Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 95049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
This close, I can smell her floral scent, and I focus on it and not on the throbbing pain that’s taken over the entire right side of my body. It’s sweet and feminine, just like her.
“I was shot in the shoulder, and the bullet’s still in there. I won’t bleed out. It just hurts like hell.”
“What?” She grabs the front of my shirt and rips it open, the buttons flying every which way. “Oh my God! Lorenzo, you’ve been shot.”
I snort out a laugh, and she glares at me.
“This isn’t funny,” she chides.
“No shit.” My eyes lock with hers. “I could’ve been killed, and had my son been with me, he could’ve been as well. None of this is funny.” I go to wave my arms in front of me to emphasize my point and then flinch when I remember I have a bullet in my damn shoulder. “Between you drugging me and me getting gunned down in my own lobby, my life has turned into a fucking shit show. If I don’t laugh, I’m going to yell, and I don’t want to do that with my son in the other room.”
Just as I finish my rant, Matteo walks through my front door with the doctor following.
“I’ll …” Vanessa swallows thickly.
I notice her eyes are filled with tears, but I don’t have it in me to care. I’m in pain and bleeding all over my fucking couch, and my son could’ve been killed, thanks to this woman dragging me into her shitstorm.
“I’ll go make sure Leo is okay while they fix you up.”
She disappears into my office, and I drop my head back with a sigh.
“Please tell me you brought the good shit, Doc,” I say, looking up at the doctor. “I need this pain to go away.”
“God-fucking-dammit!” I hiss as pain radiates through my shoulder and down my arm.
It’s been eight hours since the doctor expertly removed the bullet and stitched me up, assuring me that I wouldn’t have any long-term effects. I had gotten lucky, as far as where I was hit, and aside from needing to give it time to heal, I’ll be okay.
The problem is, I was hit in my right shoulder, and I’m right-handed, making it hard to do anything like reach up into the cabinet, type on the computer, carry my son. The doctor gave me a sling I’m supposed to wear, but when I realized it hindered me from doing anything, I took it off.
“Let me help you,” Vanessa says for the millionth time today.
After Matteo and the doctor left, I canceled my office meeting, needing to get cleaned up and handle the couch. But when I came out, Vanessa had already taken care of the couch. It’s leather, so it wasn’t difficult to clean up, and she mopped and sanitized the floor where the blood had dripped.
I’ve been trying to get work done all day, but between the pain in my shoulder and being shaken up from almost being killed and the thought of my son being killed, I couldn’t focus. So, I resorted to playing with Leo. Only with a bad shoulder, it’s not easy. Trying to get on his level, change his diaper, pick him up … every step of the way, I’m struggling.
Ignoring her offer, I try to reach for the bottle when she grabs my hand and stops me.
“Lorenzo,” she hisses, “you’re obviously in pain, and I’m here. Stop being stubborn and let me help you. Once you’re feeling better, you can go back to hating me.”
I sigh and lower my arm.
I don’t hate her.
I want to. After the shit she did, I want more than anything to hate her. But I don’t.
How can I hate a woman who’s simply trying to survive?
She didn’t ask for any of this.
But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let her in …
I try to reach for the bottle again, and when the pain radiates through my shoulder, I lower it and nod. “Fine, you can help me. I mean, I was shot because of you. It’s the least you can do,” I grumble.
I expect Vanessa to give me the verbal lashing I deserve—or at the very least glare at me—but she simply nods.
“Excuse me,” she says.
I move out of her way, and she grabs the bottle, setting it on the counter, and then goes about making Leo a bottle.
While she does that, I join him back in the living room, lying on my left side so I’m at his level. In this position, my arm hurts less.
“Hey, buddy,” I say, ruffling his hair while he plays with his blocks and watches Bluey—a show that seems to run on loop when he’s awake.
The moment Vanessa makes her presence known, Leo starts to crawl over to her, babbling like crazy. He lifts his arms, and she glances at me, quirking a questioning brow.