“A smart mouth, I didn’t see that coming. I thought you were a sweet girl.”
Oh, so he’s going to be snarky now, is he?
“Well, I assumed you were going to be a grateful boy, Mr. Castillo. I just left a night out with my friends to come here because of your little freak-out episode.”
Shit, I need to knock it off. I have better interpersonal skills than this. I need to pull myself together. Marcus looks smug, as if he has accomplished exactly what he set out to do: irritate, alienate, and push me away.
“Look, obviously, you were confused when you came around. You probably just remembered my name because I was the last person who spoke to you. I’m sure you’re irritable and disoriented. Let’s get you comfortable, and I’ll be on my way.”
I’m trying to show some compassion, but he’s not making it easy.
He reaches out and grabs my wrist. Every single muscle in my body seizes up. I lick my lips and hold my breath waiting for whatever is coming next.
PTSD’s no joke, whenever I feel threatened my mind is instantly thrown back to the dirty house that smelled like urine and mold where I was held against my will for three long, torturous days.
A layer of perspiration breaks out all over my body, and I imagine I’ve turned a lovely shade of gray from the look on Marcus’s face. He eases his grip, but he doesn’t let go.
“Don’t leave me,” he says in a deep, quiet voice.
Slowly, I take my free hand and remove his from my wrist and step out of his reach. Any other time in my life I would have run away and never looked back. But today is different. Today I sit down in the chair next to the bed.
“I’ll stay, but do not grab me like that again.”
The panic leaves his eyes, and he relaxes until I see what a handsome man he is when he isn’t anxious and threatened. This is my Marcus, the one I knew before he woke up and started terrorizing people.
“You’re staying?” he asks, with a touch of irresistible vulnerability.
“Yes, I promise. You should close your eyes now and rest, I’ll be here when you wake up,” I say, and against my better judgment I reach out to cover his hand with mine.
“I don’t want to sleep anymore; how long have I been out?”
“Eight days.”
“Eight days? Fuck, I have a business to run. Where is my phone? I have to find out what’s going on.” He snatches his hand out from under mine, and I feel the panic rising in him again. His wild eyes scan the room for his phone, and he clutches the sheets.
“Hang on, let me see if I can find it for you. It may have been destroyed in the accident, though.” His eyes lock with mine, and I know he doesn’t want me going anywhere, even if it’s just to search for his phone. No matter how badly he needs to contact someone at work, I sense having me stay with him takes priority over anything.
“Is there a phone in here I can use?” he asks. I hand him mine, and he holds it in his palm staring at the keyboard.
“I can’t remember the number,” he says, shocked that his memory has failed him.
“You probably use your contact list when you call familiar places,” I say.
Frown lines deepen on his forehead. “No. I never forget anything; I have a photographic memory.”
“Who do you want to call? I’ll look up the number for you.”
“Dominus, I need to talk to Elijah. Now,” he says, with a demanding bark.
Ok, ok, Mr. Bossy Butt. Keep your gown on. I bite my tongue to keep from saying something that could set him off and Google the number for Dominus. I dial the number and hand the phone over to him.
It couldn’t have rung once before he starts snapping at the person on the other end of the line.
“This is Mr. Castillo, give me Elijah. Right now.” No warm fuzzies with this man. I’m glad he’s not my boss. Seconds later he’s talking to Elijah who must have been close by unless the person answering the call knew how to work some serious magic.
“Elijah, I need you to update me. No, I am fine, get here as soon as the kitchen closes. Kimberly can handle the club. I have been down for eight fucking days; I want to be filled in on everything. Bring my laptop and get me a new phone.” He disconnects the call without so much as a thank you, have a nice night, glad you kept my business going while I was in a coma.
Marcus Castillo puts the boss in ‘bossy’.
He drops the phone on the bed next to him and turns his attention to me.
“What?” he asks.
“You’re a grouch. You’re lucky to have somebody like Elijah to keep your business running smoothly during a crisis.” His outburst on the phone intimidates me a little, but not so much that I won’t speak my mind, and that takes him by surprise.
“No one talks to me like that. You would be smart to remember that.”
What? Ok, I’m all for keeping the peace, but this guy is too much.
“Mr. Castillo, you would be smart to remember that you’re incapacitated and require help doing the most basic of things.”
His bright green eyes narrow and one corner of his mouth twitches as he studies me for a beat.
“I’m going to enjoy your smart mouth, Miss Imani.”
I feel the heat of my blush creeping up my neck. What does he mean by that? A powerful combination of incredible attraction and overwhelming irritation clash inside me. A vision of Marcus and I entangled in an erotic kiss, our naked bodies pressed together, flashes through my mind.
He is so cocky it drives me crazy. He makes me want to shout at him and straddle him at the same time. How does a man in a hospital gown with a cast on one leg turn me on with the twitch of a lip and a provocative word or two?
For the first time in my adult life, I feel a yearning so deep it’s impossible to ignore. He knows he’s affecting me this way. He’s doing it on purpose to throw me off balance, and it’s working. What he doesn’t know, though, is that I am a master at deflecting and now seems like the perfect time to put that skill to use.
“Mr. Castillo, you’ve had a stressful night. I think you need some rest. If you don’t want to sleep, just close your eyes. Now.” I throw in the ‘now’ just to prove he’s not the only one who can be bossy.
My mom says I’m a good nurse because I have an excellent, authoritative voice. It’s served me well over the years, and it certainly came in handy today.
I look him straight in the eye and grasp for a shred of control when he shrugs his shoulders and obediently lowers his head back down onto his pillow. That was too easy.
He closes his eyes and says in his oh-so-irritating way, “Wake me as soon as Elijah is here with my things. I have work to do.”
I roll my eyes and blow out a puff of air disgusted with his arrogance, and he opens one eye to give me a don’t mess with me look.
This guy is going to have to get used to being told what to do. Yeah, right.
When he goes to sleep, I’m not waking him again. I should be careful what I wish for from now on. Marcus Castillo is much nicer when his eyes are closed and his mouth is shut.
Lesson learned.
I lean back in my hard chair and try to get comfortable. As irritating as he is, I can’t leave him. The desperation in his eyes when he asked me to stay hit too close to home for me. I’ve been where he is, but at least I had my family’s support. They took turns staying the night when I was hospitalized. Someone was always there for me night and day. Maybe that’s why it was so hard leaving him all the time?