Chapter Eleven Daniel
Chapter Eleven
Daniel
I could assume that the next morning for Jennifer and Mary seemed much better than the day before.
Right after they woke up, they got dressed and ate breakfast at our dining hall. Mary said it was the tastiest hot chocolate she had in a while.
And while our chef isn’t the best, I guess the little girl loved it. I mean, kids usually don’t have high demands. My nephew doesn’t, either. He eats up anything he gets.
Or perhaps it’s my love for the little kid which makes my chef cook their favorite food so often. I’d never threat our chef.
But if he ever cooks any food involving something that my nephew is allergic to, I’d murder him. I’d lie if I wouldn’t have threatened him with that before.
After breakfast, I showed both Jennifer and Mary their actual rooms they’ll be staying in for now. It’s not like their home, of course.
But I tried to make it as comfortable as possible for them, with the help I got from my sister, Victoria. We also picked up most of their things from their home, not including the furniture.
Only exception we made was Mary’s princess bed. It was too cute to resist. Sue me.
Besides, the look on Jennifer’s face when she discovered that all her clothes and important things were already in her room? Yeah, I won’t forget that.
I also won’t forget the look she gave me once she found out her underwear was in a drawer, too. I tried to explain myself, but then again, I didn’t find a good reason to excuse it.
I can’t have her live here without any of her underwear. What else was I supposed to do? Buy her new underwear? She would’ve probably thought that this move would’ve been weird, as well.
Can’t even get an apology right.
Except for I’m sorry, how else was I supposed to get your underwear here? there wasn’t much to say—though I did feel the urge to tell her we could go underwear shopping together.
I didn’t tell her that, of course. No matter how hot she is, I’m not going to mention shit which will make her feel uncomfortable with me.
I’m not that kind of man. I want her to trust me.
And for some fucked up reason, I want to test her limits and find out if she finds me as attractive as I do with her.
The way she looked at me yesterday when I pressed her against my desk and tried to push her boundaries, she seemed like she enjoyed my touch. I would’ve stopped immediately if she would’ve told me to.
But instead of telling me to stop, all she did was close her eyes for just a few seconds and lean into my touch.
I don’t know how to think of that. But what I do know is that I am not going to push her to do something she doesn’t want to. Especially while she was in such a vulnerable state.
After I showed Jennifer her room, I showed Mary the kids room she’d share with my nephew. He’s a lovely boy, just a year older than her.
I’ve seen Jennifer’s worried look, but once Mary and Enzo met, she realized that the boy absolutely adored her daughter.
And Mary? I didn’t even know a girl’s eyes could shine with that much happiness until I’ve seen her eyes when my nephew and her realized that they both have the same bluey stuffie. Fucking insane, and insanely sweet.
They had lots of fun together while they played with their toys, and the second Vicky came in to pick up her son and Mary for preschool, I decided to show Jennifer her workplace.
Mary will continue to go to the same place for preschool. I’d never force a kid to stay here, and besides, my nephew visits the same place. It’s only convenient for them to go there together.
And since my sister has been driving my nephew there for years now—after all, he’s her son—we decided it’d only be smart for her to drive Mary there as well.
And, to my surprise, Jennifer agreed. She genuinely meant it when she told me she thinks it’s a great idea. It surprised me.
"This is going to be your workplace," I explain as we walk into the medical room. She looks around.
“Workplace? You’re joking, right?”
“No. I allow you to stay with us. We keep you safe, and you make sure our men get help. You’re a nurse, aren’t you?”
She rolls her eyes, most likely confused as to why I’d want her to work for us.
"Doesn't seem like you have any other medical staff here," she mumbles.
I laugh. "Yeah, we don't. Not anymore."
"Well. What happened to your—"
"He died a while ago. But he was pretty old and sick as well; we expected it." She looks at me suspiciously, probably because she doesn’t believe me. But it’s the whole truth.
"Look. Our doctor was good, but, well... he used to serve my grandfather, at some point. I think that says enough about his age," I laugh before continuing.
"See, Jenny, it’s just that we haven’t had a doctor here for weeks.
And the amount of people who’ve gotten hurt?
