One
Pop! Pop! Pop! The muffled sound made me open my eyes, squinting through the white steam that filled the bathroom. I tilted my head, wondering what it was. After a moment, I didn’t hear it again and continued with my shower. It was well deserved after the day I had, dealing with patients and their families all day long. The patients weren’t bad. On the contrary, they were lovely, most of them. It was the hovering family who would hound me about every little thing going on with their loved ones. I didn’t blame them. I’d probably do the same if I was in their shoes. But, still, it can be a bit much.
Pop! Pop! There it was again, closer this time, and followed by a loud thud. Something was going on. Curious, I quickly threw on some clothes to investigate. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary as I walked through my home. Everything remained the same as I had left it when I returned from work. Everything except the shadow underneath my back door. I furrowed my eyebrows. That shadow was not there when I came in. Worry and curiosity filled me, fighting to see which one would win. Curiosity won as I walked to the back door and cracked it open.
I peeked out of the small opening. Night had already fallen, making it difficult to see without turning on the lights. Just when I was about to close the door, my eyes landed on a male figure leaning against the door with a pool of dark liquid underneath him. I didn’t need a light to know that it was blood. A quick glance at his body told me everything I needed to know before jumping into action.
I swung the door open, catching him before his head could hit the ground. I dragged him inside and lugged his heavy, muscular body on the couch. Another thud sounded and I looked down. There was a handgun lying on the ground. It fell from him, I deduced. It wasn’t important right now, so I kicked it aside. I’d deal with it later.
Leaving him for a brief moment, I gathered some supplies to patch him up. With the light, I could see much better than before and saw he had a couple of wounds in his arms. I set about removing the bullets. As I worked on him, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I knew him from somewhere. I just couldn’t remember where. Pushing it aside, I finished patching up his arms and checked for any other wounds I might have missed.
Sure I removed them all, I adjusted him so he would be more comfortable when he woke. Once I pulled my hand away, I noticed the sticky feeling and pulled up his shirt sleeve, revealing a bronze toned arm, bulging with veins, with a bullet embedded. I ran my hand over the wound, trying to determine how deep the bullet was. His arm tensed and not a second later, a hand wrapped around my throat.
It wasn’t tight enough to cut off my oxygen supply, but tight enough to keep me from moving. Though calm outwardly, my heart pounded in my chest. As he opened his eyes and sat up, it seemed to pound even harder. I watched as he took in the room around us. His eyes flicked from the slate grey walls to the black coffee table where numerous blood-coated bullets lay surrounded by bloody tools and supplies.
When his eyes met mine, there was a flicker of recognition that I’m sure reflected in mine as well. I finally remembered why he was strangely familiar. A flicker of darkness, booming music, sweating bodies, and those gunmetal grey eyes staring at me with interest and desire.
“What are you doing here?” He questioned, releasing my throat. I tilted my head. “The better question is how did you get here like this?” I gestured to him. He looked down, taking in the various bandages. “That’s what you should be wondering.”
He shuffled on the couch, about to it up. I gently pushed him back. When he raised an eyebrow, I explained, “I’m not finished yet. Sit back down.”
He didn’t say anything. He didn’t fight against me. He merely sat back down and watched me work. It was nerve-wracking, feeling his eyes on me while I dug through his skin to retrieve the bullets. When I finally glanced up, I recognized the look in his eyes.
“You’ve got that look in your eyes again,” I muttered, the tweezers skimming against the remaining bullet. He grunted and tensed his arm. “What look?”
I looked at him pointedly.
“You would undress me too if you were only given a taste.”
I huffed as the tweezers came up empty again. Every time I touched the bullet, he tensed up again. He needed to relax his arm, but I knew that was easier said than done. There was one trick up my sleeve that I could use, one that I don’t typically use but was necessary in this case.
“This probably won’t help then,” I mumbled lowly. He didn’t have time to react when I straddled him. His hands rested on my waist and tightened as I dug deep, searching for the elusive bullet. He groaned when I yanked it out.
“You could have warned me.”
