Page 21 of Brutal Heir (Ruthless Heirs #3)

A CELTIC GODDESS

A lessandro

Fuck, I’ve never seen Rory like this, so panicked, so vulnerable.

It’s scaring the shit out of me. My heart slams against my ribs, my hands twitching at my sides, desperate to comfort her like she’s been doing for me for over a week now.

Dio , it’s only been a week? It seems like she’s been a part of me forever.

I slide across the backseat of the car, wrapping my hands around her shoulders to steady her.

The tremor still hasn’t subsided. Whatever, or whoever, she saw back there frightened her so badly she’s still shaking.

My fiery, tough, sharp-tongued Rory.

Who the fuck could bring her to her knees like this? Worse, what the hell did they do to her to elicit this sort of response?

A second ago, she was my anchor, helping me through one of the toughest physical therapy sessions I’ve been through since the explosion, and now, she looks like she’s a second away from breaking.

“Rory, I’m right here.” My hand slides up her shoulder and cradles her cheek. “You’re safe here with me. I’m not going anywhere.” That is, until I find the piece of shit who hurt her and then no one will be safe from my wrath.

“Alessandro...” My name on her lips in that quiet whimper breaks something inside me. Just when I was certain there was nothing left whole, this woman’s presence in my life has stitched together the jagged pieces I thought I'd lost for good.

And someone hurt her.

“Listen, little leprechaun,” I whisper, running my thumb along her cheek, and her wild eyes finally lift to mine. “I’m trying my best to hold my shit together, but if you don’t tell me who did this to you, I’m going to lose it.”

The corner of her lip twitches, but she doesn’t quite smile. At least the trembling has stopped. Her eyes remain glued to mine, the tempest of emotions simmering beneath the surface excruciating.

“Please, tell me.”

“I—I can’t…” That fear resurfaces in her gaze, and red-hot fury races through my veins.

It takes every ounce of restraint to keep my voice level, clenching my fist at my side. “But you saw someone who frightened you?”

Her head slowly dips, jaw clenching beneath my palm.

It had to be that blonde guy that she bumped into as we were walking out. She was fine before that.

“Why won’t you tell me? I can help—” I’ll have every Gemini scouring the streets to find the asshole who hurt her. Then I’d make him pay.

“I don’t want to relive the hell again,” she forces out. “Please, Alessandro, just let it go.” Her eyes flash, and a hint of that fiery redhead returns.

And relief floods my system. Anger I can handle. I know it well.

She straightens, pushing her shoulders back, and my hand slips off her face. The moment of vulnerability is gone, her tough, sarcastic mask back in place. Clearing my throat, I sit back in my seat and call out to the front of the car, “Let’s go, Sammy.”

“You still want to go to the Velvet Vault, boss?” he asks without turning his head. The man has worked for me long enough to know when to make himself invisible.

“Yes, I need to speak with the staff before opening.”

“Will do.”

Sammy pulls out into the typical traffic of Park Avenue, and I hazard a glance at Rory from the corner of my eye.

She’s still pressed against the door, but at least she’s not curled up or trembling.

Her gaze remains focused out the window, but her eyes have glossed over as if she’s gone to another time or place.

Yanking out my phone, I type out a quick message to Matteo.

My cousin is a tech whiz and can hack just about anything.

I know for certain there’s a camera at the entrance of the building we’ve just left.

I’ve walked by it for weeks every time I come to physical therapy.

If anyone can find out who the guy was that spooked Rory, it’ll be Matteo.

After I give him a rundown of the situation, I describe the blonde man who I assume frightened her. The only thing that stood out was that scar bisecting his left eyebrow. I hope it’s enough. My fingers fly across the keypad.

Me: It’s urgent.

Matty’s response is almost instantaneous.

Matteo: I’m on it, cuz. Anything for that cute little redhead.

Me: Don’t even…

Matteo: Oooh, someone is getting a little possessive. Is that naughty little nurse giving you more than just sponge baths?

Me: Stop.

Matteo: Wow, this sounds serious.

Me: Just get me the info, coglione .

Matteo: Fine. I’ll have the video to you by tomorrow at the latest. Also, you’re no fun anymore.

Me: Getting blown up will do that to you.

Matteo:

Sliding my phone back into my pocket, I try not to wince as I brush over some sensitive skin.

I’m in fitted slacks and a nice polo shirt since I’d planned on stopping by the Vault after therapy.

The sweat makes it stick to my ravaged skin and already I’m regretting not having taken a shower after the workout.

But the idea of bringing Rory into the changing room had me opting for sweatiness.

It's one thing getting a hard-on for your nurse in the privacy of your own home, but at a physical therapy center? That’s something else altogether.

The ride down to the Meatpacking District is an unusually quiet one. Getting Rory to stop talking is typically the biggest challenge. Today, she’s silent and withdrawn, clearly still affected by whatever the hell happened outside of that building.

