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“Leave her,” he growls, and the doctor holds his hands up. “Perry, please arrange a room for Miss Lindel so she can get some rest.”
“Please put me down.” I lay rigid in his arms. He is all muscle. Bloody hell. Cain walks me over to the sofa and sits me down. The burn of heat from the short space of contact fires along my arm and throbs like an iron fist holding me still.
“Don’t move,” he grumbles and walks to talk with the doctor for a moment. Perry is on the phone and, after a few minutes, puts the receiver down.
“Managed to get one across the hall,” he says.
“Perry, quit fucking around.”
“There is a room across the hall,” Perry reiterates slowly, a mocking gleam in his eye.
Chapter5
Cain
She’s weightless, a slip of a woman, seemingly dead in my arms if it wasn’t for the warm breath teasing my jawline. “Perry!” I snap as I scoop her up and stalk back to my office. He pokes his head out of the door.
“Shit, what did you do?” Accusation rings in his tone. He moves back, peering past, to look at Lauren as she hangs limply in my arms.
“Nothing,” I scoff impatiently, “she fainted. Call Matteo.”
“Why, so you can both fight over who gets her first?”
Stopping short of the sofa, I turn to glare at him, Lauren still hanging in my arms. “She needs checking over. I don’t trust anyone else,” I grate loudly.
Holding his hands high, he grins. “Is this going to be like that time in New York?”
“Perry, call Matt.” Agitated, I wait for him to reach for his phone before I place Lauren down on the sofa. This is nothing like New York. Sabrina wasn’t an employee, and I had no idea about the engagement. Perry comes to stand beside me, staring down at Lauren. She looks peaceful, calm, and for once, she isn’t pinning me to the floor with angry eyes. “Better keep your cool around DeLuca, or he will use your little outpatient as a way to get at you for fucking his fiancée.” I grind my teeth loud enough for him to hear. I can deal with DeLuca. I was more concerned that Perry had a soft spot for the girl.
“I did him a favour,” I scoff. “I never would have fucked her if I had known who she was,” I spit, and Perry begins to chuckle. “You’re not funny.” I sigh. Usually, his antics and constant digs would have me chuckling, but I feel thread-fucking-bare.
“This chick has you so worked up. You’re fucked. Seriously fucked. Should I plan your funeral now?”
“Plan away. I’ll bury you with me.”
“Can you play The Sun Ain’t Gonna Shine Anymore?” He sways on the spot, singing the lyrics.
“Fuck me, you’re annoying,” I grumble.
Lauren groans, and we both lean over her as her eyes dance wildly behind her eyelids. They spring open, disorientated and panicked. She sits upright, almost head-butting us both as she tries to stand.
“Oh my god, my interview!” she cries, horrified, scrambling to look for her belongings. There is no fucking way I’m letting her leave for that interview. Concussed or otherwise. I drop down to her level. Something about putting us at the same height teases at my resolve. Her breath catches, her eyes slant suspiciously, and despite the dislike rolling off her in waves of animosity, I still want to kiss her senseless, press her back into the sofa, and remove that frown completely.
“You’re going to miss it. The onsite doctor is on his way to check you over.” What kind of establishment secures an interview in such a short space of time? Either one that is facing difficulties or a fucking competitor!
“No, I can still make it.” She attempts to stand, but her steps are uneven.
“Sit down!” I snap. “Forget the interview. I want you here.” Fuck me, I want her here, in this office, on the sofa. Now. It's eclipsing the sense of worry I have for her health. Perry snorts, and I grind my teeth. Lauren scowls. Working for me is no longer of interest to her. I’m not surprised—I spoke to her like shit, but I’m not losing her to a competitor, and I’m almost certain that’s who this interview is with. “You have a job here,” I remind her.
“I think I should go home.” Jesus, this woman is infuriating.
I laugh sharply, and her eyes slip away to my friend behind me. Taking her chin in my hand, I pull her face my way, and again, I find myself lost in the temptation of her mouth and imagine crushing my lips to hers. I’ve wanted to kiss her since she pointed her finger in my face. “No. You just fainted, Lauren. The doctor is coming to check you over. Please just stay seated,” I growl, irritated by my lack of control.
“I bet he tells you I have a concussion,” she remarks with a small smile playing on her mouth. My brows rise, and I fight another laugh. I wonder if she is just as prickly in the bedroom. I bet those full lips have an answer for everything. I bet she'd sing like a canary if I tanned her arse bright pink and crushed my mouth against the raw flesh.
Her thumb gets shoved into her mouth as she chews on the soft flesh. I take her hand, enjoying the way it feels small and fragile on my own. “Don’t,” I mutter. I could easily pull her finger and slip it into my mouth. Give her another reason to faint.
She’s an employee. Off limits.