“I could have,” I started, holding my hand over the wound while I reached for gauze to pack and bandage it. “But you wouldn’t have relaxed enough to get the bullet out.”
I moved to get off him, but he held me in place.
“Let me go.”
“I think I like this position,” he murmured.
“Of course you do, but you’re covered in blood.”
“And?”
“And you’re ruining my couch.”
“I’m bleeding and you’re worried about a couch?” He asked in disbelief. I raised an eyebrow. “I patched you up.”
“You didn’t fix everything.” He shifted slightly and I felt the growing bulge in his pants.
“Nothing a cold shower can’t take care of,” I commented.
“Really?”
“Yes, really. You need to heal first. Any strenuous activity can cause those wounds to open and bleed again.”
“Sex counts as a strenuous activity?”
I gave him another pointed look, not even bothering to respond. He gave me a cheeky smile. I knew what he was doing and it wasn’t going to work, not this time. I was going to be strong and not cave into ruffling the sheets, especially not with him wounded.
I pointed down the hall. “Shower. I’m sure there are people worried about your absence.”
“They can wait.”
“If you say so.”
I helped him to the spare bathroom. Once I was certain he could move without help, I left him to get cleaned up while I found some clothes. After finding an outfit, I laid it on the bed and went into the kitchen. With the TV on for background noise, I started preparing food. Maybe I was just hungry or maybe it was the Southern girl in me, but I ended up cooking enough for two. I shrugged. It didn’t bother me. The food wouldn’t go to waste. I was finishing up when I heard his footsteps behind me. Not a minute later, his arms wrapped around my waist and he dipped his head into the crook of my neck.
“Smells good in here,” he murmured. I craned my neck to look at him. “Nice to see the clothes fit, if not a little snugly.”
“Should I ask why you have men’s clothes?”
“You’re not the only male that stays over from time to time.”
His arms tightened and I smiled to myself. Someone’s a little jealous, I thought. I didn’t comment and went to plate the food, but I didn’t get far. “Are you going to let me get the food before it burns?”
“That’s not what I’m hungry for.” His hands dipped a little lower and pulled me closer to him, eliminating what little space was between us. I shook my head and took the food out. The TV blared with a sudden news announcement. “Breaking news tonight. We’ve just received word that billionaire playboy Xavier Capone has been shot. His status is unknown.”
He stiffened as the news anchorman continued. Curious at his reaction, I turned to face him. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a picture flash on the screen, his picture. Holy crap, I slept with a billionaire, was the first thought in my head. The ever-curious, analytical side of me wondered how they could have received that information.
“What are you thinking? Are you upset? When women get quiet, it usually means they’re upset,” he rambled. I scoffed a laugh and pointed at the TV. “I’m not upset. And I did say people would be looking for you.”
He pulled back to look me in the eyes. “That’s not answering my question.”
“Why do you want to know how I feel? I’m not hurt. Surprised, yeah. Curious, maybe.”
“Do you want me to leave?”
I won’t lie. My heart dropped at the question. I knew that there were issues that he needed to sort out, but I wanted him to stay. I wasn’t about to force him to stay though.
“Do you want to leave?”
“If you want me to. What do you want?”
“I want you to let your people know you’re okay and they can stop panicking.”
“And then?”
“I want you to eat.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it, for now.”
He looked at me unsurely. Whatever he read on my face, he stepped out. I would assume to make a phone call. While he did that, I poured a drink and sipped on it, contemplating my life. Holy crap. I’ve been sleeping with a billionaire. I couldn’t believe it. Not only that but he was also interested in me. This is a man who could have anyone he wanted and he chose me. My stomach turned giddily and I felt like a schoolgirl with a crush. I shook my head, trying to get rid of the strange feeling. Not even 5 minutes after he’d left, he returned.
“Done already?” I asked. He shrugged. “Wasn’t going to take long.”
“Ride on the way?”
He glanced at the clock. “I’ve got time, plenty of time.”
I didn’t ask any questions and he didn’t say anything more. I passed him a plate and we sat down and ate. We spent the time talking until the plates were cleared. He noticed a game console sitting in the living room underneath the TV. “You play?”
