by Ann, Bry
Tears spring to my eyes, but I wipe them.
“I was, um…” My fingers wring together in my lap. I stare at them, unable to meet his eyes. “I was as-assaulted recently. Then kidnapped. I’ve tried to be here. I’ve tried to separate my job from my personal life…”
I wipe my tears away and meet his eyes.
“But I can’t. I work really hard here and need to request a few things.”
To my surprise, Dr. Williams looks livid.
“Who hurt you, Isla?” he growls.
“It’s really irrelevant at this point, honestly. They’ve been… dealt with. I just can’t pretend I’m okay anymore. Not just with the assault, sir. The hours. I love it here, but I’m tired! I have no life. I’m in my 20s and the idea of going out on a Friday night is preposterous. Unheard of.”
This is not where I intended to go with this conversation, but now the words are spilling out and I can’t stop them.
“I’ve wanted to be a doctor since I was a little girl, but I’m gonna die alone at this rate! No one is gonna wanna be around someone who can never be there. And I was too freaking scared to even consider time off after I was beaten. I came into work bruised, beaten, with a knife wound down my abdomen because there was no one to take my place on a busy Saturday. That’s not fair to me.”
Much to my horror, tears stream down my face. This is an issue long in the making.
“I got calls when I took off a couple days after my kidnapping, so I said fuck it and came in. I need another doctor here for weekends. I need help. I only want to work a normal 35-40 hour work week or I’m going elsewhere. And I need three weeks off. I need to heal. I’m tired, I’m sore, and I see my kidnappers around every corner. I’m a good doctor, but working here will ruin that before I hit thirty.”
“Whooo…” He lets out a deep breath. “Well, that’s a lot, Dr. Grace. Why haven’t you come to me sooner? I’m not here a lot, but I’ve always had an open door policy, especially for you.”
I don’t know what that means, so I’ll ignore it.
“Yes, about office-related issues, not personal problems.”
“I disagree. Maybe you put that expectation on yourself and projected it on me. If you came to me about this sooner, I would have heard you out.”
“Really? Without the assault and kidnapping to back it up?” I raise my eyebrows.
“I would have at least heard you out.”
“That doesn’t do me any good.”
“I can give you two weeks off and a guarantee of no more than fifty hours a week.”“Then this is my two weeks’ notice.”
I push to stand. I don’t get far before Dr. Williams’ hand covers mine.
“Wait, Isla.”
“Don’t touch me, please.” I swallow the rising panic.
“I’m sorry.” He pulls away quickly. “Please have a seat.”
“I need my wishes heard on this, Dr. Williams. I can prove my worth to this office.”
“You don’t have to do that. Of the fifteen offices I own, large and small, you are by far the most promising doctor I have, like I mentioned earlier.”
Okay, so…?
“Three weeks is a long time for you to be gone.”
“I need it.” My voice is a whisper. “This isn’t a pride thing or a laziness thing, it’s an I-need-to-seek-some-help thing.”
Dr. Williams stands and comes over to me. He studies my face and messy hair.
“Alright, you have three weeks to the day. Now onto the hours.”
“Yes, I need a normal work week.”
He smiles a little sadly. “You met someone.”
“Uh… no… yes… I… well, that’s personal, but yes, sir. I am trying to find a life after what happened.”
His hand reaches out and brushes a strand of my sweaty hair back.
I freeze.
“Such a shame. I was too busy to see what was right in front of me.”
He moves his hand and goes back to his desk.
“I’ll work it out. I promise you three weeks and no more than forty hours. Now go home.”
He glances up at me.
“Good luck, Isla.”
“Dr. Williams, I…”
He gives me a sad smile.
“You’re dismissed, Dr. Grace.”
“Right,” I nod. “Of course. Um… have a great week, sir. Thank you.”
I run out of the room, breathing heavy. I got my way. I got my way, and… Dr. Williams likes me?!
What?!
