Page 48 of Brutal Heir
Matteo: Oooh, someone is getting a little possessive. Is that naughty little nurse giving you more than just sponge baths?
Me: Stop.
Matteo: Wow, this sounds serious.
Me: Just get me the info,coglione.
Matteo: Fine. I’ll have the video to you by tomorrow at the latest. Also, you’re no fun anymore.
Me: Getting blown up will do that to you.
Matteo:
Sliding my phone back into my pocket, I try not to wince as I brush over some sensitive skin. I’m in fitted slacks and a nice polo shirt since I’d planned on stopping by the Vault after therapy. The sweat makes it stick to my ravaged skin and already I’m regretting not having taken a shower after the workout. But the idea of bringing Rory into the changing room had me opting for sweatiness.
It's one thing getting a hard-on for your nurse in the privacy of your own home, but at a physical therapy center? That’s something else altogether.
The ride down to the Meatpacking District is an unusually quiet one. Getting Rory to stop talking is typically the biggest challenge. Today, she’s silent and withdrawn, clearly still affected by whatever the hell happened outside of that building.
Who was that guy?
The moment she bumped into him everything changed.
An ex, maybe?
Just the idea of another man’s hands on her has fury pummeling my veins. Shit, when did this happen? Matteo’s right. When did I get so possessive over my nurse?
She’s notjustyour nurse,coglione. Again, that voice echoes in the dark corners of my mind. And she sounds an awful lot like Serena.
Even if I wanted more, which I don’t, how could she ever want me? Not when I look like this…
She deserves better than a broken man with a violent legacy and a graveyard of secrets. But anytime those piercing eyes meet mine or worse, her arm brushes my own, that logic dies a quick, unceremonious death.
Disgusted with myself for even considering something so ludicrous, I’m relieved when the car slows, and the familiar velvet rope of the Vault comes into view. Twisting my head to face Rory, I whisper, “You don’t have to come in if you don’t want to. I can have Sammy drop you off at the penthouse and come back for me.”
She peels herself from the leather seat and slides to the edge. “No, I’m coming with you.”
“Relax, Red, it’s not like I’m going to have a bandage emergency while I’m in there.” I eye her green scrubs and that crazy little leprechaun shooting me the middle finger. As much as I enjoy her company, I’d rather not walk into my club with my nurse trailing behind me.
Her expression softens, as if she’s read my innermost thoughts, then she reaches for my duffle bag.
“What are you doing?” It’s bad enough she has to bathe me, now she’s going through my sweaty laundry?
“I brought a change of clothes too.” She shrugs like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like she hadn’t been scared shitless only a second ago.
She knew I’d be embarrassed…
The hint of a smile threatens but before it smothers my face, she twirls her finger in the air, motioning for me to turn around. I don’t move, too entranced by this woman. She was a trembling, quivering mess and now, only minutes later, she’s managed the wherewithal to change out of her scrubs just for me.
Her fingers fumble with the zipper of her bag, movements just a shade too rushed. She smiles, but it’s a half-second late, like she’s still catching up to herself.
“Well, come on then, McFecker, turn around so I can change.” Her voice is back to normal, but a hint of the darkness still lingers. She hides it well, though.
I need to fix this somehow. Or at least distract her. “You know, it’s hardly fair. You get to see me naked all the time, and I get nothing.”
She grins, a real smile that reaches her eyes and lights them up like the first glint of sunrise on a frost-covered morning. It’s unexpected, breathtaking, and impossible to look away from.
“As soon as you get your nursing degree, you can see me naked all you want, Rossi.”
