Total pages in book: 12
Estimated words: 10546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 53(@200wpm)___ 42(@250wpm)___ 35(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 10546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 53(@200wpm)___ 42(@250wpm)___ 35(@300wpm)
Because I could not afford to get any closer to him, or I’d end up just as feral over him as Niran, Alfonzo, and Rico were over their husbands.
5
Drew
Istared at Alfonzo for a moment, trying to figure out if I’d heard him correctly. Had he really just fucking said what I thought he did? Clearly, my hearing was damaged. It had to be.
“Did you just say I was out of commission for a week?” I demanded, not even caring that I was definitely speaking out of line to my superior. “Seven fucking days? No training, no bodyguarding. Just… nothing. For a week?”
Alfonzo, though, didn’t get angry. He grew amused, the fucking bastard. His lips twitched, and his eyes lit up with laughter. “Yep,” he said, even popping the P because he was an asshole like that. “Doctor’s orders. Your hands need to heal.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Besides, kind of your fault you’re in this predicament. I told you to make him disappear, not to beat him into a bloody pulp before you did it.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “If I’d just killed him and not made him suffer, you’d have my head on a fucking chopping block.”
“Other ways to make trash suffer than beating them to death with your fists,” he retorted. “Not my fault you’re a savage, Drew.” He jerked his chin toward Rico’s office door. Rico had silently been watching our exchange the entire time, and Niran, who was also in the room, was ignoring us, just playing on his phone and letting Alfonzo handle me. “You’re dismissed.”
I gritted my teeth, then stormed from the room. I might be on fucking leave for a minimum of a week, but that didn’t mean that was the end of any of this. Doc had some fucking explaining to do. He was ripping my entire routine to shreds, and I needed that routine. That fucking stability. Just who the fuck did he think he was, calling the shots like that and going behind my fucking back?
The door to Nicholas’s infirmary was shut, which was normal since it was just after five in the morning. Still, I opened it to make sure he wasn’t inside. Then, I stormed to the training room, but he wasn’t there either, and he wasn’t in the locker rooms. Which left one other place for him to be.
Home.
And I wasn’t afraid of crossing that boundary to get all this rage at him out of my fucking system.
Shoving out the back door of the house, I headed down the concrete pathway to his home on the backside of the property. He was just coming out the door when I drew near, wearing a pair of dark gray joggers and a long-sleeve shirt, his clothes for work in the small duffel at his side because that was what he always did—a man of fucking routine. When he turned from shutting the door, his eyes widened, then grew wary.
“Drew—”
“Get. The fuck. Inside,” I snarled, pointing at his front door.
“No. What—”
I reached around him, twisted the handle, and shoved the door open. Then, I gripped his shoulders with my bandaged hands and forcefully turned him to face his house once more, then pushed him inside. I followed him in, then slammed the door shut behind us.
“What the fuck is this about, Drew?” he demanded, dropping his duffel to the floor and crossing his arms over his chest. His glare was hot enough to burn me, but I was already on fucking fire, so it didn’t faze me a single bit.
“You went behind my fucking back and told my bosses I needed a minimum of a week off and a reevaluation at the end of the week before I can return to work,” I snarled. “You had no fucking right—”
“I had every right to do so,” Nicholas snapped, cutting me off. “Your hands are fucked right now, Drew. They need rest. You’re just making shit worse by not caring for them properly. As your doctor—”
“As my fucking doctor,” I growled, stepping closer to him, “you should know the whole, ‘my body, my choice’ thing, right?”
Our chests brushed with each heaving, angry breath we expelled into the air between us. I was furious. I was reeling, and my week off had barely even started. Hadn’t even been ten fucking minutes yet. He’d taken what I needed from me, and he expected me to just roll over and deal with it because he thought my fucking hands needed a rest?
“Cut the bullshit, Drew,” he sneered. “What’s done is done, and Alfonzo even emailed me back to agree. You’re fucking useless to Maksim with those hands.”
“I am fucking not!” I roared, the word useless crawling beneath my skin and burrowing deep, fucking poisoning me. My hands curled into fists, and my knuckles throbbed. My fingers ached, but I couldn’t force them to relax, even as I felt my knuckles split back open, the scabs not yet strong enough to remain closed.