Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
“Just wrap them up,” I said as he hemmed and hawed on what to do about them once he was done. “I’m gonna need to borrow socks. And maybe slides if you have any.”
“For what?” he asked, looking up, his brows pinched.
“So I can go home,” I said, hearing the way my words were dragging, too tired even to enunciate properly.
“You can’t go home,” he said, shaking his head.
“I’m not going to the fucking hospital,” I snapped, getting absolutely no reaction out of Dav, who was used to my outbursts at this point.
“I wasn’t talking about the hospital. You need someone to keep an eye on you,” he clarified. “You’re staying here tonight.”
He had that edge to his voice that all the guys in this organization did when they were going to dig their heels in about something.
But I didn’t get this far in my life and career by bending to the wishes or demands of the men around me.
“No, I’m not. I’m going home.”
“Yeah?” he asked, head tipping to the side. “And who’s gonna help you wrap those ribs up again after you shower? Pick things up for you so you don’t fucking black out from pain? Feed you?”
“I can take care of myself,” I insisted, even if it was the last goddamn thing in the world I wanted. Just once, once in my hard-ass-fucking-life, it would be nice not to have to be so strong.
“I’m not saying you can’t, Cinna. I’m saying I want to help.”
“Why?”
“Why?” he asked, snorting. “Because you showed up at my doorstep. Beaten to fucking shit. Bleeding. And crying. Cin,” he said, cutting me off when I tried to object. But to what, I had no idea. He was right on all of those points. Even if my ego cringed at the reminder of the last bit. “It’s okay to accept help sometimes. Let me help.”
“I’ll just crash until the morning,” I relented, not entirely sure that I could stay awake even on a cab ride back to my place. Let alone get myself up to my apartment. I just needed some rest. Then I could get back to my place. Hide away while I healed.
“Okay,” he agreed, reaching for gauze and slathering on triple antibiotic ointment, before pressing the pad to my foot, then reaching for a roll of medical tape, and securing it.
The process continued on my other foot until he was satisfied.
“You gonna pitch a fit if I suggest I carry you to bed?” he asked, giving me that boyish grin I somehow knew would make accepting his assistance easier.
“Just this once… no,” I admitted, watching relief move across his stupidly handsome features before he was reaching for me, careful not to jostle me as he pulled me into his arms, then against his chest.
I’d never been carried before.
I wasn’t a dainty woman, all short with bird-like bones. With my usual boots on, I stood pretty close to eye-to-eye with these men in the Lombardi crime family. I had hips and tits and enough muscle to allow me to take care of myself when shit got dicey.
So, no, I wasn’t the kind of woman who men looked at and generally thought to pick up and carry around.
Dav, though, didn’t grunt or wince. And, believe me, I was looking for it, intent on teasing him about it so the moment didn’t feel quite so, I dunno, intimate, as it did.
He just lifted me up like a fucking feather pillow, then walked me out of the bathroom and into the hallway, heading toward the bedroom.
If my head leaned against his shoulder, so what? It didn’t mean anything.
“Wait,” I said as he lowered me onto a king-sized bed with sheets that smelled like him. Leather, tobacco, and just the slightest hint of something sweeter. Like vanilla. It was a scent unique to him, and it always clung to him like a second skin. But in his bed? Fuck, it surrounded me, scented every breath.
“What?” he asked.
“This is your bed.”
“Don’t worry, sweet girl. Your virtue is safe,” he teased. “I’m not sleeping in it with you.”
I should have argued more.
But he was already drawing up the covers.
And the smell and the warmth were too comforting to object to.
So I just… let him tuck me in.
I didn’t even make a snide comment about calling me a ‘sweet girl.’
“Rest, okay?” he asked, his thumb sliding across my chin. “I’ll be one room away if you need anything.”
With that, he left me alone, leaving the door open a crack, so he could hear me if I called.
I was out cold before he even finished cleaning up his kit in the hallway bathroom.
CHAPTER FOUR
Cinna
For just a short, dream-soaked, disconnected moment, there was no agony as I slipped from unconsciousness to awake.
But before my eyes—or eye, in this case, since the other was swollen shut—fluttered open, the pain shot through me.