The sad thing is he was so busy working, he didn’t notice until it was too late.
And I almost made that same mistake.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Seven
“How was your time with Dr. Petti, Nia?” Isla asks as she flips the steaks on the stove. I had dinner laid out but not cooked since I didn’t want it to get cold. She walked in after working thirteen motherfucking hours, took the spatula from my hand, and told me to shoo. I naturally fought with her, but I’ve come to find that she’s demanding when she’s made up her mind on something.
I can’t believe I have a woman in my kitchen cooking me dinner.
She changed for me. Isla’s not in scrubs. She’s in a small, yellow halter top dress with red flats and her hair is down, draped over her shoulder like a queen. Nia’s looking at her like she’s the most beautiful woman in the entire world and I’m drooling thinking about her in my bed the other day. Wanting her back there.
Nia grumbles and Isla laughs.
“Did she push you really hard?”
“Yes.”
“Dr. Petti is known for really helping people, Nia. Anything that works is a little hard, but worth it.”
Nia waddles over to the kitchen and starts tracing on Isla’s hand. Isla’s brows are furrowed as she focuses on what Nia’s trying to say.
Then the tracing stops and Isla drops her spatula on the counter top with a clang.
“Nia,” Isla whispers, ducking down with tears in her eyes.
I immediately push to stand and go over. What’s wrong? What did Nia say? Is this level of worry normal? Fatherhood is gonna kill me far before being in the mafia ever does.
“Do you trust me, Nia?”
“Yes,” Nia whispers.
“I trust Dr. Petti to help you. Look at your dad for a moment.”
I freeze. What does she want me to do?
“No, Nia, really look at him. Up and down.”
Nia listens, but it’s brief. Her eyes drop up, down, and then back to Isla.
Uh, do I step in? Am I supposed to be doing something?
“How much does he love you?”
So much.
“Lots.”
“Right. Is he not the biggest, strongest man in the world?”
Ha…
“Yes,” Nia whimpers with wide eyes.
“So, you know that no one will ever hurt you again. Not your mom or your old dad or the mean people on the street.”
Isla grabs Nia’s hands firmly.
“No matter what you talk about or tell Dr. Petti, no one will ever hurt you again. I promise.”
DAMN. FUCKING. RIGHT. Not on my watch. Not ever.
Nia dives into Isla’s chest and Isla cradles her, rocking her gently back and forth.
“You’re such a strong princess,” she coos, rocking her on her knee. She glances up at me quickly and cocks her head to the steaks. I nod and keep an eye on them for her.
“Guess what?” Isla chirps in that same cheery voice I heard when we had a strictly doctor/patient relationship.
“I’m gonna see a doctor just like Dr. Petti, but for adults like me.”
“Yes?” Nia looks at her with so much admiration it knocks the wind out of me.
“Yep!” Isla pokes Nia’s nose and puts some distance between them. “I have to talk about the bad guys, too. We can do it together.”
Isla’s fist reaches out.
“Deal?”
“Deal!”
“Now I gotta
finish dinner. I’m so hungry. All I’ve had to eat today is apples and coffee. My stomach is yelling at me.”
Nia frowns at her, displeased. “Eat.”
Isla laughs. “I want to, kiddo.”
I smile at Isla. “I like when you eat, Isla Grace.”
“Your intentions aren’t pure,” she mutters, shining like the sun with happiness.
“Definitely not.”
She snorts and kicks me away from her steaks. “Set the table, crazy boy.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I do as she says.
* * *
Isla is propped up on the counter with her Kindle in hand, completely engrossed in what she’s reading. Nia’s in bed. Her bed. Hopefully she stays there without Isla by her side, ‘cause Isla sure as hell isn’t sleeping there tonight.
Not gonna happen.
She’s with me.
I don’t think Isla even notices me approaching her. She’s in a whole ‘nother world with this book she’s reading. Smiling, I creep up on her and snatch the Kindle from her hand. She flies off the counter and sprints at me.
