Page 92 of Deal with the Devil
I shake his hand and walk him out to the elevator, thanking him for showing up on such short notice. Once he’s gone, I return to Portia’s bedroom to find her struggling to get out of bed.
She’s bracing her weight on one elbow, her brow pinched, her other hand clutching the bedsheets like she might wrench them off entirely.
I leave her alone for five seconds and this is what happens.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I bark, rushing over. My hand shoots out to steady her as her body wobbles.
She winces as I gently guide her back against the pillows. “I needed to grab something.”
I grimace behind the mask, jaw locked tight. “If there’s something you need, that’s what Mara is for.”
“I don’t feel like yelling halfway across the penthouse every time I want something. It’s exhausting.” Her dark eyes lift to meet mine, showing my reflection in them, once again serving as a reminder of who’s really at fault here.
This isn’t a situation Portia brought on herself.
This is a situationI’veput her in and caused to happen.
I’m the reason her body buckled under pressure. I’m the one who pushed her too far, whose presence has put her under such extreme duress it’s affected her health.
I draw a slow breath and temper my voice into a calmer tone. “Tell me what it is. I’ll get it myself.”
She hesitates half a second, then says, “The heating pad. It’ll help with the ache in my pelvis.”
I nod and cross the room in two quick strides. I return with it in hand for her to take.
“Anything else?”
“That’s okay,” she mumbles. “You can go now.”
I can tell by how she won’t look at me directly even as she utters the words that I’ve done some real damage to this woman.
For as protective as I felt finding her unconscious on the floor, I was not only the cause. I’ve made her feel so uncomfortable and reluctant in my presence that she won’t even ask for basic assistance when she needs it.
“It’s me, isn’t it?” I ask. “I’m the reason you had this flare-up.”
She draws a shaky breath, fumbling with the heating pad. It has a cord attached to it that needs to be plugged into the outlet by the bed.
But that’s too far from where she’s propped up against the pillows. I watch firsthand as she once again tries to reach over and do it herself. I take the plug from her grasp before she can and slide it into the socket.
She settles back against the pillows. “It’s not exactly easy being held captive.”
“That’s true,” I admit. “But that doesn’t mean your health isn’t important. You still need to be taken care of.”
She lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a scoff and a sigh. The long and slow blink she takes makes me think she’s tempted to even roll her eyes.
I cup her face by the chin first, catching her off guard and forcing her gaze to mine.
“Dolcezza,” I say, my voice suddenly huskier. “I mean every word of that. It’s important you are cared for. So tell me. What else do you need?”
She pauses as she blinks up at me with her beautiful dark eyes and long lashes that I’m surehe’sfallen in love with a million times over.
“Some herbal tea… would be nice,” she murmurs finally.
I nod, already turning to leave. “Coming right up.”
An hour later, Portia and I are in her bedroom, halfway through the cult classicMy Cousin Vinny, over warm bowls of stracciatella soup courtesy of Mara, and any bad air between us has been cleared. At least for the moment.
I’m not entirely sure how we arrived at this strange détente, though it started when I brought the herbal tea she asked for and hovered by the door longer than I meant to. She didn’t tell me to go. Maybe because she was too tired. Or maybe because for once she didn’t feel like fighting.
