My Billionaire Stranger (9 page)

Chapter 12

A woman from the legal department in the hospital joins us in Marcus’s room before his discharge. I really would have liked to have a lawyer of my own go over this paperwork before I sign anything, but Marcus has sparked a sense of urgency under everyone involved in orchestrating his discharge. I feel pressured to not hold up the operation. Paperwork completed, we load into the ambulance and start home, well home for him at least. Being packed into the back of a cramped ambulance with Marcus is like being in a microwave, with electromagnetic radiation, 300 GHz zapping through the air, crackling between us. When the doors close he reaches out for my hand.

“Are you afraid Mr. Castillo?” I tease.

“No I am not, but maybe you should be.” One corner of his mouth pulls up in quite possibly the sexiest smirk I’ve seen on any man’s face. My core melts from the blazing heat in his eyes and I squirm on the bench across from him. Why does he do this to me? I can see in his expression that he enjoys toying with me. He purposely causes me to blush red-hot from my toes to the tip of every hair follicle if that were possible. “Why do you resist me Imani, have I not proven myself to you? Not one thing I have desired has been denied me in the short time we have been acquainted. Surely you know that I want you for so much more than your nursing skills, although those will come in handy at some point as well, a bonus if you will.” Wait… what? A bonus-what is he talking about? My head is spinning and I actually feel faint. Like foggy around the edges, hearing fading in and out ready to drop on the floor faint. He tugs on my hand and through my sparkled vision I see his face change from his smoldering smirk to worried. “Imani.” His brow wrinkles with concern right before he starts barking my name as if he were trying to shake me from a bad dream, loud and abrupt with authority, demanding me to focus. “Imani, breathe; fuck you’re going to pass out if you don’t take deep breaths.” He drops my hand that he’s been holding to reach up and wrap it around the back of my neck shoving my head down between my legs.

“I’m ok, I’m ok. Really, let me go, it’s just so close in here and I’m a little dizzy.” I try to sit up unsuccessfully; he continues to hold me captive with little or no effort with only one arm, strapped into a gurney and a broken leg. I would have gone ballistic in a full-on panic attack with any other man.

“Stay down there until you are sure,” he orders and I do, inhaling deep breaths for a few moments until he’s convinced that I’m all right.

“I think I’m ok now, please let me go,” I squeak from between my legs and he releases me immediately.

“What was
that,
you’re supposed to be nursing me back to health, not passing out from a little flirting!”  God, could I possibly be anymore embarrassed? Yea probably. “I told you, it’s hot in here the circulation is terrible. You shouldn’t flirt with the help, you’re my employer and you’re paying me.”

“Yes I certainly am, a lot, and I can’t have you fainting every time I smile at you. I know I’m irresistible but really Imani you are going to have to toughen up. I happen to favor you and I would not want to see that pretty head of yours injured. In case you haven’t noticed, I am not in any condition to see to it that you land in my arms and not on the metal floor of this ambulance.” Well that was unexpected, infuriating and flattering all at the same time. Toughen up, I’ll show him tough, and obviously I would never expect him to catch me falling, what an ass.
I know I’m irresistible
, ugh really? Screw you Mr. Conceited. I straighten up and lean away from the unexplainable intoxication surrounding him and gather myself. “Mr. Castillo, you are one cocky son of a bitch, and I will
never
require you to prevent me from falling, you need to refrain from flirting with me. We have a professional relationship when I am your nurse and you will do well to file that bit of information away for future reference,” I snap…so shove that in your pipe and smoke it HA! I can’t believe I just told this man that I am hopelessly into that he is a cocky son of a bitch. Shit, I hope I didn’t push him too far. He is taken aback but only for a few seconds before he roars with laughter. When he catches his breath from whatever the hell is so hilarious he finally speak

“Oh Imani, your quick, smart mouth slays me- no one has ever spoken to me that way…no one, in fact I hope the driver didn’t hear that. I have a reputation to uphold as a cocky son of a bitch you know!”

I am at a loss for words, what do I do with that remark?  I feel the ambulance slow and I’m more than a little happy when it pulls to a halt. I’m glad were getting out of this fucking box. I should have followed in my own car. The ambulance driver swings open the doors and light floods into the cab. It’s an unusually sunny fall day in Seattle; I love the warmth on my face. When I hop out, the beauty of the grounds surrounding Marcus’s house stuns me, no “house” doesn’t even come close to describing this place- it actually looks very much like a castle.   There are two stone towers one on either side of a set of grand double doors that are curiously painted purple. Those doors open instantly when we begin unloading the stretcher. A man with a tight businesslike expression strides toward us. He looks to be at least ten years older than Marcus.  “I’m Mr. Black,” he introduces himself to me curtly. “You must be the nurse.”

