Page 34 of Wounded King

"Everything looks good. I'll leave your evening medication by the bedside table. Do you need anything else from me today, Mis—Marcello?"

Please say yes, please say yes, my heart begs, despite my mind screaming Mina's name in warning.

He leans back in bed, his arms folded behind his head, as he regards me still with a hungry expression that makes it hard to breathe.

"Unless you want to climb in here and minister to other parts of me in need of a helping hand…" He drifts off.

Alright, this has gone far enough. I channel what's left of my wits and professionalism. "I didn't know sexual favors were included in our agreement." I'm proud of my unwavering voice, with just the right edge of boundary-setting.

"They're not," he responds, unflapped. "I was just reading the atmosphere between us. My apologies if I misread it." He looks anything but apologetic. Arrogance and self-assuredness bleed from him.Fuck. He's blunt and honest.

A spark of anger grows a little bigger in my stomach. I'm not one of Mina's biggest fans, but what I saw… Yeah, in the name of all dumped women, I need to speak up. "I thought you'd be a little bit more subdued after just breaking up with your fiancée."

He looks at me like I've just mentioned a distant relative who died that he can't quite remember, pissing me off even more.

"Fiancée?" he repeats slowly, like the word itself tastes foreign.

"Mina," I bite out. "You remember—four carats, designer tantrums, crocodile tears?"

Recognition flashes in his eyes, but not guilt. No, this man wouldn't know guilt if it walked up and put a bullet through his skull. Oh, wait, that already happened.

"Mina. Right." He shrugs one powerful shoulder, utterly unbothered. "That was a strategic alliance. And a temporary one."

"Is that what you call sleeping with someone and buying them diamond rings?" I snap.

He leans back, the sheets pooling around his waist, revealing just enough of his abs to remind me how close I am to disaster. A slow smirk tugs at his mouth. "Jealous, Chirps?"

The nickname hits its target—soft, intimate, disarming—and I hate how it works.

I fold my arms. "Not even a little. But I am pissed off on behalf of every woman who's ever been used as a smoke screen."

He studies me, something dark slipping beneath the surface of that charming smile. "Don't confuse Mina with someone innocent. She knew the rules. She liked the game. You, on the other hand…" He trails off, tilting his head. "You'd burn the board to the ground."

"Damn right I would," I hiss.

He chuckles again, low and gravelly. "That's why I hired you. That fire. That backbone."

"You hired me to monitor your vitals and manage your medication, not stroke your ego," I shoot back, even though my traitorous pulse is doing gymnastics under his scrutiny.

He holds my gaze, and suddenly the teasing fades, replaced by something weightier. He leans forward, wincing slightly but refusing to look weak, his voice drops into something softer. "I didn't misread the atmosphere, Violet. I just moved too fast."

I stare at him, thrown. For a man who commands entire territories with a phone call, it's oddly disarming to hear him admit… anything.

"So slow down," I say, more breath than words.

He smiles—less arrogant now, more dangerous. "That's the plan, tesoro."

I back away before I do something incredibly stupid, like kiss him. Or worse—trusthim.

"You need rest, not flirting," I say, grabbing the tray from the bedside table.

"And you need to stop looking at me like that," he calls after me as I walk to the door.

"Like what?"

"Like you already know how this ends."

I pause, one hand on the handle, and throw him a look over my shoulder.