AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The catering crew is too busy plating up food to even notice or care about me as I walk through the kitchen looking for the girl. I find her in what looks like some kind of storeroom sitting on a milk crate with a medical kit at her feet.
“You need to wash that first,” I instruct. Indie’s head jolts up, her back straightening when she hears me speak. “It will flush out any small bits of glass and dirt you can’t see.”
“Thank you, but you really don’t have to help me. I can manage.”
Pulling up another milk crate across from hers, I sit down and search through the supplies. I get out some alcohol wipes, saline solution, and a wound dressing.
“Show me.” I extend my hand out toward her.
“I said, I got it.”
“And I said, show me,” I insist with a stern tone and look her dead in the eyes until she reluctantly places her hand in mine. The bleeding has slowed down. I can’t see any more glass in it, but it still needs to be cleaned out. Unscrewing the top off the saline solution, I pour it over the cut. Her face scrunches up, not making a sound.
“First day on the job?” I ask as I dab the cut with an alcohol wipe, trying to distract her.
Indie straightens her face but doesn’t make eye contact with me. “That obvious, is it?”
I smile. “Nah, just a hunch.”
She smiles back, and it near knocks me off the crate. Now that I am really looking at her up closely, she is fucking stunning, like naturally stunning. When she smiles, her baby blues twinkle a little in the light, but there’s a tragedy about her. Like a sad aura around her that draws me to her. This girl has an unfortunate history that she carries on her shoulders, and even though she is trying to hide it, I see it. I feel it.
When I blow on the skin around her cut to dry it, she sucks in a sharp breath.
“I’m sorry. I am just ensuring it's dry so the dressing will stay on.”
I finish sticking on the wound dressing as her eyes finally meet mine once again. They are full of substance and so much pain that it pulls heavily on my chest. She looks tired, and her matchstick arms poke out from the oversized blouse. I’m not sure what it is about her that has more of my attention, her beauty, or her brokenness. It is completely out of my character to even care. Yet here I am, playing nurse to a stranger.
“Thank you,” she says with a small shaky breath. “You didn’t need to do help me. I could have...”
I cut her off. “You're welcome.” I can tell by her responses and the way she is quick to defend herself, that she is not used to receiving help. This is a woman who is independent, self-sufficient, and proud. In the ten years I’ve trained to become an excellent lawyer, I’ve learned to read people. It’s imperative in my position. Their body language, their mannerisms, and the way they interact tell me a great deal about their character.
“I have to get back to work.” She stands up from the milk crate and pushes it back against the wall. “That’s if I still have a job.”
I zip up the first aid kit and stand also. At my full height next to her, she feels so small. “Don’t concern yourself. I will explain to Tony it was my fault.”
“You know Tony?” Her eyes sparkle with surprise then washes to embarrassment.
I chuckle. “Sweetheart, everyone knows Tony. He makes the best bacon-wrapped shrimp in Boston.”
“I will take your word for it.” She smiles again. “Anyway, thanks again.” Hurrying off, she leaves the storeroom and me with my curiosity.
Chapter Five
Indie
I LET OUT A LONG SIGH as I stare at the dark circles under my eyes that seem to have made a permanent home there. After my disastrous evening at the function, I was lucky enough to catch a lift home with one of the other catering staff who lives a block from me.
I throw the fifty dollars Tony paid me on my bed and flop down next to it. When Leah said her Uncle Tony paid cash, I was hoping it would be a bit more than ten dollars an hour, seeing you don’t get tipped at functions. I sigh. Beggars can’t be choosers, I guess.
Austin’s not home again, so even though I am dead tired, I can’t sleep. I am so worried about him that I feel physically ill. I try to think about something else, and my mind immediately goes straight to the events of tonight.
The fundraiser was full of women dressed in beautiful, stylish gowns, with fancy clutches and shoes that probably cost more than my life. Men wore tuxedoes, with their wealthy smiles and Italian leather shoes. I have never been in a room with so many rich and important people.
They carry themselves differently from us ordinary people. Every one of them has an air of confidence about them. The men don’t walk, they stride. The women don’t laugh, they chuckle gracefully. With their perfect teeth and immaculate hair, both young and old, they look glamorous and esteemed.
I panicked at first when I entered the crowded function room, being completely out of my element. I couldn’t stop thinking, What if I trip and drop the tray? But then I did. God, I was so embarrassed. The man who helped me looked at me like I was a disaster waiting to happen. Looking back now, I wish I’d asked his name.
Sophisticated, but with a rough edge to him, he smelt like expensive aftershave and masculinity. Tall, thick dark hair, and deep brown eyes that make your ovaries burst. His skin was naturally olive, and his impeccable presentation spoke volumes about his wealth and stature. With one look he commanded my presence. Surely, he has to have some defect in his bloodline somewhere. Nobody is that perfect.