You don’t even want to know. Seriously, I don’t know whose idea it was anymore, but putting some guys who work for the mafia in a medical room to try and work as a doctor?
While they’re not qualified? Bad idea. Very fucking bad. "
She rolls her eyes, shaking her head.
"You should’ve expected that. Did something bad happen after you lost the doctor? And why didn’t you get a new doctor before?" she asks, either not caring or simply ignoring the nickname, before taking a closer look at some of the medical equipment.
"Not much happened, no. Two guys hurt their legs, one broke his hand, and the other... Well, he got shot. But you know about that.” I sigh. “Besides, it’s not that easy to try and find a doctor who’s willing to work for a mafia. I thought that was obvious.”
I hear her take a deep breath. Fuck. Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned Roy. I look at her, noticing the way she’s slowly dissociating as she stares at the floor, her fingernails scratching at her hands. To get rid of blood which hasn’t been there for over twenty-four hours now.
I’ve seen it before on my men. But when seeing it, I thought it was normal. I went through it as well. For our workers, it’s nothing more than a normal side effect.
But seeing her do it? It fucking breaks my heart. And once again, I wish she wouldn’t have to be here.
Yet another selfish side of me tells me I want her to be here. She’s pretty. She’s nice. She’s everything I’d want in a woman. But I’m a fucking bastard for even thinking this way.
"Well, then, Daniel. Fine, I’ll work for you for a while, but I have some important conditions." Her tone tells me she isn’t joking. Not at all.
I smile weakly, ready to give her anything she asks for. "Tell me, pretty. What is it that you need?"
"First of all, you’re going to get me new medical equipment.
I mean, I get that the man was old, but this thing?
We’re living in 2025 now, Daniel. Not going with the times might be fun for some people—vintage is in again, after all.
But this? Seriously? It doesn’t surprise me that you can’t take care of patients properly. "
A simple nod is all it takes to satisfy her. "Alright, then. Tell me what you need, and I’ll make sure you get it. No big deal. I take my people’s health very seriously. Especially my worker’s health.”
I don’t know if she understands what I’m referring to, but she doesn’t say anything. She’s going to be a worker for me, as well. But I know I’m going to treat her better than anybody else. Just because she’s a woman, of course.
Before she continues staring at the tools, her eyes land on the big bookshelf on the wall. There are boxes filled with hundreds of medical records from our soldiers.
She pulls one of the files out of a box labeled Important and flips through it. Although I don’t think much of it, I sigh the second I realize whose file it is.
Of course, she’s going to want to investigate my file. How the fuck did she even find it that quickly?
"I don’t think you should look through that now. It’s not important. And none of your business.” I immediately speak up, but all I earn is a mocking laugh. “You want me to be your nurse and work for you, but you don’t allow me to look through my patient’s files? How’s that gonna work?”
I gulp when she looks up at me, her ocean blue eyes burning with fire as they pierce right through me.
When I finally find my composure to speak up, she continues to talk.
“I’m gonna write patient files for you in the future.
So I’m expecting you to allow me to look through old files, as well.
What if I miss somebody’s pre-existing conditions and something goes wrong because of—”
“Fine. Fine. Look through it. Do whatever you want with the files,” I sigh, “They’re all yours to search through.”
For some fucked up reason, the sneaky smile she gives me before she dives back into the file makes me want to spank her ass until she admits being this snappy with me is wrong.
Then again, I’m sex starved. Of course, I’m going to want to fuck the first woman I meet after months who’s not taken. Fuck this.
We both stand there in silence as she reads through a few pages, stopping at one specific page I know too well.
I’ve been obsessed with this page when I was younger.
I still can’t tell, why. I felt humiliated.
Weak. Stupid. Until I got better than anybody else and got declared boss.
Ever since then, I stopped giving any fucks about these old records.
"You got shot at age 18?" she asks, slowly looking up at me in disbelief. Or is it something else?
I can’t tell exactly which emotion is painted on her face, but it’s not a happy one. Perhaps a mixture of worry and frustration?
"I got trained from early on. Not a big deal," I explain. "People learn from their mistakes." Just like I did. This record was why I started to take my father’s training as serious as I’ve never did before.