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“What in the fecking hell is this?” I slam my hand down on the desk with the documents that I was delivered at the hospital this morning. I may or may not have checked out early despite the doctor's orders. But I can eat and walk just fine, and I refused to sit in that bed while listening to that incessant beeping for one more minute. This stack of papers was just the catalyst.
“If I had known that telling you would result in a temper tantrum, I wouldn’t have told you in the first place.” He leans back in his seat, not even looking the least bit remorseful.
“I told youIplanned to fake my own death so that my father would leave me alone. I did not ask you to do this for me!”
I point at all of the pictures of my ‘body’ being delivered to my family and from the funeral they had for me. Even a copy of the death certificate is there. All wrapped up in a pretty little bow when he didn’t even so much as ask me if I wanted his help.
“The incident at the airport was the best cover-up.” He folds his hands in his lap. “With the damage done to the building we were in, it made sense that you would have died. Plus, if your father sends anyone looking, they will find your DNA all over the scene. It was too good of an opportunity to give up, Little Fox.”
“Do not,” I angrily point a finger in his face, “call me that when we are having a serious discussion. You did not have my permission to do this. Maybe I would have wanted to do things differently. Plus…”
I let my voice get louder, not giving a gobsmack that his office door is still open, “you didn’t tell me you were doing this. I’ve still been in contact with Kia since the accident. What is my father going to think about my phone still being active when I’m dead?”
The smirk that plays at his lips has me dangerously close to smacking him. I don’t know what would happen if I landed a hit across the Mafia King’s face, but dammit I’m getting very close to not giving a shite about the consequences.
“The phone you’ve been using since you woke up has been one I provided. I simply had all of your information transferred and kept the same model because I assumed you liked it. Your father has no idea you’re still alive,Little Fox. I am very proficient at what I do.”
I swear my face turns as red as my hair. You know in kids' movies when a character gets so angry fire lights up their head?Well, call me Hades, because this hellcat is lit.
Wincing as I move forward, I push down the pain because no. I will not go from one man ruling my life and making my decisions for me to another.Not going to happen.
Boris looks down at my side. I can feel it getting wet with my blood, but I’m making a point here before I call Doc. I approach his chair and wrap my hand around his throat.
“Listen, I no longer give a flying fecking monkey who you are. I am Nessa O’Neil and I will make my own decisions about my life from here on out. Got it, big boy?”
Something in his eyes flashes, but I choose to ignore it. I am not walking out of this room until he agrees—or kills me. Either option works.
Boris doesn’t balk at my boldness, in fact, he pushes into it. I squeeze tighter, leaning over him as my hair falls around us. Something happens at that moment.
A spark ignites. When his hands go to the back of my legs, I let them. He pulls me into his lap as a tether breaks, the build-up of tension between us snapping like a thin fishing wire being pulled just past what it can handle.
Before I know it, my lips are on his and his large hands are resting on my ass as I straddle his lap. He pulls me closer and I grind down on him, moaning into his mouth while I keep hold of his throat. My other hand grips the longer strands of his salt-and-pepper hair as my tongue claims his mouth.
His hands palm my ass, my hips, moving up to my back and stomach until they freeze. I pull back when his body goes stiff and stare down at his blood-stained fingers.
“Little Fox,” he growls as I let go of his throat. The adrenaline of everything fades in an instant. Suddenly, I’m in pain. Like, a lot of pain.
“Fuckkk,” I say as I try to stand up, but my body doesn’t want to move that way. I end up curling into him with my hands clenching at my abdomen. He types a message on his phone, and I assume it’s for Doc.
Boris stands with me in his arms and takes me to a couch on the side of the room. Laying me down, he takes off his jacket and balls it up to press into my stomach. It hurts like a bitch but I’m not hemorrhaging. I just need to get repatched up.
Taking a deep breath, I try not to focus on the pain because Boris seems to be in a panic. I take his hand and look at him.
“Hey, hey,” I say, bringing him back from wherever he went. “I’m okay, I just need a few stitches replaced. I’m okay.”
I also haven’t walked more than up and down the hallway of the hospital since I recovered, so I assume most of the pain is from the way I stormed up to this building.
“You shouldn’t be bleeding this far out, Nessa. You are not okay.” His voice is stern and cold. Very different from the man who just had his hands all over my body.
“They had to reopen the wound because it got infected, remember? The skin was just starting to heal again and I pushed it. I’m okay.”
He shakes his head and I realize his face is pale. “Hey, big guy, talk to me. What’s going on?”
He clenches his jaw and closes his eyes. “I just can’t lose you too, okay?”
I let out a little laugh, even though it hurts like a bitch. “I’m not going anywhere, Boris. Irish women are much harder to kill, I promise.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” he snaps.