Who was that guy?

The moment she bumped into him everything changed.

An ex, maybe?

Just the idea of another man’s hands on her has fury pummeling my veins. Shit, when did this happen? Matteo’s right. When did I get so possessive over my nurse?

She’s not just your nurse, coglione. Again, that voice echoes in the dark corners of my mind. And she sounds an awful lot like Serena.

Even if I wanted more, which I don’t, how could she ever want me? Not when I look like this…

She deserves better than a broken man with a violent legacy and a graveyard of secrets. But anytime those piercing eyes meet mine or worse, her arm brushes my own, that logic dies a quick, unceremonious death.

Disgusted with myself for even considering something so ludicrous, I’m relieved when the car slows, and the familiar velvet rope of the Vault comes into view.

Twisting my head to face Rory, I whisper, “You don’t have to come in if you don’t want to.

I can have Sammy drop you off at the penthouse and come back for me. ”

She peels herself from the leather seat and slides to the edge. “No, I’m coming with you.”

“Relax, Red, it’s not like I’m going to have a bandage emergency while I’m in there.” I eye her green scrubs and that crazy little leprechaun shooting me the middle finger. As much as I enjoy her company, I’d rather not walk into my club with my nurse trailing behind me.

Her expression softens, as if she’s read my innermost thoughts, then she reaches for my duffle bag.

“What are you doing?” It’s bad enough she has to bathe me, now she’s going through my sweaty laundry?

“I brought a change of clothes too.” She shrugs like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like she hadn’t been scared shitless only a second ago.

She knew I’d be embarrassed…

The hint of a smile threatens but before it smothers my face, she twirls her finger in the air, motioning for me to turn around.

I don’t move, too entranced by this woman.

She was a trembling, quivering mess and now, only minutes later, she’s managed the wherewithal to change out of her scrubs just for me.

Her fingers fumble with the zipper of her bag, movements just a shade too rushed. She smiles, but it’s a half-second late, like she’s still catching up to herself.

“Well, come on then, McFecker, turn around so I can change.” Her voice is back to normal, but a hint of the darkness still lingers. She hides it well, though.

I need to fix this somehow. Or at least distract her. “You know, it’s hardly fair. You get to see me naked all the time, and I get nothing.”

She grins, a real smile that reaches her eyes and lights them up like the first glint of sunrise on a frost-covered morning. It’s unexpected, breathtaking, and impossible to look away from.

“As soon as you get your nursing degree, you can see me naked all you want, Rossi.”

A whisper of heat kindles low beneath my slacks. “Is that a promise?” I toss her a smirk. “Because I find myself with a lot of time on my hands lately. How hard could it be to get an online nursing degree?”

Shaking her head, she attempts a scowl but with the corners of her lips kicking up, she looks all the naughty little nurse Matteo described.

“Just turn around so I can get dressed already.” Her hands curl around the hem of her top, and I stare like a starving man as she pulls it up over her head, exposing a sports bra and perfect porcelain skin covered in a smattering of freckles.

Before I can stare for too long, her shirt falls over my head, and I’m cut off from that enticing view.

But her scent…

It’s suddenly everywhere, the citrus and spice invading my nostrils and seeping into every pore. I inhale deeply, taking in her fragrance like an addict.

“Okay, all set.” Her voice leeches through the haze of her natural perfume an instant before she grabs the shirt off my head and light streams back in. I blink rapidly until my pupils adjust and focus on Rory in a curve-hugging sweater dress.

Dio …

Since she started working for me, I’ve never seen her in anything so form fitting. She runs around the apartment in scrubs most of the day, and I try to avoid her at all costs once she’s slipped into her sleeping attire since it’s a scandalous array of short shorts and skimpy translucent tops.

“What, cat got your tongue, Rossi? Why are you staring?” Her light brow quirks as she regards me. And for a second all that darkness vanishes.

Cazzo , am I drooling? “Nothing… you look nice, that’s all.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.” She grins again before curling her hand around the door handle.

Then I see it for what it is. A mask. Just like the one I often wear. What are you hiding, Red? What did that asshole do to you?

Sammy is already outside, drawing my attention back to the present. He stands at the door, waiting to offer her a hand. He helps us both out before rounding the car and returning to the driver’s seat. “Just let me know when you’re ready.”

“Thanks, Sammy,” we call back in nearly perfect unison.

Then she offers her arm, and there’s not a flicker of pity or the fear from minutes ago in those blazing eyes, only pride and defiance.

And in that moment, she doesn’t look like the nurse assigned to mend my broken body.

She looks like the woman I’d fight a mob war for.

So I take her arm, not out of need, but choice, and stride into my club beside her.

And for an instant, I’m not her patient, or the ghost of the man I used to be.

I feel like a king, reclaiming his throne with fire in his blood and a Celtic goddess at his side.