by Jill Sanders
“Oh no! Cucciola mia, you are no burden to me. We don’t need her.” His aunt started walking towards his bed and stopped when his mother turned her head abruptly and glared at her. “Well, we don’t.”
“Florentina, I’ve hired Miss Rossi because she is a qualified nurse who has many years’ experience with helping others in these circumstances. She is a practiced physical therapist.” She turned on Dante now. “Which you need. So, I don’t want to hear another word about her leaving this house until I say she leaves. Are we clear?” She looked at him until he nodded his agreement. Then she turned on his aunt. “This goes for you, too. Damiano agrees with me that Miss Rossi is needed and I won’t have you underfoot. You need your rest; let her take care of Dante for now.” His aunt just looked at his mother. His mother took the silence as her agreement and walked out.
Chapter Three
Airlea sat down with Dante’s medical file, which Kathleen had given her, in the large room which was going to be hers. Her room had a large, queen-sized four-poster bed. She felt like the pauper in one of the old children’s stories her mother used to read her.
The room was three times the size of her entire apartment. Its light mocha-colored walls made her feel welcomed. The rich cream bedspread felt soft and comfortable under her fingers. Her two bags had been sitting at the end of the bed when she’d walked in. Looking around, she wondered what she was doing here. How had she let her mother maneuver her into taking this job?
After meeting Dante Cardone, she questioned if she was going to last very long here. He might be a gorgeous package on the outside, but inside he was a spoiled brat. She’d treated him like she had all children that were having a tantrum. She was very lucky her mouth hadn’t gotten her fired. Instead, Mrs. Cardone had praised how she had handled her son.
“Dante needs a firm hand. He’s in a lot of pain and I know you can help him shake off this foul mood,” Kathleen had told her.
What gave her the opinion Airlea was qualified to handle a twenty-something-year-old man-boy? She’d been honest and upfront with his mother: she was used to dealing with children, not men.
She knew that Dante’s aunt was going to be a problem. She just knew it. After meeting the older woman, she could tell it was going to be difficult to control his recovery. She knew she had to get the upper hand with the woman right off.
Standing up, she walked over and unzipped her bag, taking out her black nurse scrubs. She started to change while thinking of her next move with Dante.
She’d looked over his medical file and knew the extent of his injuries. This gave her a good idea what he could handle and what he couldn’t. Now she just needed him to trust that she knew what he needed. And she knew he needed a shower first. But how would she manage such a feat? With children it had been so much easier. Sure, she’d been trained to handle every situation, but she’d chosen pediatric physical therapy for a reason. She enjoyed dealing with children more than full-grown adults.
Finally dressed, she looked at herself in the large mirror on the wide chest of drawers. Smoothing her dark hair straight, she moistened her lips and held her head up as she went to complete a task that neither she nor Dante wanted to do.
When she walked in, he was sitting on the bed, his arms crossed over his bare chest. He glared at her.
“I know why you’re here, and you can just forget it. You are not bathing me.” He spoke in English. She knew that his mother wished for everyone to speak English while she was around, so she tried to accommodate her.
“Now Mr. Cardone, you don’t—”
“Don’t call me that,” he interrupted.
Her eyebrows shot up and she gave him a questioning look. “Just what should I call you?”
“Dante would be fine.” He kept his eyes glued to her face.
“Fine.” She smiled, trying to show him that she, too, could be reasonable. “Now, Dante, you don’t—”
“What are you wearing?” he interrupted her again.
She stopped and looked down at herself. “I’m wearing my physical therapist scrubs. Now, if you don’t—”
“Why?” again he interrupted her.
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes on a wave of impatience and had a quick thought that children were easier to deal with than full-grown, sexy men. “Why what?”
“Why are you dressed like that?”
“I have no intention of getting my own clothes wet, and I get to keep them free of fluids such as blood, puss, vomit, and whatever else comes with my job. These are much easier to clean. Now, if you don’t mind,” she paused, waiting to see if he would interrupt her again. “With a little help, we can get you into the shower.” She walked into the adjoining bathroom to assess how she would accomplish the task.
To her delight and relief, the bathroom was perfect for the task. Its marble floors would be slippery if they became wet, but that was the only problem she could see. The large glass shower would be easy to help him in to, and once there, there was a large bench along the stone wall of the shower for him to sit on. The shower head could easily be handed to him and he could shower himself. She walked over and set the bottle of shampoo and soap on the lower shelf so he could easily reach them. Then she hung several large towels on the towel rack, within reach.
Opening the door wide, she grabbed his robe which she had found on the back of the bathroom door. Carrying it back into the room, she smiled down at him.
“Shall we get you into the shower?” He took the robe and twirled his finger in a circle. She turned around, putting her back to him while he donned the robe.
