SEAN: A Mafia Romance (The Callahans Book 3)

by Glenna Sinclair

  “I take this very seriously,” Taylor stated, calming, but only by a fraction. “I’ve paused all work on the pipeline. Rose is my main concern. I’m not offering my help to avoid a lawsuit. I could pay One World off right now by signing a check and I wouldn’t think twice about it. My primary concern is that Rose gets the care she needs and that she recovers without financial constraints in an environment where she feels she can continue to work, if that’s what she most wants to do.” Shifting the direction of his voice, Taylor addressed her tenderly. “It’s up to you, Rose, but I’d like to bring you back to my suite.”

  “I need to think,” she said in a small voice. “Dr. Greenblatt?”

  “Yes?”

  “Whatever paperwork I need to sign to get on the donor list, please bring it in. And how long will it take to get Taylor’s suite set up with the medical equipment I’ll need to be comfortable there?”

  Layla spoke up right away. “You’re not seriously considering staying with the man who did this to you, are you?”

  Choosing her words carefully, and knowing deep down that ultimately there would be no way to hide her affection for Taylor, she said, “He didn’t do this to me, and that’s the honest-to-God truth. I can’t spend the next few weeks or months of my life in a hospital, you know that, Layla. If Taylor says he’s postponed the build, then I believe him.”

  “Seriously, what’s going on between you two?” Carter demanded.

  “What’s going on,” she said immediately, “is that I’m taking him up on his offer, and unless you’ve walked a mile in my shoes, unless you’ve woken up blind in a hospital, you have no right to judge me.”

  She’d spoken with such conviction that her tone went shrill, quivering with emotion that neither Carter nor Layla could argue against.

  Dr. Greenblatt spoke calmly, breaking the lull that had followed her statement. “Mr. Montgomery has been making arrangements for the past few days. Other than stocking up on a few medical supplies, he’s fully prepared to receive you at his home.”

  “The past few days?” she asked. “How long was I unconscious?”

  “Three and a half days,” he said.

  “We’ll get you settled over there,” said Carter, again taking her hand. “And we’ll come by every day, three times a day, as much as you want.”

  Rose angled her nose in the direction she sensed Taylor was standing. “I’m going to be working,” she said. “Carter and Layla and the others will have to be with me whenever I feel like it. You’re not going to have a problem with that?”

  His laugh was soft and breathy, and she sensed he was only pleased by her impenetrable determination. “No, I’d never have a problem with that. I’ll make them keys and notify the front desk that anyone from One World can come and go as they please.”

  “Guilt is a hell of a motivator,” grumbled Carter under his breath, but Rose heard Layla thwack his shoulder.

  “I’d rather him help out of guilt,” she countered in her fiery tone, “than have him fight us or have us arrested. He wants to help Rose, and that’s all that matters.”

  “It is,” said Dr. Greenblatt. “I’ll have our administrator bring the paperwork, Rose, and we’ll get you discharged within the hour.”

  Taylor squeezed her hand then her shoulder. “I’ll be back with a wheelchair.”

  “Okay,” she whispered, feeling the hospital gown around her chest.

  Perhaps sensing her worry, Layla said, “I’ll help you dress.”

  Again, tears stung her eyes, though the gauze wrapping her head quickly absorbed them. She was touched by their care, but even more so than that, she was daunted at the thought of all she’d have to learn to do without sight—dressing, tying her shoes, brushing her teeth, functioning in a dark world. How would she type a report or send an e-mail? She’d find a way, but it would be far from easy.

  She heard her doctor pad out and sensed Taylor following behind him. Carter mentioned he’d be right outside and told Layla to let him know when he could return. After shutting the door behind him, Layla sat beside Rose on her bed and placed her warm palm on Rose’s leg over the bedsheet.

  “I’m still in shock,” she said, her tone cracking. “It’s all surreal. It’s like I can’t believe this isn’t a dream.”

  Rose held her chin high, envisioning Layla’s face. “We don’t stop. We won’t let up. We have Madison’s extensive report, correct?”

