Avenge :Romanian Mob Chronicles(4)

I stared at her blatantly, assessing, not that she seemed to notice. Her dark hair was pulled back tight, giving a perfect view of the side of her face she had turned to me. Her prominent cheekbone was the first thing that drew my gaze, sharp and defined but still soft-looking.

I dropped my gaze lower to her smooth neck, her creamy brown skin looking almost edible. My heart thudded, so I looked down further to the stiff white jacket. The uniform she wore was functional, but it didn’t hide her abundant curves, the top straining across her more-than-ample breasts and doing the same across her full hips.

She was very pretty, but not in a flamboyant way. She seemed earthy, wholesome, the girl next door, or at least what I’d imagine one looked like from what I’d seen on TV.

Everything about her was foreign to me. Just this brief glimpse proved that she was unlike anyone else in my world, proved that she shouldn’t be here at all.

But that knowledge didn’t temper my response to her, didn’t even begin to slow the desire that had begun to churn through me. In this moment, my world had narrowed to her, to the fantasy of what it would be like to touch her, kiss her, take her…

Christoph Senior’s sharp, painful-sounding cough chased the thought away and reminded me of where I was. I spared the woman another glance, still desirous of her, more than I wanted to admit, even to myself. And even more wary than I had been just seconds ago. One look at her had made me forget myself, made me get lost in fantasies that had no place in my mind. And that was dangerous.

She was dangerous. And I couldn’t let myself forget it.

I shook off the vestiges of the desire that the woman stirred with seemingly no effort, and then turned my focus to watching her work. She hurriedly yet deftly patted Christoph Senior on his back and held the tube to his mouth.

Had I not had my eyes glued to her, still felt a feeling I could only describe as alive where her fingers had touched me, I wouldn’t have believed it was happening. Not ever, ever, had a stranger been inside the house, let alone moving freely as this woman seemed to be. All of the men who had access had been vetted by me personally, and household staff worked under ever-watchful eyes.

This type of freedom was unprecedented. Yet here she was, in the flesh. Appealing flesh, I couldn’t help but notice. But that wasn’t my concern. What mattered was who she was and why she was here.

“That’s right. Deep breath. Slow,” she said, her voice low and soothing. As she spoke, I imagined that voice close to my ear, the woman who possessed it in my arms.

I frowned.

“Who are you?” I said flatly a few moments later.

She didn’t look at me, just kept focused on Christoph Senior.

“Deep breath. Deep breath,” she said in that soft, soothing voice that managed to be calm without sounding condescending, one that I was far too aware of, especially given the circumstances.

She reached into the pocket of the white smock she wore, pulled a small metal canister out of it, and went to latch it on the tube. Before she could snap it in, I reached out and grabbed her wrist, squeezing hard enough that the bones started to give way, but not hard enough to break them.

She turned then, her honey-colored eyes wide with some emotion. It wasn’t fear and it wasn’t surprise, the two with which I had the most familiarity. I couldn’t quite place it, and the way she stared at me, long lashes fluttering, stirred something in my chest.

I felt my brows dripping farther into a scowl, the pulse of her heartbeat against my fingertips. “Who are you?”

My voice had dropped, was now barely more than a low rumble in my chest. But she heard me, and understood.

“I’m Lily, Mr. Constantin’s new nurse,” she said.

Then, in the next beat, she pulled her hand away, snapped the canister into the tube, again ignoring me completely, all of her focus on him. “This should help. Just keep going, breathe slow and even,” she said.

Her voice, the hand that again rubbed Christoph’s back, seemed to coax the breath from him. Bit by bit the wheeze quieted, and soon all that remained was the low rattle that shook Christoph’s chest almost all the time now. Sad that the sound was an improvement, but it was.

“You should rest, Mr. Constantin,” the woman said as she pulled the tube out of his mouth.

“No. Time enough for that soon enough,” he choked out.

She looked at him skeptically as if she wanted to protest, but she eventually said, “Okay. But I’m going to make you some tea. It’ll help keep the cough down.”

Christoph waved, patted the back of the woman’s hand. “Fine. Fine,” he said.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” she said, and then, without looking at me at all, she left, her soft-soled shoes barely making a sound on the smooth hardwood floors.