Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 57205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
The tears just keep on running.
They drip the whole time I clean Gio’s wounds and putting fresh bandages on.
“Hey.” Junior’s standing in the doorway, holding my phone. He catches sight of the tears before I quickly brush them away. “You okay?”
“Yep,” I say with determination. Like I’m going to somehow make it true.
“What happened?”
“Nothing. I don’t want to talk about it.”
I grab my phone out of his hand, since I’m assuming he’s bringing it because I got a message. He still refuses to let me have it or use it without him watching my every move, but at least he checks my messages frequently and shows me as soon as something comes in.
“Text from your mom,” he tells me.
Fresh tears start because I already feel her sympathy, her support, her love. My mom is so connected to me and my emotions, it’s sometimes scary.
Sending you energy and healing light on this difficult day.
I snort-choke back a sob. Coming from my mom, that’s a real promise. In addition to nursing at the hospital, she also volunteers as an energy healer, going around giving reiki treatments to anyone who wants it. And she’s a powerful healer. Sometimes I swear she’s the one who saves the most lives at that place.
“Why is today difficult?” Junior asks.
“None of your business,” I snap, thrusting the phone back at him after sending my mom a heart emoji. “Let’s move him.” Every eight hours we roll Gio from his side, to his back, to his other side. Even though I could probably do it on my own, I get Junior to help, because Gio’s such a big guy.
We roll him over and he wakes and uses the bed pan, cursing in Italian the whole time. Junior answers in Italian, using calm, reassuring tones and Gio settles and closes his eyes once more.
“We should get you out of the house.” Junior’s looking at me like I’m going to crack. “You’re probably sick of being cooped up here. You definitely deserve a break. I’ll get Paolo to come stay with Gio, and I’ll take you anywhere that sounds good.”
My lips tremble. I seriously can’t take Junior being nice right now.
I would much rather have him be an asshole so I can get prickly and keep my shit together.
“Or Paolo can take you out, if you need a break from me.” He takes a step back and shoves his hands in his pockets.
My lip curls. “I’m not going anywhere with Paolo.”
Junior pulls out his phone and starts thumbing over the screen. “Where do you want to go?”
I shrug. “I’m really not in the mood, Junior.”
“No shit, doll. I’m not asking you on a date. I’m trying to figure out what would be...I don’t know, nourishing to you.” He makes a big gesture with his hands as he talks.
“Nourishing?”
“Nurturing—whatever the fuck the word is. What do you do to make yourself feel better? Go see a movie? How about exercise? I’ll take you to my gym up the street. You can take yoga or Zumba or whatever.”
I perk up a tiny bit over Zumba and he catches it. The Latin cardio dance class is my favorite form of exercise.
“You like that idea?” He scrolls on his phone. “There’s Zumba at 11:00 a.m.” I don’t know how he knew I wanted Zumba and not yoga. The man’s a mind reader.
It’s hard to imagine I could muster the energy to do a cardio class right now, though. “I don’t know,” I say.
He points at me, the scary-stern face on. “You’re going to Zumba. And what else? You like shopping? A little retail therapy?”
I snort. “Yeah right. With what money?”
“You can spend my money. That’ll be fun, no?” He tips his head to catch my eye.
A reluctant smile tugs at my lips. “Could be,” I admit.
Damn my turn-on with men spending money on me.
Damn Junior for showing up like a white knight when I’m at my weakest.
“Come on, I’ll take you to breakfast.”
Oh shit. Now it does feel like a date. And he’s spending money on me. Taking care of me.
It scares me how much I want to be taken care of. Especially by a wealthy, powerful man like Junior.
But that’s exactly why I need to keep the barriers up around my heart. Because I already fear I won’t be walking out of here with it intact.
“Should I change?” I ask dubiously, looking down at my scrubs.
He shrugs. “Not for me. Wear whatever makes you feel good, doll.”
Yeah, not scrubs. Scrubs are the world’s ugliest uniform ever. I grab a pair of jeans and fitted long-sleeved shirt and take them into the bathroom to change.
Not that Junior hasn’t already seen all of me.
But Gio hasn’t, and I don’t want him getting an eyeful if he comes back around.
Junior’s still on his phone when I come back out, but when he looks up, his eyes bug out a little. The emerald green shirt is sexy—I brought it on purpose to torture Junior. It hugs my breasts and opens in a V to show a little cleavage. The jeans are flattering too—they’re tight and hug my ass, but the denim has a little stretch to it, so they’re ultra-comfortable. I pull on a pair of boots and fluff my still-wet hair.