoed in the cavernous room, filling it with an unexpected warmth.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” he said, “But I don’t bring women home. I take care of that outside of the house. And tonight, I just have work to do—luckily, you’ll be here to patch me up if anything happens.”

Relief rushed through me, knowing I wouldn’t have to listen to him have sex with other women, followed by another unwarranted pang of jealousy.

“Of course,” I muttered under my breath, the color still high in my cheeks. I didn’t dare to meet his gaze after such a revealing statement, but I felt it burning into my side as he continued to chuckle lightly.

“Here’s a key,” he said, taking another keycard out of his wallet and giving it to me.

“Thank you, Vincenzo,” I said, sincerely grateful yet still feeling awkward. The keycard was cold and heavy in my hand, a symbol of his trust perhaps—or simply a token of our strange arrangement.

“No worries, Doc.”

“You’re living with him?!” Jessica’s voice screeched through the other end of the phone.

“Only temporarily,” I responded.

I was working another shift at the warehouse. I had begun to grow accustomed to life here; there were unspoken rules and habits the mafia members followed that I picked up on. Greet each other with a nod, but never carry a casual conversation. Never ask questions about the cargo being moved in and out. I just had to keep my head down and do my work.

It wasn’t bad for paying my $100,000 tuition. I didn’t mind the work—if anything, it was beneficial to me. I had been getting better doing everything on my own. There was no doctor breathing down my neck and I was doing way more procedures than in my classes.

“Only temporarily,” she scoffed. “That’s how it starts.”

“Trust me. I’m going to be looking for my own place immediately.”

“I mean, it’s not terrible, though. I really liked him when I met him,” she said, her voice softer now. “He’s leagues above Preston. I couldn’t stand that guy.”

Following my breakup with Preston, I discovered that no one I knew liked him. My family, friends, even the man that lived on the first floor who I talked to once every couple months.

“You and everyone else,” I grumbled, feeling the prick of repressed memories.

“So what does his apartment look like?” she asked.

Shit. When I told her “he lives in a giant penthouse” it would be an information overload for her brain.

“It’s nice...” I said, trying to figure out how I should break the news.

Suddenly, a tall man with a stab wound in his arm waltzed into the room. For someone who had a giant gash in his arm that was dripping blood, he looked surprisingly unperturbed.

“I’ll call you back,” I said, pressing the end button.

The man was almost as tall as Vincenzo, but was far more lean. He had brown, wavy hair that was still held perfectly in place despite the obvious fight he had just gotten into.

“Hello, Miss Doctor!” he said airily, sitting down on the table, taking off his expensive suit jacket. “New patient.”

“I can see that,” I said, slipping on a pair of gloves. “Can you take your shirt off, too?”

“Oh ho ho. Most women ask me my name before I take my shirt off for them,” he said, unbuttoning his shirt. “You can call me Tall Dino.”

“Calling you Tall Dino implies that there’s a Short Dino,” I responded, examining his arm.

The stab wound was shallow, and it wasn’t in a dangerous spot like his torso or neck. I’d be able to take care of this one by myself and wouldn’t have to bother Cesare.

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