Raymond asks Darlene a few questions, which she manages to answer weakly. He gives her some medicine and leaves the bottle on the nightstand with instructions to administer two pills every four hours until her temperature has returned to normal.
I walk the doc out into the hallway so we can talk freely without disturbing Darlene. He has a dozen questions he wants to ask, probably starting with why I’m letting my sick housekeeper rest in my bed, but he’s been around long enough to know when to keep his mouth shut.
“She’ll be okay. The most important thing is to keep her hydrated, which unfortunately means waking her up to drink lots of water when you give her the pills. Rest, water, medicine, repeat. I expect her to be back to normal within forty-eight hours.”
“What caused it?” I ask, my voice filled with irrational anger. I hate that my angel has been suffering while I was away.
“Any number of reasons. I ruled out infection during my exam, and from what she told me, I don’t think she has strep throat or anything requiring other medications. People just get sick sometimes,” he shrugs. “Add in any stress, lack of sleep, or dehydration, and these things can spin out of control quickly.”
I growl and clench my fists. I know these things happen, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to annihilate every single germ that found its way into her body and made her sick. And what if she’s stressed? Or tired? I had no idea, but I’ll make it a point from now on to make sure she never feels this way again.
Raymond gives me a knowing look as his lips spread into a small smile. I glare at him, but he just chuckles and shakes his head. It’s only out of respect for the old man and the work he’s done for the family that I don’t deck him in the teeth.
“She’ll be just fine,” he reassures me, clapping a hand on my shoulder.
I give him a tight nod before dismissing him. Raymond only gets a few feet away before I call his name again. “Thanks, doc,” I tell him. His bushy, white eyebrows lift up in surprise, but then he gives me a broad smile.
“Take good care of her,” he says, turning around and heading back down the hallway.
“Always,” I say to myself.
Back in my room, I stand at the foot of the bed and watch my angel sleep for long minutes, not even caring how much of a creeper that makes me. When her brow furrows and she whimpers softly, I crawl into bed beside her and pull her into my arms.
Darlene sighs and relaxes at my touch. I stroke her cheek, her neck, her shoulder, and back up again. “You’re mine,” I whisper into her ear. “I’m keeping you.” I know she’s asleep and can’t hear me, but I hope my words filter into her subconscious. I’ve never meant anything more in my life.
Chapter 8
Darlene
I wake up in a strange bed for the second time in two weeks. I haven’t opened my eyes yet, seeing as they seem to be glued shut with a bunch of gunk, but these sheets are silk, as opposed to the ridiculously high thread count cotton sheets in my room. I also get a hint of a comforting smell, though I can’t quite place it.
Scenes from last night come back in pieces the more I wake up. I hadn’t been feeling well for a few days, but things escalated when I woke up late last night burning hot and then freezing cold. Since I wasn’t getting any sleep, I decided to go down to the main kitchen and see if I could find any tea.
My memory gets fuzzy from there. I was standing. The mug shattered. Darkness. Strong arms. Warm chest. Cold water. Crying in the shower. Matteo.
Matteo.
Oh my God, I cried and snotted all over Matteo as he held me in the shower. Holy crap, he must be strong. Part of me wishes I were more coherent to enjoy that, but the majority of me is glad I can’t recall all of the embarrassing things I must have said and did.
I get another whiff of that familiar, calming scent.
My eyes pop open. He's here with me. The silk sheets, the smell of cedarwood and spice, and warmth surrounding me on all sides. I'm in Matteo's bed.
I turn slightly, only to realize I’m not just in Matteo’s bed, I’m in his arms. He’s spooning around me with an arm slung over my hips to keep me close.
Holy. Crap. Did he stay here with me all night?
I glance down my body, suddenly remembering that I had on a rather revealing nightgown last night. I obviously never intended to show it to anyone, and Matteo is the one who had it put in my closet, but still. Only I’m not wearing the pretty nightgown. I’m wearing a pair of boxers and a t-shirt that is too big for me.
Oh my God. Oh my God.
Did he see me naked? Am I ashamed of that or turned on? What does this mean? Why is he still here? Where has he been for the last week?
My heart beats erratically in my chest and my breathing turns shallow. It's all too much. There are so many questions, not only about what happened last night, but about the things he's making me feel. Yeah, on a physical level, Matteo can play my body like a freaking instrument, but my heart? I don't want him playing with that.
I suddenly feel incredibly vulnerable. More vulnerable than when Matteo found me in the library with just my robe on. More vulnerable than when he caught me in the hallway and went down on me. Somehow, I feel even more vulnerable than when I was kidnapped. Well, maybe that’s not true. It’s a different kind of vulnerability, though. More profound.
I start to wiggle my way out of his arms so I can go hide under the covers of my own bed, but he tightens his hold on my hip. Matteo’s thumb slips just underneath the hem of the shirt I’m wearing, and he starts rubbing gentle circles on my bare skin with his thumb. His touch, much like his cedarwood and spice scent, grounds me and eases some of my anxiety.
“Shh, it’s okay, tesoro,” he mumbles softly before his light snoring continues. The way he said it makes me think this isn’t the first time I woke up restless throughout the night.
Slowly, I turn around in his arms so we’re face to face. Even in his sleep, Matteo looks tense and serious. I let my eyes wander over his jagged, dark features, taking in his strong jaw, soft, firm lips, and angled nose. I can tell it’s been broken a few times, but the imperfections only add to his whole rough, sexy, untouchable vibe.
Without thinking about it, I reach out and rub my thumb over the worry lines etched in between his brow. Matteo leans into my touch, which brings tears to my eyes. He looks vulnerable right now, too. Just the fact that he’s sleeping here beside me has to mean something. You’re never more vulnerable than when you’re asleep. He trusted me enough to sleep next to me all night. I can’t quite describe what that does to me.
Then again, maybe he just figured I wouldn’t be much of a threat, considering I fainted in his arms and all, but still. Matteo is not a man who takes chances like that.
I continue to brush my fingertips over his brow, and then I slide them down his temple and cheek, stopping to feel the coarse hair of his neatly kept beard. I get the sudden image of him going down on me the last time I saw him. It was so unexpected, so overwhelming, so...hot. I’ve always been painfully aware of every single one of my curves, which made me too self-conscious to want to do anything physical with anyone, but Matteo made me feel so beautiful. So wanted. So incredibly sexy. Me. Sexy. Who would have thought?
Matteo tilts his head slightly and presses a kiss onto the palm of my hand. I pull my hand away, chastising myself for practically groping his face.