Chapter Eleven Daniel #2
"They might learn. But you could’ve died. Just like…" She stops talking before she says it, but I know she’s talking about Roy. Her hands tremble as she closes the folder. Without another word, she puts it back onto the bookshelf. I’m glad she didn’t look deeper into it.
The number of wounds and fights I got into before I finally truly realized I had to get better… Let’s just say, it’s a lot. And I fucking hate myself for it.
Besides, it’s not that I’m proud of it. But hey, I’m still very much alive, and many people fear me. I could not feel better.
Except for the situation with Yuri’s men. I still haven’t talked to him about Roy’s death. I wonder if he has seen my mail and decided to ignore me, or if he simply hasn’t seen it yet. Regardless, I asked him to call me asap. And he fucking didn’t. But well.
I’ll manage whatever comes my way. And if it starts a family war, then fuck it. I’ll win anyway.
"Anything else you want to know before you start working for me?" My question hangs in the air for a while as she looks at the boxes of bandages.
"Of course..." she grumbles. "These bandages are the worst. They rip off fast, they don’t even work well, and—"
"We’ll replace them with bandages of your choice," I answer immediately.
A satisfied smile appears on her lips as she turns to see me. "Great, thanks, Daniel.”
It’s so easy to satisfy her. For now, at least. Money isn’t a huge deal for us. And if she needs the equipment, she’ll get it. My people’s health is important to me, anyway. And if it’s all she’s asking for, then fuck, so be it. I’ll get her anything she desires.
However, if she asks me to let her go… That, we can’t manage so well. I doubt she will. Her job here pays her so much more, and the working hours are much more relaxing. More breaks. More time to spend with her daughter. She’s closer to Loyola beach.
I doubt she’s gonna want to leave. I won’t give her any reason to.
As soon as I know I can trust her, I’m going to let her start leaving the mansion.
Even alone. And as soon as she signs an NDA and we both have a perfect trusting bond, fuck it, she can go as soon as she pleases.
But just… Not now. Not yet. We’re gonna have to wait until things calm down. Until she calms down, more precisely.
"I’m sure you’ll be a great doctor," I praise her. She simply giggles. My body relaxes at the sound for some reason. She’s loosening up in my presence, and it’s the most satisfying thing I’ve felt in a while now.
"First of all, I’m a nurse. I’m not a doctor. I didn’t really have the resources to study enough for that.”
"That doesn’t matter to me. Yesterday, you seemed like you did a good job. It seemed like you were very experienced."
Her smile slowly fades. "If you think so. Thanks?" It’s not appreciation. It’s a question.
I sigh. God, I have to stop mentioning it… But it’s stuck in my head. I really should call Yuri. We have to talk about this shit.
Although I don’t intend to, I decide to walk up to her and simply pull her into a gentle hug, my arms wrapped around her warm body.
I hate myself for thinking about it, but when my hands slide down her curves, all I can think about is how I want to touch her, appreciate her, treat her like a goddess.
It’s the first time I’ve touched any woman in months. And it’s also the first time we’re doing more than just holding hands, and it’s fucking beautiful. I wish I could hold her like this forever. Just us. No pain, no whatever the fuck happened yesterday morning—just gentle, soft touches.
Holding her against me, slowly patting her head while she sighs exhaustively into my chest feels so heavenly. I’ve done this before with my sister. The hugging thing.
But this hugging thing between us? Fuck, it’s so much more.
I hate myself for the fact that my hands stay on her waist, letting her breathe into my chest. It feels like heaven.
As if I don’t ever want to let her go. I want to make her mine.
Protect her and comfort her whenever she needs it. Fuck, what the hell is wrong with me?
I don’t know what this woman is doing to me, but after only a day of knowing her, the urge to hold her and comfort her simply overtook me.
And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel anything when my hands slid down her waist, admiring her curves. She’s like sin, yet she feels like heaven.
"You did your best," I coo. "It wasn’t your fault, alright? I need you to remember this, always. None of what happened was your fault. You did so well, okay? I’m so proud of you, pretty.”