“I don’t need your help. I’m only going along with this for my mother’s and aunt’s sakes.”
“I understand.” She kept the smile to herself, since her back was still to him. She heard him struggling to get the robe around his hurt shoulder.
“I’m done,” he said. When she turned around, she noticed that he had put his right arm through the sleeve, but his left one hung free, since his shoulder’s movement was limited. He’d tied the robe as tight as he could and he’d moved his legs to the edge of the bed.
“How are you going to help me?”
“Well, if you’d give me your hand, I can help you stand and you can use me to lean on as you walk.” She held out her hand.
“What? That’s your great, medically educated plan?” He looked shocked. “I haven’t stood up in almost two weeks, I have several pins in my leg, and you expect me to just stand up and walk into the restroom with only the help of a weak, hundred-pound woman?”
“I’m not weak.” She pulled him up until he stood beside her. He was a lot taller than she’d imagined, and bigger. He towered over her now and she realized she just might be in trouble. Straightening her shoulders, she wrapped her arm around his waist and realized it was narrower than his chest, a lot narrower. She wrapped both her hands around him, trying to steady him as he teetered on his good leg.
“Hold still. Steady!” She tried to steady him, then they were both tumbling down, landing softly on the large bed. She was sprawled on top of him, her hands now trapped underneath him as his arms came around her, holding her down to him.
“Well, that worked out perfectly,” he said sarcastically and looked up at her. She could feel her face heat.
“Will you move so I can get my hands back?” She tried to push him away while pulling her arms free from underneath him. He didn’t move; instead, he locked his hands behind her back, and pulled her closer.
“Mmm, I don’t think so. I like it right where I’m at.”
She stopped wiggling long enough to look at him. “You did that on purpose!” When he just smiled, she looked into his face and could almost see red. “Mr. Cardone, you may not be aware, but you stink, and this bed and its sheets stink. And there is no doubt in my mind that it’s been over a week since the last time someone tried to clean you or them. So, if you would kindly release me before I’m forced to lose my lunch all over you, we can try to remedy the sten
ch in this stale room.”
He laughed, actually laughed at her. But then he rolled to his right and then his left, releasing her arms from underneath him.
Standing up, she straightened her shirt and hair, then looked back down at him. “Now, shall we try this again?”
After she had him settled on the shower seat still wearing his robe, she exited the room, knowing he could handle everything from there. She had warned him about getting his upper leg and shoulder too wet, but knew it didn’t really matter since she needed to change the bandages anyway after he showered.
She spent the next twenty minutes removing and replacing his sheets and bedding. She found several sets of sheets in a large walk-in hall closet that Kathleen had shown her during her short tour. She met Teresa, one of the workers that Kathleen had mentioned. Teresa was one of the two maids who worked at the house along with Rosa, who worked in the kitchen. Rosa was a frail, older looking woman who seemed friendly enough. She had been wearing an oversized apron and was busy cooking when Airlea had met her. Kathleen had said there were a dozen or so workers who worked outside with Damiano.
She had a short conversation with the Teresa who was very young and looked like she’d just graduated from school. She had short, dark hair and very thick glasses, which gave her a stylish bookworm look. Airlea instantly liked the girl.
She took Dante’s pillows out on the balcony and banged them together, trying to freshen them up a bit. Then she placed the new pillow cases on them and straightened his room, taking her time as she dusted his tables and nightstands off. There had been a fine layer of dust on everything, probably dirt from the fields coming in through the open doors and settling on everything.
She knocked on the bathroom door when she heard the water shut off. She opened the door a crack. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes, I’m done.”
She walked in and saw him standing in the shower, holding himself up against the wall, a towel tied loosely around his waist. She’d seen him naked earlier, but only from the back. Now she looked at his chest and almost lost her breath. There was a little bruising left over from his accident, but for the most part he looked healthy and whole. His chest was impressive. His dark skin stretched over the tight muscles and she could see his nipples as water dripped down him. His black hair was wet and he’d run his fingers through it, pushing it off his face. He hadn’t shaved, and the dark stubble made him look pretty damn sexy. Water dripped down his arms and legs and she had a strong urge to walk over and lick it all off of him.
Shaking her head clear, she set a pair of his slippers in front of him. “These will help with traction. We don’t want you slipping and falling.”
“You forgot my razor. I still need a shave.”
“I’ll bring everything to you in a while. It’s almost time for dinner and time for your medicine.”
It was complete torture when he leaned his wet, toned body against hers as she walked him back to the room. How could a man feel so good against her skin?
She’d experienced plenty of men before, and had just gotten out of a six-month relationship with Angelo. You never truly knew a person until you had to deal with them twenty-four-seven. Angelo had turned from a charming prince into a control freak who had to know her every move.