  Layla took a moment to sober her quivering tone. “Yes, we do.”

  “Okay, let’s get Harold on this right away,” she instructed, referring to One World’s attorney. “I’m living evidence of the hazards of those chemicals, and no one can deny this accident happened at the pipeline. We can use Madison’s report in tandem with the Davey Construction permits on file with the various cities they’ve built Starlight pipelines in, and with those critical documents we can work towards shutting down all the pipelines they’ve built across the country.”

  “Certainly,” she said with determination.

  “If I can focus on this,” she went on, “I might have a prayer of holding myself together.”

  Feeling for the edge of the bed and shifting her legs, Rose slid her feet to the tiles, as Layla got to her feet and padded across the room.

  “If you could narrate what you’re doing,” she said. “It would help me.”

  “Of course,” said Layla, taking pause.

  “Is that silly?”

  After a moment of Rose picturing Layla gaping at her, her friend said, “Not at all. Okay, I’m getting a pair of jeans and a sweater off the chair in the corner of the room. These are mine, by the way. Your clothes become saturated in the chemical.”

  Rose reached behind her back and pulled the string on her hospital gown, helping it to fall to the floor, as Layla approached with the jeans, setting the sweater on the bed.

  “Here are your jeans, can you feel for them and get your leg through?”

  “I think so,” she said, surprised to find herself smiling. “In a weird way this reminds me of being a kid. When I was little I used to close my eyes and bumble around my parents’ house pretending to be blind.”

  “I feel like I used to do that, as well,” said Layla through a breathy laugh. “Messes with your balance a bit. Doesn’t it?”

  “Yeah, I’m wobbly.”

  Despite the challenge, Rose pulled her jeans on and made slow work of buttoning them before Layla handed her the sweater, helping her to pull it over her head. Once she got dressed and Layla assisted her into each sneaker, there came a knock on the door.

  “That’s Carter,” she said, guiding Rose’s hand to the edge of the bed before letting him in. “And Taylor with the wheelchair,” she added. “Guys, try to narrate what you’re doing. It helps her.”

  “I’ve got the wheelchair here,” said Taylor, rolling and angling it beside her.

  Rose felt for its armrest then eased into it, as Carter placed a pen in her hand and a clipboard in the other. “This is the paperwork,” he explained. “Put the pen right here.”

  Taking her hand, Carter pressed the pen tip against the paperwork.

  “Right here?” Carter said nothing, and she imagined him nodding. “Use your words, Carter, I can’t see a damn thing.”

  “Right, sorry. Yes, sign there.”

  She did and then he flipped the page. “And here.”

  After a few more signatures, he stepped away and Rose heard an administrator thank him and hurry out of the room.

  “Okay,” said Taylor. “We’re going to head down the corridor through the lobby and out to my SUV.”

  “You didn’t bring the limo?” she teased, then immediately stiffened in the wheelchair when she let it slip that she’d been inside his limousine before.

  “I rigged my SUV with a wheelchair lift to make life easier,” he said.

  “God, I’m a total invalid,” she complained with an edge of humor, as he rolled her through the hospital, Carter and Layla trailing behind by a few feet.<
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  “I’ve filled all of your prescriptions,” he went on. “If you feel any pain, let me know and we’ll knock it out.”

  All things considered, she didn’t feel in pain whatsoever, and yet had become aware that her left arm and shoulder were also wrapped in thick layers of gauze. Without her sight, it was hard to place precisely how foggy she was, but now that she was rolling along, she sensed she might, in fact, be far more out of it than she realized.

  “What am I on right now?” she asked, tilting her head back towards him.

  “Oxy, Vicodin, the works,” he said. “You were burned badly, so we got you on a strong cocktail that was mainlining right to your vein.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Popping a pill will take longer to alleviate the sting, so as soon as you feel even slightly uncomfortable, you’ve got to take the medication.”

  Rose grumbled. Her mental clarity was of the utmost importance, and she rarely took medicine of any kind, even over-the-counter painkillers.

