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"I give my all to every patient, but I’ve never rooted for someone’s recovery as much as I did for yours. What happened to you was a nightmare, Miss Foster. My mom and I prayed for you and your babies every night. I truly hope that from now on, God blesses you with a good life."
"Thank you, Paul. I have a lot of faith and believe that everything in life happens for a reason. Maybe I had to go through this ordeal. I’ll be fine."
"Oh, you will be," says Miss Inara, entering the room. "Make sure you live a good life, Brooklyn, and don’t forget to visit me. I’ll miss you." She comes closer and hugs me, sniffing.
"I’ll miss you too."
"God, I hate goodbyes," she says.
"This isn’t a goodbye, really. My stepmother’s house is here in Manhattan. I’ll come see you."
"I hope so. I’ll be waiting anxiously."
"Ready?" comes the voice of the man who, against my will, still makes my heart race.
When the three of us turn around, Athanasios is standing in the doorway.
Both Miss Inara and Paul quickly leave, waving goodbye again.
"Yes. I’m waiting for my sister and Zeus."
"I’ll take you."
"What?"
"I’m discharging you, Brooklyn. From now on, you’re no longer my patient. I’ll still monitor your case, but I’ve assigned my best neurologist to take over."
My heart races like crazy. "Why did you do that?"
"I told you I’d come after you. It’s time."
"You can’t be serious. I’m a mess. You could have any woman you want."
"Yes, I could. But I want you." He steps closer, and I shiver. "Are you scared? Just tell me there’s nothing between us, that it’s all in my head, and I’ll leave you alone."
"I’m not afraid of anything," I reply, completely avoiding the question.
I should tell him to stop, like I was advised, but what if I never feel this thrill in my stomach again?
The corner of his mouth lifts at my response, and I’m mortified because I think he can see the dilemma written all over my face.
But he doesn’t use it against me.
"Come on. Your family must be eager to see you."
Brooklyn
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
"Doyou have plans for what you'll do after you fully recover?" he asks while driving through the streets of Manhattan.
Athanasios insisted on pushing my wheelchair all the way to his car. From what I could tell, the garage where it was parked is part of a private area, which confirms what Madison told me—that he owns the hospital.
I was surprised. I don’t know why, but I imagined he’d have a driver at his disposal. From the little I’ve observed, he doesn’t strike me as the type who’d have the patience to deal with Manhattan traffic. When I pointed this out, Athanasios said that, yes, he usually uses a chauffeur, but today he wanted to drive himself. He didn’t offer further explanation, but I understood that he wanted to be alone with me.
I’ve never been the target of something like this—a deliberate, relentless pursuit. Sure, I’ve been flirted with, but never with this kind of determination.
I glance at his profile as he drives. He’s breathtakingly handsome, almost unfairly so. Why, of all people, did this man become obsessed with me?