She nods against my chest slowly, just seconds before I hear a faint sob, followed by the hot tears soaking my shirt. I don’t mind it, though. It really doesn’t bother me at all. She needs this. I know she does. And I’ll gladly give it to her.
These past few years, I haven’t been used to giving somebody love.
But this woman? She’s so fucking strong. And all I want to do is give her strength when she finally runs out of it—like now. Ever since the second Roy’s heart stopped beating, she’s been terrified.
And I wouldn’t do anything rather than giving her the love and strength she deserves. In any way, in every way. Wherever and whenever she needs it.
I close my eyes as I continue rubbing her back, doing my best to comfort her.
She didn’t deserve this. Seeing us, trying to save him, and failing.
And what makes it even worse, having to stay here.
It’s fucking unfair, I know. But life is usually never fair.
It hasn’t been to me, either. I just wish I could turn back time and do it better.
I swear I’m doing my best to make her life better. What happened last morning was a tragedy I couldn’t prevent, but what’s happening in the future is something I can control. And whatever she endures, I want it to be filled with laughter, happiness, and family moments. Moments with her daughter.
The files I’ve seen from her old workplace were fucking terrible. She kept being overworked. But now? I know this situation isn’t perfect, but I’ll make it the best that’s possible.
And most importantly, I’ll keep her safe. She’ll always be safe with me.
"You did such a good job, my pretty girl. I was so proud of you. I still am. Okay, hm?"
She looks up at me, a tear slowly falling down her cheek. "Daniel… he died. You saw it. I wanted to help him so bad, but—"
"Everybody has to die eventually," I reply. Her next words fucking break my heart. "But I was supposed to save him. I always save people. Why couldn’t I do it for him?" I think about her words for a few seconds. She’s right, in some way. It’s fucked up. Harsh, really. Because none of this was her fault. If it was anybody’s fault, it was mine.
I should’ve stopped Roy from letting us split up. I should’ve told him it was a bad idea. But even then, they could’ve shot him. What’s been fucking with my mind even more was the fact that I was the one denying her from calling an ambulance.
If I would’ve done like she told me, she wouldn’t blame herself. But as much as I would’ve liked doing that, I couldn’t. The police would’ve blamed us. Again. And I can’t let all of this happen to my family again.
"Yes, you were supposed to save him," I agree. "But you can’t save someone if death has already got his grip on them."
She scoffs. "That sounds absolutely awful, Daniel."
"But it’s the truth, isn’t it?"
I continue holding her while she stares into my eyes. Her blue eyes are so beautiful. Fuck, I have to stop thinking of her like that.
"Yeah, you’re right… Maybe it is terrible because we know we can’t deny the truth."
Her words hit me. Fucking hard, at that. I simply nod before I let go of her. Because if this woman keeps talking to me, fuck, I’ll do something I’m going to regret afterwards.
Comforting her is one thing. Being this close to her as we start some type of deep talk is another. Shit.
"You’re right about that," I laugh to hide my nervousness—something I didn’t do in years.
I pause, unsure whether I should bring it up now or later, but I can’t let it go regardless.
"See, I’ve hired a professional therapist to help with everything my soldier’s go through.
.. you know, after everything you have been through, you might want to talk to somebody.
It’s all strictly confidential. You don’t have to tell me how you feel.
Just… Please, if you’re not doing well, talk to someone, okay? I want you to be okay.”
Her gaze sharpens just slightly, but she nods, trying to mask the concern. “I’m fine, promise,” she says softly, but I can see the weight in her eyes.
I want to push more, ask if she can really get through this without a professional, but I don’t.
I know better than to push someone further when they don’t want to talk. Especially if they’re this stressed out already.
“That’s okay. Whenever you feel like you need someone to talk to, though, just let me know, okay?”
“I will if it’s needed, but I swear I’m fine,” she promises, though the hesitance still lingers. I want to believe her. But I’ve seen this before. The "I’m fine" that means anything but.
I nod, knowing it’s not my place to force her into anything. It’d only result in her trusting me less than she does right now. And that’s the last thing I want. “Take your time. I’m here when you’re ready, pretty. Always.”