“Sometimes.”
“How about a game?” He proposed. “Winner gets anything they want.”
“Anything?”
He nodded.
“Sure, why not?” He was procrastinating, not wanting to leave. I didn’t mind, being that I liked his company and I didn’t have any plans originally. Once the dishes were cleaned, we played a few games. At some point, my legs were sprawled across his lap. We were on the last lap of a racing game and I was winning. He tried to block my view by holding his hand in front of my face.
“Hey,” I laughed, moving my head. He tried, but I still won the game. “Cheater.”
He laughed. “Ah, man. You win. Best 2 out of 3?”
“So, you can lose again?”
He pulled on my legs, causing me to straddle him. “Who knows? I might win.”
“Like you were winning this time?”
“Even when I lose, I’m still winning,” he replied. I tilted my head. “How so?”
He didn’t respond. He just leaned in closer. I raised my eyebrow but didn’t move away. Taking a chance, he kissed me. I responded, moving my lips in sync with his. He deepened the kiss and I tangled my fingers in his short, curly hair. When our bodies cried out for oxygen, he pulled away slightly, trailing kisses down my neck.
Our lust-filled haze was broken when his phone rang. He ignored it, his lips returning to claim mine once more. When he didn’t answer, the phone kept going off. I pulled away, panting. “Sounds like it’s important.”
“It can wait,” he mumbled against my lips. I hummed, losing myself in him again. After a while, it continued and was becoming more and more annoying. He pulled away and rested his head on my forehead, catching his breath. When it rang again, he muttered lowly and reached for it.
“Be nice,” I chuckled. I made a move to get off his lap, but he held me in place.
“What?” He barked out. I shook my head. There goes being nice.
“Get your drawers from in a bind. I’m outside,” the caller responded, unfazed by the coldness of Xavier’s response. The voice sounded very familiar and I had an inkling as to who it was.
“You called,” he checked the phone before continuing, “10 times to say that?”
“Well, yeah. You didn’t respond to my text. So, I called.”
Xavier hung up and threw the phone on the couch. He buried his head in the crook of my neck again and mumbled unintelligibly. I ran my fingers through his hair.
“What was that?” I asked, playing with a curl.
“Brothers.”
“I wouldn’t know. I’m an only child.”
“You can have mine.”
I laughed. “That’s not how it works.”
“I wish,” he grumbled, picking his head up. “I’ll gladly give him away.”
I rubbed the frown lines on his forehead. I knew why his brother was worried, but I wasn’t going to say anything, knowing the only reason he was bothered now, was because he wasn’t getting a release tonight.
“He’s probably worried. You got shot and he hasn’t seen you in hours. He just wants to see for himself that you’re okay,” I tried. “You’ll have to face him eventually. So, why are you procrastinating?”
“I don’t want to leave,” he whined, letting his head fall onto my chest. I shook my head. This was a grown man acting like a child. I was about to respond when the doorbell rang.
“You have work to do,” I said, lightly poking one of his wounds. “You need to deal with whoever did this to you.”
His head whipped up and he narrowed his eyes. “What do you know?”
The doorbell rang again, followed by a knock.
“I know more than you think,” I replied. “Your brother sounded impatient. I’m willing to bet that it’s him at the door.”
Looking out of the peephole, I saw a familiar face and opened the door.
“Dolcezza!” Matteo exclaimed, hugging me. I returned his hug. “Hi, Matteo. How are you?”
“I’d be better if this lug of a brother answered his phone,” he said, gesturing to Xavier who was staring at me with an unreadable expression.
“You’re staring at me like I just said I’m moving to Antarctica,” I said.
“Why?” Matteo asked.
“It was a previous conversation,” I replied before turning to Xavier, “Go. I’m not going anywhere.”
He continued to stare until Matteo shoved him off the couch. Picking himself up, he grabbed his phone and walked towards me, whispering in my ear before he and Matteo left. I waved goodbye and closed the door once I couldn’t see them anymore.
Yawning, I turned around and picked up a little before heading to bed. As the darkness set in, I could hear his parting words. “I’ll be back. That’s a promise.”