  As soon as she felt the warm summer sun on her face and smelled a florally breeze in the air, which told her she was now outside, she asked, “How bad will it be if I don’t take anything?”

  “Rose,” said Carter, “you don’t want to do that to yourself.”

  She didn’t argue, but in the back of her mind she knew she could handle it. Pain was sobering. It had the power to focus her, and she’d rather be sharply focused and suffering than in a haze of confusion.

  She heard Taylor pop the passenger’s side door open, as he said, “Just getting the ramp down.”

  “Was this necessary?” she asked. “I mean, I can walk.”

  “Technically, you can,” he said, “but you’re pretty drugged up, so until you’re on the other side of taking these meds it’s best if you stay in the wheelchair.”

  As Taylor rolled her up the ramp then got her wheelchair strapped inside the SUV, Carter and Layla set her belongings in the backseat and shut the door.

  “We’ll be right behind you,” said Carter.

  “Actually,” said Rose, “I might need an hour or so. I’d like to get settled and maybe nap. Could you come by after, and we’ll go over the reports before we e-mail them to Harold?”

  “Sure,” said Layla. “Whatever you want. You can give us a call?”

  “I’ll do that,” she said before giving Layla’s hand a squeeze as soon as she felt her friend reach for her. “See you later,” she added, then reconsidered. “I mean...oh God, what do I mean?”

  “We’ll see you later, Rose,” said Layla through a smile before shutting the door.

  As soon as Taylor climbed behind the wheel, he started the engine, but she didn’t feel the SUV lurch forward.

  In a whisper, he said, “I’m just watching them walk to their Jeep in the parking lot because I want to kiss you before we head out, and I’d rather they not catch us.” After a moment he added, “That is, if you don’t mind me kissing you.”

  Smirking, she said in a low tone, “I don’t mind.”

  Sensing him nearing her, it felt as though every cell in her body was poised in anticipation of feeling his lips meet hers, and when he did, his smooth mouth pressing firmly, warm and passionate, she melted, breathing in deeply his scent and drifting into his kiss that seemed to convey a world of care.

  Soon his hands held her face, though gently, helping her tilt her head to deepen the kiss, as his tongue delicately probed the velvety curves of her mouth. When he slipped back, she sensed him studying her.

  “I can’t tell you how sorry I am this happened to you,” he said in a tone so quiet it was barely audible. “I’m going to do everything within my power to make this right.”

  “Will it ever be right?” she asked, not to challenge him, but to gain a sense of his highest belief. If he truly believed he could make this right, then she would trust him, but who could be so optimistic when tragedy had struck so severely?

  “I’ll find a way,” he said.

  Finally, Taylor put the SUV in gear and pulled away from the curb, starting off on the long drive from Bellevue Mercy to the Escala in downtown Seattle.

  The hum of tires over asphalt and the gentle rocking of the highway lulled Rose into a sleepy state.

  “Mmm, I’m nodding off,” she murmured.

  “That’s okay,” he said softly. “I’ll wake you when we get there.”

  And he did.

  It was the pop of the passenger’s side door opening that lifted her from a deep sleep.

  “We’re home,” he said, pressing the button for the electronic ramp to edge out. “We’ll get you inside, and then you might want to sleep for a bit before you call your people over.”

  Rose braced the armrests of her wheelchair as Taylor rolled her down the ramp. His hand rested on her shoulder as he ascended the ramp into the SUV and tossed his keys to the valet, who quickly climbed in and drove off.

  As he rolled her over the red carpet and into the air-conditioned lobby of the Escala, Rose noticed that because she’d been stripped of the ability to see, her other senses were kicking into high gear. The specific scent of the lobby, the chilled marble floors slick with lemon-fresh cleaner, struck her first, then the particular tinge of AC mingling with the distinct scent of lilacs filled her nose. The shape of Taylor’s hand, which remained on her shoulder as he rolled her to the elevator banks, held new meaning. She now understood his precise dimensions—the length of his fingers, the width of his palm. And when the elevator arrived with a ding, the sound was sharp and hit her ears in a way she’d never noticed for all her years of having perfect eyesight.

