Chapter 22 Personal Nurse II
 
 
 
 
 
 
Inside a spacious but austere office, the atmosphere was oppressive and intimidating. Lorenzo’s piercing gaze bore into his subordinates, his anger obvious after yet another failed plan.
For days, Antonio’s men had been investigating the incident at the warehouse, tracing leads that might point to Lorenzo. Despite their efforts, Lorenzo knew they would never find any evidence tying him to the explosion. Bruno had been incinerated along with the warehouse, leaving no trace behind. Initially unsure if Bruno had truly perished, Lorenzo had his men confirm the rumors. It was no longer just hearsay—it was a fact. Bruno was gone. Lorenzo hadn’t expected Antonio to retaliate so decisively after their previous encounter.
A cruel smirk formed on Lorenzo’s lips as he took a drag from his cigarette, exhaling a plume of smoke. His men, strutting around the room, felt a chill run down their spines, fearing their boss’s ire.
“When’s our next arms deal scheduled?” Lorenzo asked, his voice cold and deliberate.
“In three days, boss,” replied Abate, Lorenzo’s right-hand man, while the others remained silent, staring at the floor, too afraid to meet their leader’s gaze.
“Good,” Lorenzo muttered, his tone indifferent. He rose from his chair, tossed his cigarette to the floor, and crushed it under his shoe. His sharp eyes scanned the room, amplifying the tension.
Abate hesitated before speaking. “Boss, regarding the woman from the auction…we still haven’t located her. It’s my fault—”
“Forget about her,” Lorenzo interrupted dismissively. His tone suggested he no longer cared about the matter. He had more intriguing prey to focus on—Antonio’s woman.
Abate furrowed his brow in confusion. Lorenzo rarely let anyone escape his grasp, but he dared not question his boss’s sudden change of heart.
Lorenzo’s sinister smile deepened, sending a shiver through the room. No one dared speculate about his intentions, hoping only that his next move wouldn’t be even more ruthless than before.
Antonio’s weakness remained the same—women. For a mafia boss, attachments were liabilities, a foolish indulgence.
“This fresh development is far more interesting than chasing after yesterday’s garbage,” Lorenzo sneered.
 
As the car pulled up to the estate, Antonio stepped out with his usual composed demeanor. His sharp eyes swept over the guards standing at attention before he ascended the grand staircase.
Entering his expansive study, Antonio exhaled a weary sigh. Though his injuries were still healing, they no longer hindered him. The only inconvenience was the difficulty of changing clothes unaided.
Rossi entered the room, carrying a stack of documents from the office.
“Is Rose’s room next to mine ready?” Antonio asked, his tone neutral as he sat down at his desk.
“Yes, boss, the room has been prepared, but she hasn’t moved in yet,” Rossi replied, quickly gauging his boss’s mood.
“Take care of it,” Antonio said curtly before rising and heading toward his bedroom.
Rossi walked to the opposite wing of the estate to find Martha, instructing her to summon Rose.
“The boss would like to see you,” Martha informed Rose.
Rose nodded, concealing her curiosity. Though she had many questions, she followed Rossi without comment.
She was led to the main sitting room, only to find it empty. Confused, she turned to Rossi, who gestured toward the upper floors.
“He’s waiting in his room,” Rossi explained, leading her up the wide staircase lined with ornate marble vases and angelic sculptures. After a short walk, they stopped in front of a large door. Rossi opened it and motioned for her to enter.
 
Rose stepped inside hesitantly, taking in the room’s opulent yet intimidating décor. Her heart skipped a beat when she noticed the enormous bed dominating the space. She instinctively stepped back, only to collide with a solid chest.
“Ah!” she gasped as Antonio’s powerful arms wrapped around her from behind. His familiar cologne teased her senses, stirring feelings she couldn’t quite name. His embrace was firm yet comforting, far from the repulsion she felt toward other men.
What am I thinking? She chided herself.
“I missed you,” Antonio murmured, his deep voice brushing against her ear. His warm breath tickled her neck, intensifying the fluttering in her chest.
Antonio’s desire for Rose was overwhelming, yet he fought to control it. They were too close to the bed—a dangerous proximity—but he resisted, determined to wait.
“Where have you been?” Rose asked softly.
Antonio released her and turned her to face him.
“I just got out of the hospital,” he admitted.
Rose’s eyes widened in shock. “What happened? Why—”
“I was shot,” Antonio said matter-of-factly, his voice calm despite the gravity of his words. For him, danger was a part of life.
“Are you alright now?”
“I’m better, but not fully recovered. I wanted to recuperate here rather than at the hospital,” he explained.
Rose nodded, trying to process the information. “Why did you call me here?”
A sly smile crept across Antonio’s face. “I need you to help me bathe.”
“What?” Rose stammered, stepping back in alarm. “Why not hire a nurse? I—I don’t know how to do that!”
“But you said you wanted to work and make yourself useful,” Antonio reminded her, his tone teasing.
“I meant cleaning the house or tidying up, not…this!” she protested.
Antonio stepped closer, his voice dropping to a velvet whisper. “Think of it as cleaning me instead. It’s the same, but much easier.”
“No!” Rose exclaimed, retreating until her back hit the edge of the bed. She froze, unable to escape.
Her legs trembled, but she forced herself to stay calm. Surely Antonio wouldn’t force her into anything—would he?
“I’m not comfortable doing this,” she pleaded, her eyes wide and pleading.
Her innocent gaze stirred something in Antonio, softening his heart. Still, he couldn’t resist teasing her a little more.
“It’s just like wiping down a table,” he said with a mischievous grin.
“Wiping a table?” she repeated incredulously.
“Yes,” he replied, leaning closer. “Except...”