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“What the fuck, dude?” Kenneth asks, grabbing a tissue from the box on the desk and spitting blood into it.
“You heard what I said. Allie is off limits, and that goes for the rest of you fuckers too,” Nick growls, gesturing his finger around the room at all of us, yanking the door open, and slamming it with a loud bang behind him.
“Well damn, this day just keeps getting better and better,” Cole smirks, taking a bite of the candy bar he’s just unwrapped.
I walk over to Kenneth, and he has himself settled into position. “You alright?”
“Yeah, it’ll take a lot more than what Nick’s bringing to drop my ass, but damn. I didn’t hear shit about him and Allie being a thing. Didn’t have a clue. I was just being my crude-ass self, which he doesn’t usually have a problem with.”
“Yeah, I know. Don’t sweat it, just tread light around the whole Allie thing. I’m not exactly sure what’s going on in those circles either, but whatever it is, he probably just needs some space.”
“Roger that, man. Shit!”
“I’ll head upstairs. I can jump back on the monitors for a while and give you some time to wash up. I have a meeting with the Larussio team in a while if you don’t mind covering again for that.”
“Nope, don’t mind at all. Just text me when you’re back online,” Kenneth replies, dabbing at the blood on his lip. I can’t tell for sure, but I’m fairly sure he must have bit into his tongue pretty bad because his lip looks fine, but the blood doesn’t seem to be easing up just yet.
I’ve never seen Nick get wigged out about a woman, not one damn time in all the years I’ve known him. That’s probably because I’ve never known him to date a woman more than once, and calling it a date is probably stretching the whole sordid event. He brings new and more precise meaning to the phrase “love them and leave them.” Hell, I don’t think he’s ever even stayed the night with a woman, always tiptoeing into the security camp in the wee hours of the morning unless he saves the all-nighters for his time off.
I walk down the hall and head back upstairs to the monitors. As soon as I do, I get a text that causes my chest to tighten and leaves me hitting the security team’s group contact number within seconds.
What the fuck is happening?
Chapter Sixteen
Alexis
It takesme forever to get to sleep, rewinding Sheldon’s text in my mind over and over again.I’m fine Alexis, but things are most definitely not okay.What things? Things as in what he’s working on, or us? I already know because the knot of regret is tugging on my insides and reminding me of his very frank conversation with me. And it’s not as though I didn’t consciously make these decisions, the ones that don’t adhere to the security protocols, or going back to work at the salon, which will directly impact my ability to spend time with Sheldon in Italy and that go against everything he’s shared with me that he wants in a dynamic.
I toss and turn for some time, running through the reasons it’s not a good idea to give up control. Society will disapprove of a modern woman freely entering a relationship with a man who admittedly wants complete control in our dynamic. He not only wants it, but he wants it twenty-four seven. He wants me to do what he says when he says it. And I can’t help the way I’m made. I love the thought of Sheldon taking care of every single one of my needs. The lull of the rain outside and the effects of three beers and a heavy meal finally win out, and sleep eventually comes, but with it, so does the nightmare, the lash of the belt pelting down on my hot blistered skin with deep, angry strikes playing in my mind from the last time I gave up complete control.
In the morning,the sun is shining brightly into the bedroom windows. There are still no new messages from Sheldon, but maybe that’s for the best. I wouldn’t have a clue in the world what to say or how to tell him I can’t go back to Italy for another week because things are just so different now. Maybe after all the drama is over the offer won’t even be on the table, but there simply is no choice. I have to keep the salon viable. I have to do this. It’s not because it gives me a reason to hide from what I want. What society thinks shouldn’t matter. Sheldon would never do the horrible things my abusive ex did, and my brain knows this, but it’s almost impossible to get my mind and my fearful heart wrapped around that reality.
I try to shake off my mood while getting showered and dressed for the day. I go to the kitchen, where Liam keeps glancing at his watch, so I grab a breakfast bar to eat. Trent’s driving the black Caddy today, and the first stop is the hospital. Jan’s holding her own when we arrive, but she hasn’t even made a small improvement, much less the large gains everyone initially thought she would.
The nurse on duty, Camellia, is a personal friend of Allie’s. I’ve gone out for drinks with the two of them a few times over the years, but they mostly go when they feel like commiserating about a particularly bad day at the hospital, and its usually way past the time I’ve crawled into my cozy bed for the night.
She answers all my questions about Jan, trying hard to pay attention. It’s difficult not to smile at the blush on her face, and the covert glances she keeps giving Trent. He usually seems oblivious to the interest he stirs in the ladies, but this one certainly seems to have attracted his full attention. It’s no wonder because Camellia is drop-dead gorgeous, with an incredible body that’s hard to miss even underneath the drab-looking uniforms they have to wear.
Allie’s told me how tenderhearted and caring she is with her patients, and I see it firsthand as she tries to alleviate my fear. “She has one of the best physicians in the business and many great things to live for. Give it some more time, and I’ll keep a special eye on her this evening,” Camellia says to me, and while her words are encouraging, that doesn’t stop the thought that any minute Jan could take a turn for the worse.
I hold Jan’s hand after Camellia leaves the room. “Rest easy. The shop is in good condition, and we have plenty of clients. I’ve extended hours a few nights this week so we don’t have to worry about money.”
The gentle squeeze on my hand tells me exactly what I already knew. The salon and being able to pay all the bills are at the top of her mind. “It’s all taken care of,” I say, kissing her on the forehead, careful not to disturb her oxygen mask. I spend most of the hour reading the next part of the novel we’ve started before the nurse comes into the room and tells us our time is up.
I’m not scheduled to start in the salon until eleven o’clock this morning, so I decide to head to the cafeteria for an early lunch—a brunch of sorts because my grab-and-go granola bar just wasn’t enough to tide me through the day. I’m about to tell the security team, who are hovering just outside the door, what my plan is when my phone rings.
I don’t recognize the number so answer cautiously, but immediately recognize the high-pitched voice of one of our best clients. Glenda’s talking a million miles a minute, launching into a story about a cousin’s party, and how she forgot to make an appointment, and how she’ll just die of embarrassment if she doesn’t get her roots touched up. I’m laughing to myself as I pass the security guards, gesturing for them to give me a minute. I find a seat so I can rummage through my purse for the salon schedule. One of these days, maybe Jan will let me put it online. I scour the times, offering open appointments in the next couple days, but nothing offered works for Glenda because she babysits her grandson nights.
“I have this morning relatively open,” I inform her, but silently pray she doesn’t want the time realizing as quickly as I said it that it would mean changing plans suddenly, which would make the scowly security guards get all barky with me again.
My heart sinks when she launches into a slew of gratitude. “I can’t thank you enough. You’re absolutely saving my life today. Literally, like I would be dead to my entire social circle if I showed up with a big bright stripe of gray painted down the center of my head.”
I sigh quietly, smiling over the phone at the woman’s dramatic dilemma. I’m happy to help, we need the business, and there’s absolutely no way to politely rescind the offer, but I’m sure as hell not looking forward to dealing with the grumps. She lives fairly close to the salon. I can probably get her started, at least get the color on before my first appointment. “I could meet you there in about half an hour.”
“Oh my gosh! That would be simply perfect! You don’t know what this means to me, Alexis. Thank you so very much!” she gushes before disconnecting and leaving me staring into the stern faces of both Trent and Liam.
I inhale deeply. “I didn’t have a choice. Glenda Porter is one of our best clients, and she didn’t have anyone to do her hair. It’s for her cousin’s party, and all her friends are planning to be there.”