She pulled the bed covers back farther, allowing Dante to sit on the edge. “I’ve laid out some clothes that I think we can manage to put on without damaging your shoulder and leg.” She reached for the sweat shorts and a wide necked
t-shirt.
“I can dress myself,” he barked.
“I know you can, but I need to get a look at your incisions and rods. I need to make sure everything looks clean.” She bent over and grabbed the new gauze and medical tape. “If you’ll sit back…” she motioned for him to lean against the headboard.
“I can change my own—”
“Mr. Cardone, if you did everything yourself, what would I do? Now, sit back. and please let me do my job.”
He looked at her and she could see his wheels turning. Finally, he caved and leaned back slightly. She sat on the bed next to him and started checking and cleaning his wounds.
When she was done with his shoulder, she started to pull the towel aside to work on his leg. He flinched and held the towel tight against him. She smiled.
“I think it’s a little late for modesty, don’t you?”
“You may think this is funny, but I don’t,” he growled out.
“Fine, how about we get you into the shorts first, then I can have a look at your leg.”
She stood and held the sweat shorts by his feet. He moved his right foot into them easily, but had a harder time lifting his left leg into the hole. She bent down and held his leg up and guided it into the opening. “We’ll have to work on your mobility soon.” She started to pull the shorts up, but he swatted her hands aside and quickly pulled them up under the large towel and over the metal bar holding the pins. He tossed the towel aside and it landed on the floor in a wet heap. She walked over and picked it up, shaking her head.
“You would think that you’d take better care with this rug. Did you know that it’s most likely a late 1800’s antique Persian Kermanshah Rug? It’s probably worth more than I made last year.” She folded the towel and walked into the restroom.
Coming back into the room, she watched as he tried to pull his leg up onto the bed. She walked over and took it in her hands, setting it softly on the bed and placing two pillows under his knee to keep it elevated.
“Here, let me have a look at your leg now.” Since he was sitting on the edge of the bed closest to the bathroom, she had to actually crawl across the wide bed to get to his left leg. He leaned his head against the headboard and closed his eyes. His arms were crossed over his bare chest, since she’d forgotten to help him put on his shirt.
Taking her time, she moved his shorts up until she could remove the large, wet bandage that covered his leg. The wound was nasty looking. She could see where they’d made a small incision just above his knee, and there were four pins sticking out of his flesh which were attached to a small, metal bar.
“Is this where they had the drain?” she asked, touching the staples lightly with her fingers.
He opened his eyes and looked at her, then nodded and closed them again.
She’d forgotten her gauze on the night stand and leaned over him to reach for it. His eyes flew open quickly. She was less than an inch from his face and he stared at her intently.
“I’m sorry, did I hurt you?” She sat back up.
He shook his head no.
She finished cleaning and dressing the wound, wrapping the gauze tightly around his knee and thigh and making sure to cover the lower incisions where they had inserted a drain for all the fluids that built up after surgery.
“I assume you will have this bar on for around five months?”
He nodded his head again and she could swear he was trying to breathe through the pain.
She got up and stood in front of his bed, looking at him. He still had his eyes closed and his head was leaning back against the soft headboard.
“You must be exhausted. It will take a while for your strength to come back. We’ll start on the therapy tomorrow. I’ll bring up your dinner shortly.” She turned and walked out of the room, knowing he watched her hips sway as she walked out.
When she got to her room, she saw that all the dresser drawers were open, some of her clothes were on the floor, and her laptop was open. She knew that whoever had been in her room wouldn’t have gotten through her password. Looking around, she didn’t see that anything was missing and she began to pick everything up and put it all away. She wondered if one of the young maids had been looking for something to steal. She felt bad because she liked them and decided not to tell Kathleen since nothing was missing.
Florentina also watched her walk out of his room, and she didn’t like that the girl was here. Oh, she had promised her brother that she wouldn’t raise a fuss, bu
t seeing the attraction between the pair, she knew it was only a matter of time before Dante started acting like himself again and he tended to fall for the prettiest girl in the room. She’d already broken up several of his relationships in the past, this one would be no different. After all, she knew how to scare young women off.
Oh, she didn’t mind him flirting with the help; after all, he was a man. What she didn’t like was how the young woman had looked at him in return. She would just have to keep a close eye on them and make sure the girl didn’t get the wrong idea into her head. She was the help around here, and nothing more.
Chapter Four
Dante felt like he’d just run a hundred miles, and he didn’t think it had anything to do with exerting himself in the shower. His damn medicine was playing havoc with his system. If he wasn’t bent over in pain, he was drowned in a haze.
