Page 18 of Brutal Heir

“I don’t know about that. I had an Irish girl once…”

Positioning myself between my feisty new nurse and my annoyingly flirtatious cousin, I tick my head toward the living room where the chess table stands in the corner. “Are you here to talk or play, cuz?”

“Well, actually,” Rory interrupts, “I was just about to?—”

“No,” I snarl, whirling around to face her. “It can wait.”

Her narrowed gaze rakes over me, undoubtedly taking in the tension in my jaw and the pain that radiates across every inch of me. “Fine, if you prefer to suffer that’s your problem.” Then she jabs her petite finger into the left side of my chest, avoiding the bandaged section. “But you will let me do my job, Rossi. I won’t have you dying on my watch.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” I mutter.

Wrapping a hand around my good arm, she totes me a few feet down the hallway. She lowers her voice, rising to her tiptoes,and it’s the closest I’ve been to her yet. The smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks catches my attention, and now she’s close enough to count each and every one. I don’t, of course, because that would be insane.

Lifting my gaze to meet blazing emerald eyes, I’m pleasantly surprised by her discretion as she whispers, “I’m not being dramatic. Sepsis is real and life threatening. If the wounds aren’t kept clean, bacteria can form and enter the bloodstream.”

“I’m fine. I’ve been replacing the bandages on my own for nearly an entire week now.”

“We’ll see how fine you are when I get you naked in the tub.” Her jaw snaps shut, her cheeks flushing an enticing crimson at that slip of the tongue. And that look has a whisper of heat surging below my belt. Is that…? No, it can’t be. My stupid cock hasn’t shown the tiniest bit of interest in any woman in months. Clearly evidenced by that disaster with the server at Thanksgiving dinner. Taking a step back, she waves a dismissive hand. “You know what I mean.”

“Of course,” I mutter. “I would never expect anything but the highest level of professionalism from you.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.” She nods quickly before turning toward the kitchen. “While you boys are playing chess, I’ll get myself settled in the adjoining room.” Her eyes meet mine, full of defiance as she spills the last part. As if she’s daring me to contradict her.

It’s a battle for another day. Whether this woman stays in a room next to mine or across the entire damned penthouse, I doubt I’ll be able to avoid her. “Fine.”

“Good.” A smile flashes across those pretty pink lips, lighting up the flecks of sparkling jewels in her irises. “Now go sit down already. You look like you’re a second away from passing out.”

A rueful grin twists my lips as I hobble past her. Less than an hour together, and I’m impressed she can read me so well. Myown family has never even noticed the pain I hide behind the icy mask.

“So are we playing or what?” Matteo slaps me on the good shoulder when I reach him.

“Damn right. My week isn’t complete if I haven’t kicked your ass at chess.”

“That’s a lot of talk. I hope you can back it up.”

“Don’t I always?”

As we sit down at the table and arrange the pieces, I can pretend for a minute that everything is as it once was. That after I beat Matteo, we’ll go to a bar for a celebratory drink and the women will fall at our feet, desperate for a night with one of the Rossis, two of the most eligible bachelors in Manhattan.

But as I lift my arm to move a pawn, the bandage beneath my shirt snags tight against my skin, and I barely suppress a wince. No, booze and women are not in the cards for me tonight, not with the prescription pain meds I inhale like candy or my sad, broken cock.

“Your move, cuz.”

I glance up at Matteo, forcing my thoughts from the dismal truth and attempt to get my head in the game. “Right.” If I lose this, it’ll be one of the last things in my life that still brings me pleasure.

When I reach my bedroom, my feet dragging, I mutter a curse as my gaze lands on the red-headed devil lingering in the doorway of our adjoining rooms. She’s got her surgical gloves on, wearing a maniacal grin. “Bath time.” She says it like she’s actually excited about the prospect.

“Not again,” I grit out, and I’m tempted to send another scathing text message to Bella and Serena for siccing this woman on me.

Stomping toward me like she owns the place, like she ownsme, her fingers find the buttons of my shirt.

“I said no,” I shout as I leap back, instantly regretting the move as fiery pain lances across every frayed nerve in my body.

Those bejeweled eyes jump to mine, fiery determination setting them ablaze. “And I said yes.”

“You work for me, and I decide when I will or won’t be taking a bath. I’m a grown man for fuck’s sake.”

She clucks her tongue, shaking her head. “Mistake number one,signore. I work for yourfather, and it’s my duty to make sure you don’t rot in your own ego and your own filth.”