Chapter 12
Stefan
“C hrist,” I said as Francesca peeled herself away from me. It literally felt like she had ripped half of me away. “What time is it?” I opened my eyes in the still deep darkness that surrounded us. Francesca was walking toward the bathroom.
“Shh, go back to sleep. It's early,” she whispered and continued on her way.
I figured she'd be back in a minute or two until I heard the shower on. The light shone out under the door, illuminating her shitty apartment a bit better.
Christ.
She deserved so much better than this.
And that was exactly what she was going to get. I was going to give Francesca the fucking world. Everything she wanted. And if that included going to school to get her nursing degree, then so be it. Who was I to judge someone else's passion in life?
Deep down, though, my hope was that she'd grow to love being a kept woman.
A kept wife.
My wife.
I'd keep her belly full of my babies. Planting a new one inside of her as soon as the last one emerged.
My cock hardened at that thought.
Francesca's big belly. Carrying my baby.
Fuck.
She'd look beautiful.
The water stopped, and I heard her rummaging around in the bathroom.
Five minutes later, she opened the door and headed straight for the small set of shitty drawers across from the bed. The light from the bathroom brightened the room somewhat.
“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice still groggy and filled with sleep.
“Go back to sleep. They called me in. Someone left sick. So I'll cover the rest of his shift before mine starts.” She pulled on her bra and panties and then her scrubs. It was a damn crying shame to cover up a body like that. Francesca was a fucking masterpiece.
“Christ, woman. When do you get a day off?” I asked, sounding astonishingly whiny to my ears. But I didn't care. I wanted her to stay home. With me.
Not go back to that shithole and deal with a bunch of disgusting, smelly, sick humans. My stomach churned just thinking about going to the hospital again. But it was something she looked forward to for some reason.
Francesca laughed as she sat down on the bed to pull her socks on. “There are no days off, Stefan. At least I hope there aren't.”
I frowned and asked, “What do you mean? You haven't had one day off since I got here. You must be due by now.”
She laughed again and stood. “How many days did I get off when you were in the hospital?” She hurried toward the kitchen.
I thought back. I wasn't completely coherent every day I was there, but from what I could remember, she was always there. “None?”
She opened the fridge. “Bingo,” was all she said before pulling shit out and closing the door. Then she started scooping food into a stupid empty margarine container.
“Why? They must owe you a ton of days off by now.” I scratched my head, and a sharp pain ran through me. My body felt like I'd run a goddamn marathon or something. A sudden flash of Francesca's naked body over top of me burst into my brain. And I grinned to myself.
Fuck.
That woman had come completely unglued as she rubbed her hot, wet pussy all over my hard cock.
Speaking of my cock—it just jumped, wanting her to come back over here and do the same thing she'd done last night.
“I don't get paid if I don't work. Overtime isn't much, but it's more. So, I take whatever extra shifts I can pick up,” she said like that was the most normal thing in the world—to work yourself to the bone every day without a break.
“You're going to kill yourself. You can't work every fuckin' day, Chesca. That's not good for you.”
She laughed and opened the bread that she'd brought home. “Yes, but paying rent and buying gas for my crappy car—is—good for me. Very good for me.” She pushed down the lever on the toaster and it lit up in the semi-darkness.
“How much is rent?” I asked, determined to pay it for her. Not that it would matter. As soon as I could walk down those steps outside, I was taking her to my place and forever removing Francesca from this horrible excuse for an apartment.
“It's enough that I have to work every day.”
Her answer pissed me off. I felt my anger boil down deep in my chest. Someone like her shouldn't have to work every goddamn day to pay rent. “I asked you how much rent was, Francesca. And I expect an answer.”
Her head turned to me, and she laughed.
Right in my fucking face.
My brain almost exploded from her defiance. Honest to fuck—if I didn't have a gaping wound in my chest, I'd walk over there, sling her over my shoulder and spank that perfect heart-shaped ass until she told me what I wanted to know.
“I'm not telling you.”
Jesus Christ.
This woman.
I didn't need the blood pressure monitor hooked up to me to know it had spiked.
“Since you won't go back to sleep, do you want toast before I leave?” she asked. I could hear her buttering the toast she'd just dropped on a plate.
“I'll eat later,” I mumbled, feeling more than dejected. I couldn't believe how fragrantly Francesca disregarded my questions. I had a strong feeling it was going to take a long time to rid her of this behavior. But a very large part of me was looking forward to training her.
My way.
Once my goddamn chest didn't feel like it was on fucking fire.
I heard her bite into her toast. It wasn't even dawn outside yet and she was eating. Last night she'd eaten twice what I did. And then she ate most of the microwave popcorn. And now—she was eating again.
My heart sank, now knowing full well that she had been hungry those days when all she had in the cupboard was one box of tasteless cereal and a few packs of stolen sugar.
Fuck, that bothered the shit out of me. Knowing she'd suffered and gone hungry just so I had enough to eat.
Fuck.
That could never happen again.
And I'd see to it.
She finished eating her toast and packing up her lunch.
Then she brought me a fresh glass of water and set it on the crate beside the bed.
“Drink, okay? It'll help you get better.” What she did next surprised the fuck out of me.
She leaned over and kissed me and said, “Thanks for last night, honey. It was fun.” She giggled in the most tantalizing way.
My cock pulsed underneath the sheets, wanting to start something up with her.
My hands cupped her face. “You did most of the work.” I gently touched my lips to hers, giving her a sweet but memorable kiss. It was all I could give her before she started her hellish workday. I fucking hated feeling this powerless to save her from this shitty life.
She straightened up, grabbed her bag as she slipped on her shoes, and then rushed right out.
Leaving me alone.
Again.