Chapter 8 - Blair
It’s quarter to five when I start packing up. My first day of work went really well. I enjoy it! Apart from the very rude interruption when Simon did that alpha move on Matthew, that was just embarrassing.
But in reality, that isn’t what’s been looping in my head.
I almost kissed him!
Or, technically, he almost kissed me and did nothing at all to stop it from happening.
Did I want him to kiss me?
Ugh. I can’t lie to myself. He’s gorgeous. There was chemistry between us from the moment I met him. But I keep reminding myself that it was all orchestrated, and he was probably faking the attraction. No, he wasn’t. He was fascinated with me.
It doesn’t even matter. He’s rude, bossy, and controlling, and I am counting the days until I can get back to my life.
Although… I really do like this job.
And I’ve probably lost my other one by this time anyway.
And when Simon isn’t trying to control everything, he can be really fun to talk to.
Dammit, he is so sexy!
My mind has been looping in this same way for hours since he stopped by the office.
I call out a goodbye to everyone in the open-plan area, smiling and waving. Matthew’s wave is tight and awkward. I hope things aren’t weird between us from now on. I have to work with the guy every day.
In the elevator, I fish my phone out of my purse to book an uber but instead find a message from Simon.
I’m outside the building. Come down when you’re ready, and I’ll drive you home.
For the smallest moment, I think, oh, that’s sweet.
But then I remember that I don’t want him to control everything, and annoyance spikes through me.
He actually came back here just to fetch me.
Does he not trust me to get home on my own?
Maybe he thinks I’m going to break the deal and try to run away again.
If he doesn’t trust me, then how can he ask me to trust him? It’s a two-way thing!
I storm out of the building with a scowl on my face, glaring at his dark-tinted windows. Even though I can’t see him, I know he’s watching me.
He climbs out of the car and walks to the passenger side to hold the door open for me.
I don’t say thanks as I duck in, and as soon as he gets back in on his side, I start lecturing him.
Part of me knows I need to be angry with him to stop myself from thinking about the almost-kiss.
The other part of me is in denial about that.
“What are you doing here?” I snap.
“I came to fetch you. I didn’t want you traveling home without me,” he says tightly.
“I am perfectly capable of calling an Uber. What the hell is going to happen to me in an Uber?” I argue. “Why don’t I feel like I have any freedom around you!?” I shout a little louder as my annoyance builds.
He groans, leaning forward slightly as he pulls out of the parking bay.
I turn to look at him, wondering why he isn’t fighting back or being his usual controlling self.
That’s when I notice the blood on the shirt beneath his jacket.
“Is that blood!?” I squeal in shock, grabbing the edge of his jacket to pull it aside.
The entire left side of his shirt is soaked in blood. Bright red and sticky.
“It’s okay, it’s not as bad as it looks,” he sighs.
But now that I’m more aware of things, I notice how exhausted he sounds, and like he’s in a lot of pain.
“You shouldn’t be driving! Go straight to the hospital. Or pull over and let me drive you to the hospital!” I demand, stress making my voice higher-pitched than it normally is.
“We’re not far from the mansion. I’ll sort myself out when we get there.”
“Simon! You need a hospital. That is a lot of blood!”
He shakes his head, taking a slow breath. “No hospitals. Hospitals ask questions.”
“What happened?” I ask quietly.
“My brother ran into some trouble, and I had to go help him. One of the assholes pulled out a knife and stabbed me. It’s not deep, I don’t think. It just hurts like a fucking bitch,” he groans, gripping the steering wheel tighter.
“Please, go to the hospital. You might need stitches.”
I’ve never been in a situation like this. I’ve never heard of someone not wanting to get help after they’ve been stabbed!
He ignores my repeated pleas and continues driving toward the mansion. When we get there, he stops close to the front door and staggers out of the car.
I hurry around, wanting to help him somehow, but not sure what to do.
“Open the door for me if you don’t mind?” he says, handing me the house keys.
I run ahead and open the door, holding it wide as he mutters and groans, walking as though he’s in a lot of pain. I lock the door behind him and leave the keys on the kitchen counter, following him into the guest bathroom downstairs.
“What do you need?” I ask.
“Nothing. There’s a fully stocked first aid kit here in the…” His voice trails off as he tries to shrug his jacket off, and pain shoots through him.
“Stop moving so roughly. Go slower,” I complain.
I move closer to him and help him pull his jacket off. His shirt is sticking to him. “I need to take this off, too, if you don’t mind helping?” he says softly.
Without answering, I step in front of him and begin to undo the buttons. My eyes drift to the massive patch of fresh blood. It’s so red. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that much blood.
A wave of his cologne washes over me, and my mind instantly returns to the almost-kiss.
I clear my throat, annoyed with myself. The man is practically bleeding to death, and I’m thinking about a stupid kiss that didn’t even happen.