“Give it back! Oh my God, Seven!” she shrieks.
The terror in her tone intrigues me. What the hell is she reading?
I lift the Kindle above my head where she can’t reach, and like a toddler, she just starts jumping up and down frantically for it.
“Seven!” she screeches.
Still above her reach, I lift it over my eyes.
His hands slide down the sides of my body, gently scraping my soft skin with calloused fingers. I revel in the feel of his hands on my skin.
“Isla Grace,” I laugh. “You read smut?”
“Shut up!” Her hands fly over her beet-red face. “You’re a jerk. Give it back.”
As funny (and unexpected) as this is, she sounds so embarrassed that she’s ready to start crying. I walk over and wrap my arms around her.
“It’s just funny, angel. I’m not judging you.”
“Shut up,” she grumbles, staying stiff in my hold. “You’re an asshole. I hate you.”
This is hysterical. This has made my entire fuckin’ week.
“Okay, up you go for that.”
“Seven!” she screeches when I haul her tiny body over my shoulder. “Set me down, you brute! Oh my gosh, this is a nightmare.”
This is a dream, actually… I’m dying laughing the whole way to my bedroom, where I throw her on the bed.
“Seven…” She’s laughing a bit now, but her cheeks are still red. I slide in next to her, pin her hands to her chest with mine, and grab the Kindle.
“Seven, stop!”
She wiggles on the bed, but she ain’t gettin’ out of my hold. This is all too funny.
“His hands slide under my slip of a dress, making a moan slip out of my lips in a desperate plea. He’s so powerful. I shouldn’t be here. He’s dangerous and wrong and does bad things, but I think that’s part of the reason I’m falling for him.”
“Stop! Seven!”
Isla fights harder. Her leg slips between us and crashes down on my dick.
“Jesus, Isla!” I groan, releasing her.
She jumps on me and snatches the Kindle, cradling it to her chest protectively.
“Stay away from me!”
“Does Danny know the dirty shit you read?” I tease, sitting up on the bed.
“Yes, and he doesn’t judge.”
“I’m not judging.”
“You’re laughing at me!”
“With you, honey.”
“I’m not laughing,” she mutters, glaring at me. “I love my books. It’s not about the…” Her cheeks heat, and she stammers for a moment. “You know…”
“You can read about people fucking but can’t even say the word,” I laugh.
She bites her lip. “There’s emotion in the books. The… sex is just their love or pleasure being expressed.”
“You want pleasure, angel?”
“Stop,” she whispers half-heartedly as I crawl across the bed toward her. “S-Seven,” she stammers.
I pluck the Kindle from her hands and kiss her, running my hands down her sides the same exact way her smutty book said.
“You’re making me crazy!” she groans, pulling away.
“Oh, like you riled me up by joining as a mob doc.”
“Ha ha,” she deadpans.
She fidgets in her lap, not looking at me, trembling slightly.
“If I touch your pussy, are you gonna be wet, angel?”
“Oh my God!” she gasps, curling over. “Pl-please don’t say stuff like that.”
“Why? Does it make your blood hot?”
I move the hair out of her face, feeling sweat beading there.
“Seven…”
I slide my hand up the bottom of her dress until I’m a few inches from her wet heat.
“Do you want to be touched there, Isla Grace?”
I kiss the top of her head and cup her pussy. She jolts.
“Oh my gosh, Seven. Please do something or go away,” she pleads, sounding on the verge of tears.
Frowning, I turn her and inspect her face. She looks nearly pained.
“Have you ever had sex, Isla?”
Her cheeks heat. “I guess. If a stupid drunk night I regret as a teen counts.”
My mouth falls open. “But since then…”
“Nothing,” she admits, looking away. “I just work.”
“Alright, honey. Come here.”
I slip my hand through hers and lead her to the headboard. There’s no stopping this. I realize that now. The pull between us is too strong.
