Page 58 of The Consequence of You
“Greedy girl” he whispered, and his words only made me wetter. He curled his fingers, finding my most sensitive part, and he rubbed. I let out an audible sigh of pleasure and he grinned smugly, I shut my eyes, but he instantly stopped his ministrations. “Nope. Remember what I said? Eyes on me.” At his demand I met his gaze again, and something in his expression triggered my orgasm. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I was utterly lost to the sensations. My thighs and pussy clamped down on Asher’s fingers, and my whole body shuddered with pleasure.
Most days last week we’d found time to fulfil urges I didn’t realise needed fulfilling, and I had no complaints. This arrangement seemed to suit both of us, and I’d happily reported back to Dahlia that all was fine for both of us. She still seemed a little wary, but I had no such worries.
I’m volunteering at the nursing home again today, and Rossi had just pulled up outside. I open the door as dark clouds gather, and rain starts to fall. Running indoors, I tell Rossi to stay in the car. He watches me in, and I know he’ll stay outside being vigilant for my entire shift. It’s going to be a cold one, so I decide to ask Susan if there is somewhere he can wait indoors today. I’m not sure what she’ll say, but I can’t leave him outside, freezing his arse off. I sign in quickly and go in search of my manager. However, all thoughts of Rossi are forgotten when I see some of the nursing staff standing together outside one of the bedrooms.
They’re visibly upset. My heart sinks. I know what that means. I’ve only seen it one other time since I’ve been here. That was right at the beginning, before I had got to know any of the residents. Since then, I’ve got to know them all, and the thought of anything happening to any ofthem has my heart lurching. As I walk closer, I realise whose room it is.
Mrs Hughes.
She was suffering from a chest infection the last time I saw her, but she was getting over it. She was improving. I bite back a sob.Please not Mrs Hughes. I’d be upset if any of the residents passed away, of course, but she’s the resident I spend most time with. I consider her a friend. We bonded over our love of art, and I hope against hope that my assumptions are wrong.
Stealing myself, I walk over to the nurses. When they see me, their faces fall further, which just confirms what I’m dreading.
“We’re sorry, Callie. We have some bad news for you. Mrs Hughes’ pneumonia worsened over the last few days, and she passed away in her sleep last night.”
Tears threaten as I try to keep my emotions in check.
“Was she in any pain?” I choke out. I’m not sure I’ll be able to bear it if she suffered.
“Oh sweetheart. It was peaceful.” One of the nurses leads me over to sit on a chair. “I promise.”
“Did she get a chance to speak to her children?” I know how precious her grown-up children and her grandkids were to her. They live abroad, but they did their best to visit when they could.
“Yes, we arranged video calls during the week. They’d hoped to visit this weekend, but unfortunately it was too late.”
“I can’t believe it.”
“It’s terribly sad. She was a wonderful lady, and she really will be missed.” Nurse Margaret pats my arm. “I just have to make a few arrangements, but if you want to go home, I’m sure Susan will understand.” I nod, not sureif I want to go home, or be here, around people who knew her. For now, though, I need fresh air.
Walking to the back of the building, I let myself out into the nursing home’s private gardens. The rain is falling harder now, but I can’t find it in me to care.
We aren’t supposed to have favourites, but I loved Mrs Hughes. When we first met, I hated that I couldn’t communicate with her. She’s the reason I’d learnt BSL. I wasn’t particularly fluent, but I’d learnt enough to get by, and Mrs Hughes never got frustrated with me when I made mistakes. We’d laughed over the years at some of the signs I got wrong.
I’ll miss her so much. I sniff, suddenly realising tears are cascading over my cheeks, mixing with the rain. I’m soaked through now; my thin cardigan and vest top are clinging to me, and I begin to shiver uncontrollably. I need to go back indoors and find something dry to wear.
My eyes blur, and I swipe at them unsuccessfully with my damp sleeve. Blinking, I try my best to clear my vision. That’s when I see it. The glint of light reflecting off a long silver blade.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CALLIE
Before I can react, the cold knife is pressed against my throat. Not hard enough to break the skin, but hard enough to know the man wielding it is deadly serious about his intentions.
Carlo.
The guard Rossi fired a few weeks ago grabs my arm, and twists it tightly behind me as he snarls in my face.
“I knew they’d take their eye off the prize, eventually.” I blink rapidly and try to shake him off, but he presses the blade harder into my neck, and this time, there’s a sharp painful sting. Immediately I stop wriggling. My self-defence lessons taught me to do what it takes to survive primarily, and then think about escape, and right now my most immediate action needs to be to stay still, or I’ll be bleeding out before I get a chance to even come up with a plan.
He moves around my back, gripping both my shaking hands in one of his, the other still holding the knife to my carotid.
“Stay quiet or I’ll slit your throat, right here, right now. Do not underestimate me.” I manage a small nod as my stomach lurches violently and bile rises in my throat. He smells of stale sweat and his hard muscle has me completely outmatched at this point. I can only hope whatever his intentions are, whatever his motive is, he needs me alive to achieve it.
There is a rumble of thunder, and the rain continues to batter down, reminding me I’m not dead yet.
Carlo shoves me hard in the lower back and I momentarily lose my footing on the wet grass. He yanks me back up by the arm before I hit the ground, my shoulder tearing at the awkward angle. The knife cuts into my skin further, and time stretches impossibly thin as it dawns on me, this prick could accidentally kill, even if it’s not his intention. I try to right myself so I can take the pressure off my neck.
Taking small, unsteady steps, I move with him as he directs me towards the back corner of the extensive gardens. He must have come in through the fencing at the back to avoid Rossi’s post out front. At least I hope that’s what’s happened, and he’s not hurt Rossi on his way to me.