“Uh yes, that’s me, Imani.” This man is intimidating, but not in the same way that Marcus is. It’s more like he is a drill sergeant and this is my first day in boot camp. Mr. Black is about 5 foot 11 inches tall with crystal blue eyes. His skin is tan, and from what I can tell he’s in pretty good shape, bald, borderline handsome, and he has a frightening scar on his cheek that runs the full length of his neck. “Yes Mr. Black, this is Imani Jefferson; she will be staying with us for a while until I am able to get around on my own. Ready the room next to mine, so she will be easily accessible to me,” Marcus instructs. Oh no, he doesn’t! He’s not manipulating me into living here, that wasn’t in the agreement and he damn well knows it!

“Nice to meet you Mr. Black, there will be no need for a room, I’ll be going home at night and returning each morning. I have my own home” I say, looking directly at Marcus to make sure he understands. He isn’t pleased, but he accepts my objection for now. Somehow I know this isn’t the end of the subject.

“Mr. Black, make up a room anyway, just in case Ms. Jefferson needs to lie down, she becomes faint quite easily.” He’s biting his lip, trying not to laugh at me. I’m fuming. Mr. Black looks at me with raised eyebrows. Mr. Black looks back and forth between us. I glare at Marcus, but stubbornly I refuse to give him the satisfaction of a reply.

“Do as your please Mr. Black, I don’t need a room, and don’t mind him, he hit his head in the accident,” I say jerking my thumb toward Marcus. This banter seems to please Mr. Black, and his expression is less severe as we roll Marcus through the huge front doors on a gurney.

“Welcome home Imani, I hope you enjoy it here because I plan on keeping you for a very long time!” he bellows as we enter the
mansion/castle.
He sounds like the Mad Hatter from Alice and Wonderland. Maybe this is the brain damage; I really should start a log or diary of his bizarre behavior. I should also interrogate some of his staff to see what exactly his normal behavior is, if he’s ever been normal at all. Several people approach at once and close the doors behind us. I look around in awe as we move through an empty foyer. A spectacular chandelier sparkles above us and a grandiose staircase runs up the middle of the foyer branching out on either side to separate areas on the second floor. To my right there’s another set of double doors that lead to an office. On the left is an open area that flows under the stairs toward the back of the house. We continue through a large spacious living room furnished with pieces of old English furniture. There are enormous floor to ceiling windows covered in heavy deep purple curtains that drape into pools of fabric on the floor. In fact, there’s a
lot
of purple in here, everywhere I look. It’s not a particularly feminine shade of purple; this shad of purple exudes royalty, which is what I imagine the decorator was going for. Open double doors right off of the living room lead us into the master suite of the house, Marcus’s bedroom. An middle-aged Hispanic woman moves past us toward his bed and swiftly pulls back the covers before she hustles to the window to open the heavy drapes that cover more floor-to- ceiling windows.

“That will be all Cecilia.” He dismisses the woman without a ‘thank you’ God he needs to learn some manners. I make a mental note to put that on top of the list of things we need to do. The paramedics lower the gurney next to his bed and begin to to move him over. “No, I’ll stand,” he quips.

“Ah Marcus, it would be smart to let them help you, you haven’t been out of bed on your own yet,” I say only to be ignored. 

“I will do it myself.” The drivers look at me with question and I shrug and raise my hands in frustration.

“Let him try I guess, but be right there in case he can’t make it,” I say. Marcus scowls at me. “What? I’m your nurse, I don’t know why you want me here if you don’t plan on following my directions.” I get no reply- just angry stubbornness. They lower the rail and move the gurney close to his bed. Marcus swings his good leg over placing his foot on the ground. I tense and take a half step toward him instinctively but he looks up at me with a “Don’t you dare!” look on his face, and I stop in my tracks. He uses his hands to guide his casted leg off the gurney first followed by his good leg. He then hops while turning to sit with unexpected grace on the edge of his bed. He looks pretty satisfied with himself as he glances in my direction while raising his casted leg up onto mattress and the pillows that have been strategically arranged by Maria. I have to say I am impressed. It’s as if he has done this before, or maybe it’s the absolute control he has over every muscle in his body. Either way, I’m enjoying the sight of him moving on his own. I didn’t think it was possible for him to be more attractive, but Marcus in motion is living breathing art. His picture could be on the cover of an anatomy book, every part of him is sculpted, hard and polished. He’s dressed in a long sleeved charcoal grey Henley that stretches across his fine chest in the most distracting way, and a pair of soft jeans with one leg cut off at the knee to allow for the cast.

