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Rounding the last corner, I find a guestroom door slightly ajar, soft light spilling out into the otherwise shadowy hall. Taking a deep breath, I push the door open and there he is—Constantino, laying on the bed, shirtless as if it's just another day in paradise. I try not to stare, but it's impossible not to notice the intricate snake tattoos that adorn his muscular chest and arms, slithering around his biceps and curling over his shoulders.
"Like what you see, or are you just window shopping?" he smirks, catching me in the act. He's always smirking at me. At least he doesn't seem to be on the warpath. Maybe he was just reserving that for Teddy.
I roll my eyes and step into the room. "I'm here to change your bandage because your dearest brother seems incapable." The words come out sharper than I intended, but I don't care. I just want this over with.
He chuckles, causing goosebumps to prickle on my skin. "Did you think he was capable?"
I put down my latte and pull some supplies out of my bag, trying not to let his condescending tone get to me. "He cleans upmurder scenes for a living. I thought he'd be able to change out a few bandages." Walking over to inspect the wound, I can't help but feel a twinge of annoyance when I see it festering slightly. "He shouldn't have let it get this far."
"It's not really his fault," Constantino says, and I glare at him.
"So, whose fault is it then?"
"Always so quick to blame, doctor," he chides, meeting my gaze with that infuriating smirk. "You should talk to a therapist about why you're like that."
"I speak with one weekly, thanks," I say to him, trying to ignore the way his gaze seems to pierce through my carefully constructed professional facade. The smell of disinfectant hangs heavily in the air, making it difficult to breathe.
"Oh? So who do i need to bribe to get access to all your secrets?" he asks, a smug grin tugging at the corner of his lips.
I sigh, feeling the weight of my exhaustion. "Why would you even be a tad bit interested in my secrets?" I ask him, my voice edged with frustration.
"I'm the sort of man who's always interested in secrets," he says, his tone laced with danger and intrigue. It unnerves me, but I refuse to let him see that.
"Well, chase other peoples' then," I say, forcing myself to focus on cleaning his wound. As I spray the antiseptic onto his skin, I can feel the tension in his body, even though he tries to hide it. He's in pain, but he's pretending like he's not.
"Nah," he grits out, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "No one else gives me a good enough chase. Not like you, Doc."
"My name's not 'doc,'" I snap, irritation bubbling inside me. Why does he have to make everything so difficult?
"Eve, then," he says, using my nickname. My heart skips a beat, betraying me, as the sound of my name on his lips sends a jolt of heat through my body.
"On second thought, just call me doc," I say, hastily trying to regain control of the situation. I don't like how he has this effect on me, and I'm not about to let him see it.
"Fine, Doc," Constantino smirks as I begin to clean his wound. The antiseptic makes him wince slightly, but he quickly masks the pain with that infuriating grin of his. "So tell me, did you really come here just to play nurse or are you just looking for an excuse to see me?"
"Your ego is astonishing," I scoff, focusing on rebandaging the wound with precise movements. My hands may be steady, but my heart is anything but. I can feel it pounding in my chest, a traitorous reminder of my unwanted attraction toward him. "I'm here because your brother failed at a simple task and apparently none of you can be trusted to take care of yourselves properly."
"Ah yes, trust. Such a fragile thing." He watches me intently, green eyes flickering with amusement. "You don't trust easily, do you, Eve?"
"Cut the psychoanalysis, Constantino," I snap, feeling my cheeks flush under his scrutiny. "I'm not here for a therapy session."
"Oh, that's right. Because, you already have one," he chuckles, seemingly enjoying my discomfort. "But maybe you're here because you want something else? Something more... primal, perhaps?"
"Keep dreaming," I retort, trying to ignore the heat that rises within me at his suggestion. It's true; I've fantasized about letting go, giving in to desire without fear or insecurities holding me back. But the thought of doing so with a man like Constantino Maldonado is more terrifying than thrilling.
"Shame," he murmurs, his eyes never leaving mine. "I think we could have some real fun together, you and I. Two people who understand each other's darkness, unafraid to explore those hidden depths."
"Focus on healing, not your twisted fantasies," I say, finishing the bandage and stepping away from him. My body is betraying me, screaming for the very thing he's offering. But I won't give in. I can't.
As I finish securing the last of the bandages around his wound, I can't help but feel a sense of relief. Not just because I've done my job, but because it means I can finally put some distance between myself and Constantino's infuriating presence. Before I can even take a step away from him, however, he grabs my wrist and pulls me down onto the bed with him.
"Hey!" I exclaim, but my protest dies on my lips as our eyes lock. For a moment, I lose myself in those intense green eyes, feeling both entranced and unnerved by the storm brewing beneath their surface.
He smirks, tracing a finger against my lips, sending shivers down my spine. "You know, Eve," he says, deliberately using my name now, "I've found you quite attractive since we first met. I'd love to find out just what makes you tick."
My heart races, and for a second, I'm tempted to give in. But then, reality crashes back down on me, and I wrench my hand free from his grasp. "Men made me stop ticking quite some time ago," I tell him, trying to keep my voice steady. "So you're wasting your time."
His smirk doesn't waver, but I don't stick around to see if it will. I scramble off the bed, my legs unsteady beneath me as I make my way out of the room. I can feel his eyes on me, burning into my back as I flee, but I don't dare look back.
