“You look it.”
“I’m not,” he snarled like a beast caged.
“That needs stitches,” I said, nodding toward his forehead. “I can do them for you.”
He frowned. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not.”
“I said it’s fine,” he said, louder and angrier that time.
Asshole.
I pursed my lips and scowled at him and he chuckled. “I can handle a couple a cuts and scrapes.”
“I’m training to be a nurse,” I said. “I can do the stitches if you have the right stuff.”
He tutted and shook his finger at me. “You’re trainin’ in business and accounts so you can help with daddies business,” he replied, his deep voice rumbling over me. He tapped the side of his head. “You think I didn’t do my research on you?” He shook his head at me trying to trick him, like he was a disappointed father.
Double asshole.
“That’s what my daddy thinks. That’s what he wants me to do. But I want to be a nurse like my mom used to be.”
He stared at me in confusion like that was the strangest thing he’s ever heard. “A nurse?”
I nodded firmly.
I’d never told anyone that. I’d never been able to trust anyone enough to tell them the truth. My daddy controlled every part of my life—who my friends were, where I went, who I went with, how long I was there for, and what job I had. I couldn’t afford to trust anyone with my secrets, yet there I was spilling my secrets to a complete stranger. The man who had taken me and held me against my will.
I didn’t trust anyone in the world, and yet I’d just trusted the Devil with my most precious secret. I was completely fucked in the head.
He was still staring at me, disbelief and annoyance in his features. “Nurses don’t get paid as much as accountants,” he finally replied.
It was my turn to laugh then. “It’s not always about the money.”
“It’s always about the money,” he said, repeating my earlier words.
“It’s not.”
“Or the drugs.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Or the guns.”
I shook my head.
“Or the pussy,” he said, crudely raising an eyebrow at me.
“You’re an asshole,” I sneered. “Do you want me to fix your head or not?”
“Not,” he replied coldly.
“Fine, get an infection and die. See if I care.”
If I could have folded my arms over my chest and looked away, I would have. Instead I was forced to lie there and scowl at the wall.
“You’re ridiculous, you know that!” I said with a shake of my head. God, he was so utterly pathetic. All men were. They always had to act so macho, like they didn’t care about getting hurt. I could see the pain he was in, and yet he wouldn’t back down because he didn’t want his masculinity affected.
