Chapter 32
thirty-two
. . .
Dr. Carlo nodded once, his eyes steady behind the loupe as I guided the final sutures through the delicate weave of tissue that separated life from loss, his silent approval carrying more weight than any applause.
“Good work, Ishika,” he said, his voice muffled by the mask but clear enough to cut through the hum of the theatre. “He’s stable. Go get some rest.”
I stepped back from the table only when the monitor’s steady beep confirmed the rhythm had returned to normal, the sound a quiet victory after six hours of focused precision under his watchful guidance.
My hands trembled slightly as I peeled off the gloves, from the adrenaline draining out of my system, leaving behind a fatigue that settled deep in my bones.
The operating theatre lights hummed overhead, harsh and unyielding, mirroring the pressure behind my eyes.
Tossing the gloves into the medical waste can, I pushed through the double doors with Trixie following a few seconds later, the cool air of the corridor hitting my sweat-dampened scrubs like a welcome shock.
“I need a bed.” I said to her while we scrubbed down. Cupping my nape, I tilted my head from side to side, to work out the kinks in my neck and my legs felt ready to drop. The early morning run had been a tough one and it was only ten a.m.
“You’ve been at it since three this morning.” Trixie rubbed my arm, gently easing me in the direction of the doctor’s lounge. “Why don’t you go home, I’ll cover the rest of your shift.”
“Thanks, but I don’t have the energy to walk to the bus stop, leave alone board it without falling asleep before I reach home.”
“Go take a nap in the doctors lounge then, you need it.”
I entered the lounge, finding just one other doctor there, reading a magazine and I let out a long, low exhale. “Give me a break,” I grumbled under my breath, not in the mood for company, especially not her.
Guiselle was the queen of hospital gossip and had a knack of finding out everything about everyone.
Polite as always, I greeted her with a smile then walked over to the coffee station and poured myself a large one, forgoing milk and sugar this time round.
I took a sip of the bitter liquid, sighing. Heaven in a cup right now.
On the verge of sinking into the long sofa opposite her, Guiselle looked up. “Hey, Ishika, I heard you’re dating Remo Rossi. Is it true?”
“What?” The word flew from my mouth along with the remains of the coffee I’d just sipped. Irritated, I yanked a tissue out of the box the table and dabbed my mouth, thankful none of the liquid spilled on my scrubs.
“That mafia man’s hot, right. I’d give my eyeteeth for just one look from him.” She was a second-year resident, but her gushing was teenybopper level.
I rolled my eyes. “If you say so.”
Her excitement filled eyes roved over my face. “How did you two meet? How long are you dating him? Is he good in bed?” she asked eagerly as if we were roommates or something closer.
I glared at her, and she startled, her mouth popping wide open, her expression like she’d just seen a ghost. “Who started that rumor?” I frowned at her over the top response.
“I did.”
Alarmed, I swung around sharply, jostling coffee over the side of the cup and scowled at the man in question. With my back to the door, I hadn’t heard him come in and now understood the woman’s shocked response.
Just the mere sight of him and my pussy began to tingle.
No, not from arousal, more a reminder of my suffering.
“Why would you do that?” I wiped my hand stinging with coffee burn, annoyed not just with his assumption but the fact he’d literally violated me with that tattoo and quite clearly, there was nothing I could do about it.
He took a step forward bringing him to back of the sofa between us. “Because you’re mine, you just didn’t know it and now you do.” His gaze dropped down to the ‘v’ between my legs as if reminding me what he’d done.
“I’m not yours or anyone’s property,” I hissed, wishing to God I could wrack up the nerve to visit a tattoo pallor and ask them if they could do something to remove it.
Cool eyes roved over my face as he leaned closer, his next words a soft menace. “My name on your pussy says otherwise.” Embarrassment burned my cheeks before he tilted his head to look at the woman behind me. “Get lost.”
I turned, hoping to stop her. “Don’t—”
She shot up, cutting me off and with her head down, made a hasty departure. Remo came around the sofa, took the cup from my hand and set it down on the coffee table.
Surprisingly, I faced off, stupidly believing he wouldn’t intentionally hurt me. “What do you want from me?” I snapped.
He reached out, pushing a wayward strand of hair off my cheek.
I flinched. “Submission is boring, little fox, I love a woman with fight in her. And what can be more challenging than a daring one who not only slaps me, but she also throws a knife at me, reports me to the cops and mouths off in front of people. And let’s not forget just how well you suck my cock. ”
“If only they’d locked you up,” I said sweetly.