Oh yes, I had to do that. I helped him dress, and if that wasn’t torture, I can’t say what is. I helped him with that shirt, it was criminal covering his chest, and his abs should be on permanent display. His jeans were put on with equal regret as I watched him lift his hips making it easier for me to slide them over his hips; my hands trembled the entire time. He fucking loved every second of unnerving me. Mr. Black stands quietly now, directing everyone where to go and what to do while shooing the paramedics out. “Anything else Miss. Jefferson?”

I’m surprised when he directs the question at me. I shake my head no. “Imani, please call me Imani.”

“Yes, very well Imani, I’ll go check on dinner with Cook while you get Mr. Castillo settled. I’ll return in a while to give you a tour of the house.”

“Thank you.”

He turns to back out of the room pulling both doors shut. He does it with such formality and flare that he reminds me of a butler in an old movie. I turn to Marcus; he’s looking expectantly at me. Oh my, I am in Marcus’s bedroom with him alone and I am nervous as hell. “Can I do anything for you? Pain meds or water? Let’s get your things unpacked and the essentials within your reach.” I’m rambling and my heart is pounding in my chest. I’m on his territory now and he is very aware that he has the home field advantage.  I really should have thought this through, but I can’t turn back now, I signed up for this and I need to find middle ground right off the bat. He’s smiling a face-splitting smile when I look up at him. Why oh why does he love making me sweat?

“Come here.” Against my better judgment I do as he wishes and move closer but not too close. I stay at the foot of the bed where he can’t actually reach me. “You know you can’t stay out of my reach forever don’t you? I’m going to need some assistance, albeit minimal, I do like doing things for myself.”

“I know…”

He crooks his finger at me to come closer and without hesitation this time I do, the pull is too strong for me to resist. He takes my hand examines it, turning it over with both of his smoothing his fingers over my skin following the line of my arm to the soft spot where it bends and returning to my open palm.

“You’re so soft,” he purrs, his touch lights my skin on fire, burning every inch as he continues to caress my arm. “You smell sweet, like cotton candy.” He closes his eyes and instructs me to do the same. “Close your eyes with me.” Puzzled and wary of loosing one of my senses I pause until he opens his eyes and repeats himself. “Close your eyes,” he says in a slightly lower tone, and I do but not before I peek to see that he has closed his again to. He guides my hand down the side of his smoothly shaven face to his neck, across his throat, and then he switches to the opposite side of his face repeating the motions. I hear him moan softly before he continues brushing my fingers across his forehead, gently encouraging me to explore every curve of his face on my own. “My favorite Aunt was blind. She was the only person who has ever really known me. She was also the only person who has ever loved me, and this is how she learned to read my emotions, my thoughts and expressions.”

I inhale a quick breath as he gives me this gift of information about his past. Somehow I’m sure he doesn’t talk about his past with just anyone. I take the reigns and move my hand on my own now, exploring and memorizing his face, gliding over a dimple on one cheek that I remember so well from shaving his face. Seeing it in my mind with my eyes closed is so much more intimate. Instead of just seeing him I’m feeling him, connecting on a level I didn’t know existed. I raise my other hand and position one on either side of his face to caress his cheeks with my thumbs and feather my fingers over his ears and down his neck. My breathing comes in quick pants, as does his and he places his hands on my forearms to guide me into a tender kiss. His mouth gently covers mine as he softly traces my lips with his tongue. Kissing the tip of my nose and each cheek tenderly before returning his attention to my mouth where he deepens the kiss. His tongue glides exploring every part of my mouth. When his hands move to my hips, he eases me down onto the bed next to him but I boldly take it a step further, and climb on top of him, straddling his hips. I take care not to apply any of my weight to his leg. We have no bodily contact other than our mouths as I kneel over him and return to kissing. A low growl escapes his exploring lips and a whimper of my own fills the room. He thrusts his hips upward, forcing our bodies together I feel his thick cock against my core as he holds me firmly against his chest. I resist too worried about  hurting his leg.