Something scorched the inside of my throat, and I swallowed back the aching lump. Fuck. What was this? Why now? I fucked. I didn’t care and I didn’t get tangled in anything other than bed sheets.
Jesus fucking Christ.
The last time I’d felt the burden of agony on my chest, I was just a boy learning about emotion and its repercussions. Then I became a man overnight, and those types of feelings became inconsequential. Yet, watching this woman give into that pain of losing a total stranger brought back a tidal wave of passion I’d probably never survive despite being a fucking strong swimmer.
Silently cursing, I turned up the self-loathing and focused on her. “Maybe I’m the last person you want to hear this from, little fox and maybe it’s not the best fucking advice right now but people die all the time and you’re a doctor. Master that emotion if you want to succeed in this field or change it.”
She laughed but there was no bliss in the sound, only dry sarcasm. “God, you’re such an ass.” She jerked her face out of my hold.
“I’m an ass, yes,” I gritted, grasping her arms to keep her from rising. “But put yourself into a situation of six seriously injured people landing in your care at the same time, will you still be able to do your job effectively? Will you still muster enough strength to save at least one of them or save five and lose one? Or would you fucking cave and lose them all?” My words were harsh, grating yet I needed her to see her potential, understand her destiny. Tell me she could handle it without losing her shit. Because this was just the beginning for her.
I felt her body go slack before blowing out a deep breath to compose herself. “I don’t know,” she whispered, her watery brown eyes filled with resignation.
“You have time, don’t waste it.”
She frowned. “Time?”
Slowly, I nodded. “Mastering emotion takes time, but only you can decide whether you want to win or lose, whether you want to subjugate or liberate, surrender or conquer.”
“Didn’t take you for the philosophical type.” She smiled, wiping her tears.
“Maybe because you see me as nothing more than a monster who likes to fuck you.” My lips twitched. She rolled her eyes, rising. “Have dinner with me tonight?”
Her jaw dropped, her eyes round marbles of shock.
I grinned. Strangely, I liked surprising this woman. I could easily argue it brought a sense of satisfaction, but I knew better.
“Are you asking me out on a date, Mr. Rossi?” I didn’t miss the sarcasm in her words.
“Or I could just have you for dinner?” My brow shot up; my smirk full blown.
Shaking her head, she turned her back on me and climbed the three steps to the door. There, she paused with her hand on the knob then looked down at me. “What about breakfast instead?”
“I’ll fetch you.” I strode away before she could answer.
Something was seriously wrong with me. I didn’t date or do breakfast. A healthy smoothie followed my gym routine gave me plenty energy. Why the fuck had I suggested a meal?
“You’re losing your shit, Remo.” Sliding behind the wheel of my car, I rested my elbow on the door, my eyes on the spot Ishika had vacated. The first time I came close to feeling anything remotely romantic, I was a kid looking for salvation but even that was snatched from me, like every other thing that meant something in my life.
Rubbing my thumb over my bottom lip, a slow smile snaked over my tense expression. I might hate this hold she was beginning to have over me, admittedly it was refreshing.
Sometimes, a man just wants to be a man.
Lost in the whole date shit, I’d walked into, I didn’t realize why I took the chopper back to Manhattan until the silent slide of the elevator doors opened into Lorenzo’s penthouse suite opened and I stepped inside unannounced.
The apartment was quiet in that expensive, controlled way my brother preferred. Clean lines. Thick glass. No unnecessary noise or clutter.
“Jesus—” Rayden snapped on his way from the kitchen to the living room; a bag of Cheetos tucked under his arm and a can of coke in each hand. So disgustingly domesticated for someone dating into a family that buried problems in concrete. “Do you ever announce yourself, or is subtlety illegal in your bloodline?”
I smirked, loosening my jacket. “Relax. If I was here to kill you, you’d already be on the floor.”
“Comforting.” He rolled his eyes, following me into the living room that showcased an expanse of Manhattan beyond the floor to ceiling windows.
Lorenzo sat on a couch, jacket off, shirt sleeves rolled, a Tablet in one hand. He looked up the second I entered, noddeda greeting and set the device down. Rayden handed him a coke and held the other out to me.
“Thanks.” I shook my head. “I need something stronger.” I headed for the bar where I poured a stiff drink and downed it in one go then poured another. When I turned around, two pairs of eyes studied me while tension rode my ass.
“Something’s wrong.” Rayden placed his snacks on a side table next to his seat, his eyes searching for a crack in my rigid demeanor.
