Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
I quickly take hold of her and lift her. Her arms shoot around my neck, and she holds onto me for dear life as I walk into the aisle and toward the sign that shows where the toilet is.
“Fuck, I’m bleeding again,” Georgi snaps.
I hear movement, and glancing over my shoulder, I see Raya, Mr. Torrisi, and Santino getting up.
There’s an urge to return to him so I can tend to his wound, but Simi comes first, and I hurry into the toilet. Shocked to see it’s a full bathroom with a shower, sink, and even a seat, I put Simi down and lower her sweatpants before helping her to sit on the toilet.
“I’m sorry, Mama,” she whispers while relieving her bladder.
“You didn’t do anything wrong, milo moe.”
When she’s done, we flush, and I pull up her pants before leading her to the sink. After washing our hands, I lift her into my arms, and as I open the door, I hear Georgi chuckle while saying, “Chill. It’s just a little blood. Jesus.”
“Little blood, my fucking ass,” Mr. Torrisi growls. “The stitches came loose.”
With Simi’s need taken care of, the urge to tend to Georgi overwhelms me, and I hurry down the aisle to get to him.
Raya and Mr. Torrisi are crowding Georgi, and Santino is crouched in the aisle, digging through a large first aid kit.
Georgi’s eyes latch onto me when I’m near, and the corner of his mouth lifts. “Don’t worry, my nurse is here, so you can all sit down.”
Mr. Torrisi moves toward me, and I take a step backward, lowering my head, but instead of interacting with me, he takes a seat by the other men who are sitting in the section near the front of the cabin.
Raya takes the seat her father sat in previously, and it gives me space to move. I set Simi down beside Georgi, then get to work.
The sleeve is rolled up to his elbow, his left forearm exposed. Santino gestures at the bag, then takes a step backward.
Seeing that everything I’ll need is in the first aid kit, I first clean the area around the wound. I’m careful as I remove the remainder of the old stitches.
After I push the suture thread through the eye of the needle, I glance at Simi. She’s rubbing the silk shirt between her fingers, her faced pressed against the oval window as she looks outside.
Concentrating on what I’m doing, I close the wound up and clean the area again before wrapping a bandage around Georgi’s forearm.
The moment I’m done and I begin to gather the supplies and soiled antiseptic wipes, Georgi says, “Leave it, Nina. Santino will take care of that. Come sit.”
I nod and straighten to my full height. For a rare moment, I glance down at Georgi, and noticing how pale he is, I look at the bag again and ask, “Is there anything in there for pain?”
“Yes.” Santino gestures to a selection I would’ve killed to have in the torture chamber.
Crouching again, I look at the pre-filled syringes before glancing up at Georgi. “Are you allergic to anything?”
He shakes his head. “Give me the morphine.”
That tells me how much pain he’s in, and I don’t hesitate for a second longer. I don’t think about the other people around us as I unbutton his shirt until I’m able to expose his shoulder. I wipe the site clean before I double-check the injection, then push the needle into his olive-toned skin.
Once I’m done, I press a cotton ball to catch any drops of blood. My gaze lifts, and suddenly I find myself staring into Georgi’s eyes. A smirk forms around his mouth, something cocky and playful, reminding me of our interaction in the hotel bar. Even his tone is teasing as he says, “You take such good care of me, moeto hubavo mishle.”
My face warms up from hearing him call me his beautiful little mouse, and instantly feeling self-conscious and on guard, I yank away. I drop the cotton ball by the wipes and quickly take my seat, pulling Simi onto my lap.
“Can we take off?” a man asks from the front.
“Yes,” Georgi replies while fastening the buttons of his shirt again.
I put on the seat belt and hold Simi tight.
“Is the prince’s owie okay?” she whispers.
Georgi positions his elbow on the leather armrest between our seats and leans a little closer. “I’m more than okay. Your Mama took care of my owie, so you don’t have to worry.”
She looks at Georgi’s bandaged forearm, then at his face. Just as she’s about to say something else, the plane begins to move, and her gaze widens.
Neither of us has ever flown before, and I’m feeling very anxious, so it makes me worry about Simi.
When the aircraft lifts off the ground, my stomach drops horribly, and as we climb into the air, there’s a weird sensation in my throat and stomach.