When she’s comfortable on my bed, I sit between her slightly spread thighs, taking in the pained arousal on her face. She’s squirming when I finally slide a finger inside her wet heat.
“Killing me here, woman,” I growl.
She’s soaked through the fabric of her lace panties.
“Jesus, angel.”
Her eyes are closed tight.
“Look at me, angel. Look at me as I get you off.”
When she opens her eyes again, they are dilated with lust. My dick bobs, begging for attention.
When I press down on her clit, she screeches and arches her back off the bed. I use my large, rough hand to press her hips back down. She bites down on her lower lip. She’s gonna scream. I already know. I smirk a little, imaging how loud she’ll get when I sink my cock in her for the first time.
I move her panties to the side and rub harder, up and down, up and down. Her legs start to quiver.
“Hey, you okay?”
“Hmm….” she murmurs.
I chuckle and pull my hand away. She shoots up, but I smile gently at her and push down on her lower abdomen. She frowns, but obeys the silent order.
“Good girl. Is this too fast?”
“No, just… do your thing so I can focus.”
I laugh. “You’re never what I expect.”
She chuckles. I give her a tender look.
“I wanna be inside you, Isla.” I place my hands on either side of her face, caging her in. “But I don’t wanna move too fast and I don’t want you to regret this.”
“You’re pretty amazing. You know that?”
“You’re doped up on happy hormones, Isla.”
She gives me a lopsided smile. “I know what I’m talking about.”
“It’s hormones,” I grunt.
Her hand comes up and cups my face. “I talked to your boss about what we discussed the other night.”
Fuckkkk.
“He’s looking into it.”
“Isla…” I whisper.
“I know you’re scared,” she whispers in that angelic voice of hers. “But it’s good. We’ll all be getting help. Think how much better we all can be.”
“You’re gonna be the death of me. Both of you.”
“I think not. I think we’re making you better.” She pokes my nose. “Now, what were you saying about being inside me?”
Her
eyelids flutter seductively. I lean down and nip her nose, pressing my hips against hers.
“I want to be inside you, honey,” I murmur.
“I want you there, too,” she whispers.
“You sure? There’s no going back.”
Her hand tightens on my cheek.
“I want you, Seven.”
My hands slide across the back of her neck as I pull the tie on her satin, halter top dress.
“You’re special to me, Isla,” I confess, running my lips down her exposed breasts.
“Seven…” she breathes. “Don’t hurt me.”
“I won’t, hun. I won’t.”
I pull the dress down her legs. With her stomach bared to me, I see the wound Stephan gave her. It’s swollen red and yellow, but not nearly as bad as it was before. Around it, the skin is reddened in streaks and I can see areas where it is beginning to scar. I trace it lightly with my fingertips.
“It’s hideous.”
“No.” I shake my head. “It’s not.”
“It’s okay. I know it is.”
Growling, I move to hover over her face. “It is not. It’s your story and your story is beautiful.”
I trace the healing wound lightly.
“You saved my daughter with this. It’s beautiful and shows your strength and depth of character. Perfect.”
Her eyes water, and with that, I nod and push back to seated, slowly removing my shirt, followed by my pants, boxers, and socks.
“Oh God,” she groans on a whimper when she sees me. “You’re so hot.”
“Thanks.” I smirk.
My smile falls when I glance down at her slender neck.
“Don’t go there, Seven. Don’t go there.”
“I hurt you.”
“It was an accident. What’s your full name?”
“Huh?”
“Your full name. I don’t know it. And why are you named after a number?”
My smile is faint. “Seven Jones. Boring as fuck. And my mom sucked. She had ten kids; One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, and Ten. My brothers and sisters. Delilah was Ten and the only one who I grew up with. I don’t know what she did with the rest of them or if their fathers took them or what, but I never really thought about it because I had Ten. Delilah. I got her name legally changed as soon as I could.”