  After he rolled her inside, turned her around, and the doors whooshed closed, the way in which the air pressure changed from that one simple action was so apparent that it made her feel strangely alive, as did rising swiftly to the fiftieth floor.

  It occurred to her as he rolled her down the long carpeted corridor towards his suite that she would finally set foot in his bedroom, maybe even lie down on his four-poster bed, but without sight, what would the experience hold?

  “I didn’t realize you had a guest room,” she remarked, though it was only a guess.

  “There are many rooms in my suite,” he offered, “but I thought you’d be most comfortable in my room.”

  “You installed a hospital bed in your room?”

  “I did,” he said, keying into the suite then pushing her through. “But you have the option. Unless your vitals dip for the worst, I see no reason why you can’t sleep in my bed. That is, if you like.”

  “That might be nice,” she said through a smirk.

  “I’m glad you’re smiling.”

  As soon as he slowed her wheelchair and Rose felt the afternoon sun on her face, reminding her where the bay windows were, she stood and took a few cautious steps towards it. Taylor neared her and took her right hand as her left fingertips pressed against the warm glass.

  “Tell me about the view,” she said, already imagining the Seattle bay, the skyline of buildings before it, and Bellevue in the far distance.

  “The sun is bouncing off the buildings, off the windows and steel. The Space Needle is to the left, piercing the azure blue sky. And there are a number of popcorn clouds floating slowly by. The bay is calm. The water looks like glass, but there are a few sailboats cutting north around the bend.”

  Suddenly, Rose felt overcome with emotion. “Will I ever see it again?”

  She sensed him tensing beside her, and it was enough of an answer that she didn’t press him.

  “One day at a time,” he reminded her. Then Taylor leaned in until she could feel his warm lips brush her hair, her ear beneath. “Keeping you relaxed and happy is the key to a speedy recovery.”

  “Is that right?” she asked coyly.

  “As a medical professional, I can tell you for a fact that it is.”

  She caught an edge of flirtation in his tone that sent a flutter of arousal through her, though she couldn’t be sure the sensation wasn’t heightene
d thanks to the many opiates surging through her veins. She was starting to feel loopy.

  “How about that nap?” he whispered.

  “Why do I get the feeling I won’t be doing much sleeping?”

  “I’ll be good,” he said in a cooler tone. “I’ll let you rest, if that’s what you need.”

  “As my doctor, what do you think I need?” she asked in a smoky voice that surprised her. Who would’ve thought the major upheaval that was befalling her could be so easily overlooked when in the presence of a man who never failed to turn her on?

  “Well, no one can argue with rest,” he said, brushing his warm hand through her hair to expose the right side of her neck that went unmarred throughout the ordeal. “But I think a gentle massage could help you sleep better.”

  “Really?”

  “I can keep my touch very light and relaxing. Stimulating your circulation is very important, and until you’re well enough to exercise, we’ll have to be creative about how we get your heart rate up, get you breathing heavily, get the blood flowing. Come here.”

  He guided her to the bed where he angled her to face him and grazed his fingertips up her arms until he settled a tender hold around the nape of her neck. When his lips met hers, she reached for his waist, gripping the firm wall of his abdomen and kissing him deeply.

  “I know one way to get your blood circulating, but I might need to remove your clothing,” he whispered.

  The very notion sent a hot wave rolling through her, and she smiled, but then an edge of apprehension caused her stomach to clench.

  “Don’t I look awful?” she asked, feeling her face, the bandage, and then her head where her hair had been cut by the burn unit to save her scalp.

  “Rose,” he whispered, pecking her in between each word. “You’re beautiful. I’m hard for you.” He took her hand and placed it over the bulge beneath his slacks, breathing his final statement, “I want to fuck you. Let me make you feel good. Let me help you forget all this shit you’re going through, at least for a little while.”

  “I can’t believe I still turn you on,” she said in disbelief.