Page 27 of Brutal Heir

“Just let me know when you’re ready for me to come back in,” I call out through the bathroom door. I’d darted out of there under the pretense of allowing Alessandro some privacy, but the truth is that I needed a minute after that steamy bath to compose myself too.

Pacing the length of his bedroom in quick, manic steps, I draw in slow measured breaths to still my racing heart. What sorcery is this? How could that foul-tempered, cocky gobshite have my hands shaking after a simple bath? That has never happened withanyof my patients.

And I’ve seen more naked men than a Vegas bachelorette party.

Seeing the great Gemini heir at his most vulnerable snapped something inside me. The rippling abs don’t hurt either. Hisbody, much like the man himself, is a map of contradictions, stunningly perfect and tragically scarred. It ignited feelings I thought I’d buried with that blade in Conall’s thigh. Then plunged even deeper after that terrible night at the halfway house all those months ago.

This is the first time I’ve felt even a hint of desire since then…

The overwhelming weight pressing me down. The disgusting stench of sweat and cheap cologne. The rasp of his hot breath against my ear…

The sharp ding of my cell has my racing heart climbing up my throat.Fecking hell, Rory, get it together. Da would be embarrassed by the simpering fool you’ve become. Darting across Alessandro’s room through the adjoining door to my own, I grab my phone from the bed.

A new message from my soon-to-be ex-roommate flashes across the screen.

Shelly: How’s the new job?

I heave in a fortifying breath, and my fingers fly across the screen.

Me: Good.

I can’t very well tell her it’s been a disaster, and I have no idea if I’ll survive the day let alone the entire probationary week.

Shelly: That’s great. So when do you think you’ll be able to move your stuff out?

Me: I thought I had until next Friday.

Shelly: Our landlady is giving me crap about getting out sooner, Thursday the latest. She needs to send in a cleaning crew before the new tenants arrive.

Me: Okay, I’ll try to get my things out as soon as possible.

Shelly: Thanks, I appreciate it, Rory. Sorry it all went down like this. You were my favorite roommate yet.

A lot of good that does me.

Five days. I can do this. I can tame the broody millionaire and with any luck, secure a job and a great place to live for the next six months. Tossing my cell back onto the bed, I march back into McFecker’s room.

I can’t help but grin at the clever nickname. Things between my new patient and mehaveto work out. Otherwise, I’ll be moving back to that halfway house I first lived in when I arrived in Manhattan. A chill skirts up my spine as the grisly memories attempt to resurface. Nope, not opening up that particularly dark, tortured corner of my mind. That horrible night must remain dead and buried…

“I’m ready.” Alessandro’s voice jerks me from the grim musings. His deep timbre seeps through the door, a mixture of reluctance and resignation resonating in his tone.

Steeling myself with another deep breath, I force my hand to the knob and twist.

The bathroom is humid, heavy with steam and the faint bite of antiseptic. Alessandro perches on the edge of the tub like a brooding Roman statue. He’s all sharp lines, glowering silence, and just enough towel flung across his legs to be considered polite.

Barely.

His scarred skin still glistens from the bath. Drops of water trail down the curve of his shoulder, disappearing into the ridges and valleys of skin the fire tried to claim.

He watches me as I peel off the wet gloves with a snap, replace them with new ones and reach for the ointment. His eyes are that same stormy mix of light and shadow, winter and fire. They track every move I make, like he’s waiting for me to flinch.

I don’t.

Instead, I kneel between his legs, trying very hard not to notice that said towel is doing a shite job of hiding the veryobvious evidence that his cock is alive and well. Thanks in no small part to me, apparently.

The sight of it has that whisper of heat igniting low in my belly. Burying the completely inappropriate thoughts, I force my brain to switch into nurse mode.

“Try not to die while I’m applying this, yeah?” I mutter, dipping my fingers into the burn ointment and gently pressing it to the jagged mess of skin climbing up his side.