I gently tug his shirt open and almost moan softly when I see his six-pack. I’ve seen it in the pool. But there was water in the way, and I was annoyed with him. It’s different now that I am standing right in front of him with his chest at eye level.
I bite my lip and remind myself again that he needs medical attention, not some random girl perving him.
He winces when I lift the fabric away from the wound. It sticks to his skin where the blood has started to dry.
“Oh shit, I made it bleed more!” I squeal in panic.
He chuckles.
It takes me by surprise.
A deep, wholehearted chuckle rumbles through his chest as he drops his shirt to the floor.
“Take a breath, Blair. It’s really not as bad as it looks,” he says, sounding amused.
I scrunch my nose, annoyed that he’s teasing me for panicking when he’s the one who got stabbed. Stepping back from him, I pull my mouth to the side, wondering if I should just walk away and let him struggle on his own or keep helping him.
Eventually, the kinder part of me wins, and I turn toward the first-aid kit sitting on the vanity.
“What do you need me to do?” I huff, sounding annoyed.
“I am sure I can manage on my own,” he says cautiously.
I sigh and shake my head. “No, I want to help. I’ve just never done this before,” I say more gently.
“The disinfectant. In the orange bottle. Yes. And the gauze. And some tape. That green stuff. Yes.” I pull each item out as he lists it.
“Should I wipe most of the blood away with a cloth?” I ask.
“Yes, use the hand towel. Soak it in some water.” He groans as he sits on the side of the bath. While I wipe the blood away, he holds a piece of gauze over the wound and applies pressure to stop it from bleeding more.
I kneel in front of him, sitting between his legs as I try to be as gentle as I can while cleaning the blood from his body.
“I’m not that fragile, Blair, you don’t have to treat me like glass,” he muses.
I roll my eyes and scrub at him a little more vigorously. It is easier and goes quicker to get most of the blood cleaned away.
“Now the disinfectant,” he says. “It hurts like a bitch, but you have to pour it right into the wound.”
“Will it get deep enough?” I ask nervously. “What if there is an infection inside?”
“I’ve got antibiotics I can take. It won’t be a problem.”
As I splash the alcohol disinfectant over him, he growls and grips the edge of the bath so tightly it turns his knuckles white. His muscles flex from his stomach all the way up to his neck and along his arms.
I’ve used almost half the bottle to clean the wound he looks more pale than usual.
I decide to try to talk to him to distract him from the pain.
“Your rival, Jaco, what did he do to you to make you want to hunt him down?” I ask. “You mentioned the other day you were tracking him and his men. That’s a pretty elaborate plan to carry out on your own. He must have done something pretty bad?”
“Jaco and I used to be friends,” he says through clenched teeth as I wipe one last piece of alcohol-soaked gauze over the wound.
He lets out a sigh of relief.
“Friends?” I encourage him.
“Yes, we were really close. I thought we were anyway. But over time, I realized that he wasn’t the type of friend who was happy for you when things went well. He’s more the jealous type.”
He pauses and takes a slow breath as I begin to bandage the wound. At least it’s not bleeding anymore.
Simon keeps talking.
“I’d never had a real girlfriend before.
I was friends with Jaco when I got my first genuine relationship.
I feel pretty hard for the girl. I mean, I’d never been in love before.
I thought this was it. I thought we’d get married and have a life together.
But Jaco got jealous. Long story short, he seduced her.
They ended up going behind my back, and at the same damn time, he screwed me out of a big business deal we had been working on together for a long time. ”
“Fuck,” I mutter, horrified that someone who calls themself a friend would do that to another person. “I’m so sorry.”
“Usually, I don’t give a shit about competition.
I know my worth. I don’t exactly have self-confidence issues.
But this was just below the belt, and it was the two people who I thought were closest to me in the world.
My best friend and the girl I thought loved me.
It hit me a lot harder than I was prepared for. ”
“Did you argue with him?” I ask, looking up at Simon, who stares straight ahead, lost in memory.
“No, I walked away. I thought it was best. But it began to eat away at me. It began to fester inside me, and I couldn’t let it go.
What was worse was that even with the business deal, Jaco knew I couldn’t retaliate because his family is neutral and doing anything to him or them would cause massive issues for my family. ”
“So that’s why you’re sneaking around trying to make a one-man revenge plan?” I ask, understanding his pain and how hard it is to let go of things from your past when people hurt you.
“Yeah. I don’t want my family involved in my drama,” he sighs with relief as I finish taping the last bandage down.
“Good job,” he smiles, looking exhausted.
I stand up, still between his legs, and offer him my hand. “Come on, I’ll make you something to eat, and then you should probably get some rest,” I say.
He takes my hand and stands up, close to me, looking down at me with a grin.
“Alright, Nurse Blair,” he says with mischief in his tone that makes my cheeks flush pink.