His chuckle was eerily disturbing, almost sadistic and when he stepped closer, I took one back. Eyes locked with mine, he took another and I did the same. Our dance came to an end when my back hit the floor to ceiling window behind me.
“You violated me.” Again, my skin there tingled.
Palms planted on either side of my head, he leaned closer, his potent scent flooding my senses. “I disciplined you.”
I kept my breath steady, not ready to show him just how unsettled I was. “You wronged me, why should I be disciplined?”
“I wronged you?” he asked lazily, exasperating me even more. “I just gave you what you didn’t know you needed.” He pressed his body into mine. “A taste of my cock.”
I tried shoving him away, my fingers meeting nothing but solid muscle beneath his dark shirt. “Even if I needed cock, I’d take any other–”
He gripped my hips savagely and swung me around, shoving my chest to the window.
The air whooshed out of my lungs in a harsh grunt.
“Your pussy belongs to my cock, little fox and he’s just as fucked up as his owner, there’s no telling what they’ll do if another man so much as smells your panties.
” I shuddered. “Mention another man again and I’ll punish the fuck out of you, this time though, you’ll fucking enjoy it, begging me for more,” he growled, low and menacing.
Exasperation kicked me in the stomach. Using the glass as leverage, I pushed back. Hands on my hips, he shoved a knee between my legs and pressed his chest to my rear, keeping me in place, his strength subduing my attempts.
I stared out the window. Even though it overlooked a garden, anyone looking out of a window of the north wing situated at a ninety-degree angle to where we stood, would see exactly what this man was doing to me.
Part of me hoped they’d report it if they did, the other part scoffed.
No one would touch Remo Rossi, a painful lesson I was beginning to grasp.
“Let me go,” I grumbled.
I felt his face in my hair and heard him inhale. “No.”
The hushed tone coated in a sexy rasp sent a shiver up my spine before he dragged his right hand up my body, leaving a burning trail in its wake. Breathing uneven, I shoved backward, wriggling to get out of his hold until his hand closed around my neck, his grip tight.
“You feel that?”
I froze, feeling his stiff length press into my ass and bit back the moan threatening to escape me as his hand tightened a little more.
He tipped his hips forward, and I hated that rush of heat through my body, hated the intense wetness between legs, hated that I was somehow turned on by this evil man.
Mortified, I struggled against his hold.
“That’s what your struggling does to me.” He did it again, pressing harder. “Fight me. I want to feel you squirm.”
I held myself rigid instead. “Go fuck yourself,” I mouthed off, despite the hammering of my heart against my ribs.
“Such bravery for someone who’s about to feel my cock in her ass. I’m sure it will be tight fit.”
I swallowed repeatedly, trying to dislodge that sudden fear in my throat and forced myself to calm down. “What do you want from me?”
“To see your pussy.”
“What?” A nervous laugh slipped out.
“I want to see my mark on you.”
“No.”
I heard him breathe in deeply. “I’m not a good man, little fox. I never ask for consent, I take. So let me in or I’ll rip off your clothes, fuck you against this glass and I don’t care who the fuck watches us.”
“You wouldn’t.” Annoyance filled desperation coated my words.
“Try me,” he taunted.
My sigh heavy, I relaxed my body, allowing him to turn me around. Hands clenched at my sides, I kept my gaze riveted on his chest.
“Show me,” he ordered.
Nostrils flared, I bit my lower lip and clenched my fists.
He stepped back, crossed his arms over his chest and watched me.
Taking a deep breath, I gripped the hem of my top and lifted while I hooked my other thumb into the waistband of my pants and panty and pushed down, baring my mound to those evil eyes.
Heat stained my cheeks and I kept my eyes pinned to his chest, not wanting to witness the triumph I’d no doubt find on that ugly face.
Yeah right.
“Beautiful,” the single word was a whispered compliment, more lover than monster.
I ground my teeth to prevent retaliating with exactly what I thought of his handiwork. When he crouched in front of me, I jumped, letting go of the pants, the soft elastic snapping against my skin.
He looked up, his glare warning me not to defy him.
Rolling my eyes, I slid my pants back down.
He moved closer and I stilled, feeling his warm breath on my skin.
To anyone watching, this scene would appear intimate, sexy, a man going down on his woman, to me though, I wanted to jab my knee into his face until it hurt.