Page 13 of Brutal Heir
Returning to my club, my kingdom as a broken king was more painful than the countless skin grafts and excruciating hours of physical therapy. Fuck, that man made it seem like itwas my fault, like I’d lost control of my staff. That never would have happened before…
I roll my shoulders, grimacing as the grafted skin pulls. My shirt’s soaked through. I need a shower. I need a drink. I need?—
The doorbell rings, and the unmistakable click of the front door opening sends my head spinning over my shoulder.
“Hey, boss, there’s a Miss Rory Delaney here to see you.” Johnny’s voice booms down the hallway and I slide off the barstool, my entire body screaming at the movement.
I freeze mid-step as soft footsteps echo down the marble hallway. My father promised to send someone. A new nurse.
No fucking way he sent hertoday. I turn toward the door, scowl already locked in place.
And then I see her.
Hair like fire. Eyes like a bloody Irish war. Scrubs clinging to every sharp little curve like they were made to be sinned on.
I brace myself for pity from the gorgeous redhead.
But when her eyes meet mine, the look is not what I expect.
Not even close.
She doesn’t recoil. Doesn’t pity me. For a half-second, something dangerous flares up. Hope. But I crush it before it can breathe.
She marches across the foyer like she owns the place, a duffel bag bigger than her hung over her shoulder. With green leprechaun scrubs, messy hair pinned back with something sharp, and a mouth made for trouble, she eyes me. She’s small, but not delicate, more like compact dynamite. Despite her red hair being tied up, high, messy curls slip loose like fire begging to be touched. Or burned by.
And her eyes. Bright emerald, defiant, and locked straight on me.
No hesitation. No flicker of revulsion. No soft gasp at my face. Just a slow sweep from head to toe like she’s assessing damage at a car wreck.
I hate her already.
“Who the hell are you?” I bark.
She holds out her small hand, but there’s nothing meek about her presence. “Rory Delaney, your new nurse. Nice to meet ya.”
I force my shoulders back despite the overwhelming urge to lean against the kitchen counter for support. Instead, I press my arms across my chest and glare down at the tiny fireball. “Well, I’m sorry you came out all this way, but I don’t want or need a nurse.”
“No,I’msorry, you must’ve expected someone who gives a damn about what you want.” Her lips twitch. Not a smile, nope, something more dangerous. “I’m here because your father has offered to pay me well, and frankly, you look like hell.”
I nearly choke on my own spit. “Is this how you speak to all your clients?”
“Only the ones I like.” She shoots me a wink.
“You’re crazy.”
“And you’re rude,” she fires back, voice laced in a sharp Irish lilt and zero fear. “Looks like we’re both off to a brilliant start.”
I blink. The breath I didn’t realize I was holding lodges in my chest.
She walks past me like I’m not the heir to the Gemini empire, gaze locked on the sprawling park below. Like I’m not a man with scars that make grown men flinch. Like I’m… nothing.
It’s infuriating. And refreshing.
“So I take it you’re the new babysitter my father hired behind my back?” I trace her movements by the window but remain beside the safety of the island in case my knees give out.
“No, I’m your nurse like I said a second ago,” she says flatly, spinning to face me before dropping her bag on my kitchen counter. “And if you were capable of taking care of yourself, I wouldn’t be here.”
I take a step forward, stupid, considering the pain flaring in my leg, but I need to close the distance between us. “You don’t know a damn thing about what I need.”
