Chapter 37 #2
Our bodies are still connected, moving in a slow, sensual rhythm beneath the spray of water as our breathing returns to normal. But reality quickly seeps back in, ending our time together.
We’re getting dressed in his bedroom when his phone buzzes. He glances at it. “She’s here.” Pulling on a T-shirt, he watches me do the same. He’s given me one of his white T-shirts until I can get back to my apartment for clothes. “Stay here. I’ll bring Dr. Sam in to check you over. Be right back.”
While I wait, I make the bed and find the remote for the blackout curtains.
They slide smoothly open, revealing sliding doors and a balcony.
I open the door, step out onto the balcony, and stare out at the early morning sun sparkling over Tampa Bay.
It’s already hot, but the warmth soaking into my bones feels good after being in the air-conditioned room with wet hair.
Blue skies, blue water, steel and glass buildings gleaming in the sunshine. What a view. My muscles begin to relax.
“Lennon?”
Warmth floods my body like melted honey at the sound of my name on Sandro’s lips. I am so screwed. With a sigh, I turn and step back into the bedroom.
He’s walking toward me with a stunning, petite woman behind him. She’s wearing a yellow sundress, which showcases her shapely tan legs. Her long, silky, raven hair is pulled up in a ponytail, and she’s carrying a leather bag.
This is his doctor? She looks like she’s in her early thirties, and shouldn’t she be wearing something more appropriate for a house call?
My stomach clutches with jealousy as I reach out and take the hand she’s offering.
Her skin is soft but her handshake is firm. Her smile is radiant and friendly while her whiskey-colored eyes sweep over me in a quick cataloging motion. “Dr. Samatha Dal.”
“Lennon,” I say, glancing over at Sandro.
“Nice to meet you.” There’s an amused gleam in her eyes as she gives Sandro her attention. “Would you like to give us some privacy?”
“I’m staying,” he barks. Then looks at me sheepishly. I raise an eyebrow. “That is, if you don’t mind?”
“It’s fine.” It’s not like I’m going to hide anything from him.
She motions to the two leather recliners in the corner. “Have a seat.”
When I oblige, she moves with grace and efficiency, wrapping a blood pressure cuff around my arm, and sliding an oxygen sensor on my finger. “Sandro tells me you were in a car accident,” she says softly, her eyes meeting mine as she manually inflates the cuff. “Where do you hurt?”
I reach up and touch my nose. “I’m still sore from the airbag hitting my face. Sore all over, really. But I don’t think I have any serious injuries.”
She removes the blood pressure cuff and then the oxygen sensor after she checks it.
“One twenty over seventy-two. Good.” Her warm fingers grasp my chin as she turns her attention to my face.
“You do have some bruising along the nasal bone.” She palpates along my cheekbones and nose gently.
“I don’t think anything is broken though. ”
I glance at Sandro, who is pacing behind her. “Um. They also gave me something that knocked me out. They injected it.”
Her expression stills and then softens. “I see. It was most likely Rohypnol or Ketamine. Time and drinking plenty of water today will flush either from your system.” She glances back at Sandro and then lowers her voice. “Do you want me to do a rape kit?”
I see Sandro stop pacing out of the corner of my eye. I quickly answer her. “No, that’s not necessary.”
The doctor and I both glance at Sandro as a loud exhale of breath escapes him. He walks over and collapses on the edge of the bed with his head between his hands.
I lean closer to the doctor. “Rocco told me Sandro left the hospital with a concussion. Can you make sure he’s okay?”
She cocks her head and stares at me, and I feel like she’s seeing too much. Her mouth quirks up on one corner. “You really care about him, don’t you?”
With that one question, my jealousy fades, and I feel like I have an ally. I nod. “We have a complicated history.”
She squeezes my hand. “I’ve heard. I’m sorry.” Irritation flashes in her eyes. “He deserves better than a forced marriage to Giada fucking Zerilli.”
My stomach clenches at the mention of Giada’s name. I had almost forgotten about their marriage. Almost got lost in the fantasy that we could be together. The grief of what we could’ve had hits me in the chest, and I suddenly can’t breathe.
I jump up. “I’d like to go home now.” I grab my clothes and rush into the bathroom to change. I have to get out of here before I fall apart in front of Sandro and Dr. Sam.
When I come out, I’ve got myself under control but the bedroom is empty.
I find them talking in the living room. Both of them have their arms folded and heads bowed.
I grab my purse from the sofa and dig out my phone. “I can call an Uber. You don’t have to drive me.” My hands are shaking as I glance up at Sandro. He isn’t even trying to hide the devastation in his eyes, which makes the burn in my chest worse.
His voice is hoarse and low as he says, “I’m driving you.”
Just then Killian comes down the hall, pulling on the black T-shirt he wore last night, his cropped white-blond hair damp from a shower.
“Morning…” he calls, and then stops in his tracks when his gaze catches on Dr. Sam.
It’s only a hitch in his step but as I glance at her, her expression shifts to amusement. She noticed it too.
He finishes pulling down his shirt and stalks toward them with a growing smile. Ignoring Sandro, he extends a hand to Dr. Sam. “Killian Donnelly. And you are?”
She slips her hand into his and heat flares in her eyes as she holds his gaze. “Dr. Samatha Dal.”
Killian’s smile fades and his body stiffens. “A doctor.”
She shifts on her sandaled feet and cocks a shapely hip. “You got a problem with doctors, Irish?”
He forces a smile as his expression tightens. “Not all doctors.”
“Okay.” With a frown, she turns to me. “Lennon, it was nice to meet you. I hope we meet again under different circumstances.” Then to Sandro.
“I don’t have to tell you how stupid it is to leave a hospital with a concussion.
Limit screen time, rest, hydrate, avoid alcohol, and for god’s sake no physical activity for a few weeks.
Call me if your symptoms get worse instead of better.
” With one last puzzled glance at Killian, she swivels and heads to the elevator.
Killian’s gaze follows her from her swinging ponytail to her swaying hips. His arms are crossed, biceps tense and bulging, and his green eyes narrowed. A strange expression crosses his face, like he’s watching her against his will.
Sandro smirks at him.
Killian finally shakes his head when the elevator door closes behind Dr. Sam, like he’s coming out of a trance. “A bit of a fine thing for a doctor,” he mumbles.
Sandro pats him on the back. “If you’re thinking about making a move, I’ll save you the trouble. She doesn’t date. At all.” Then he turns to me. “Ready?”
Killian huffs, clearly irritated. “She’s not my type.” Then he glances at me. “I’m going with you, Lennon. We’ve got a lot to discuss.”
I nod. I have a ton of questions myself.
We’re riding the elevator down, and Sandro is explaining to Killian who Milo is, when the door slides open, and all hell breaks loose.