Taking Care Of The Mobster: A Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance Read online

  I shake my head again, harder this time. I close my eyes and let my head fall back, magically wishing the bad thoughts away like Beth taught me when we were little.

  “Are you alright?” Sarah’s concerned voice penetrates through my musings.

  I open my eyes in time to see her walk into the kitchen with two bags that seem too big for her petite size. Her brows are knitted in genuine concern as she walks toward me. I suppose it’s alarming to see the new nurse in the kitchen looking like a nutcase in her baggy nightwear and her hair plastered all over.

  I don’t need a mirror to reflect my appearance, it’s how I look every morning. I’d be alarmed too if I came across myself this early in the morning.

  “I’m fine,” I say with a small smile. I take a sip of my coffee and place the cup down on the counter with a sigh. “I just need a shot of caffeine to boost my system.”

  “You seem a little pale,” Sarah says, heaving the grocery bags onto the counter with a small grunt. “You must not have slept well. Of course, that’s understandable, seeing as it was your first night in a strange house and all that.”

  “I guess you’re right,” I mutter quietly, wondering when the caffeine shot will start to take effect. I had a crappy night and didn’t get a wink of sleep. Unwanted thoughts of Carlos Rodriguez kept me tossing and turning for the better part of the night. If the dull steady ache in my temples is any indication, I’m about to have an even crappier morning.

  “You’ll get used to it, I promise,” Sarah says with a warmth that reflects in her gentle brown eyes.

  I almost scoff at the notion of her words. Can I ever get used to living under the same roof as Carlos Rodriguez? I don’t believe it’s possible. He’s a bad man who’s done bad things that are bound to come back to him tenfold. Being around a man like that, I have to be careful not to get caught in the tangled webs of his affairs.

  I have to be on guard at all times. So, it would seem like a good night’s sleep is not in my near future.

  I look up at Sarah to find a soft smile on her lips. “Thank you, Sarah,” I say.

  “Would you like a cup of tea?” Sarah asks, already opening the cabinets above the kitchen counter to take out a new set of cups. “Something to help you calm down. I think Chamomile... Or better still, Matcha....”

  I patiently wait as Sarah busies herself with brewing us some tea. Thoughts of the mobster upstairs start to infiltrate my mind again, despite my conscious effort to ward them off. I keep telling myself not to think about him at all, but I can’t seem to get a hold of my self-discipline.

  What’s wrong with me? What exactly about him makes me so...unsettled? I don’t quite know this feeling...There’s something about Carlos that bothers me. And I don’t like this feeling.

  “You look like you don’t believe it when I say you’ll get used to living here,” Sarah says, placing a warm cup of tea in front of me. Her eyes search mine, and her lips spread slowly into a knowing smile. “You know...Carlos isn’t such a bad man,” she says, leaning lightly against the kitchen island. “Behind all that muscle, he’s a big softie...A good man.”

  “I don’t quite understand,” I say, shaking my head slowly. “You seem like a good person...How can you defend him, knowing the things he does for a living? I’m sorry if that sounds offensive or judgmental. It’s just...I can’t seem to wrap my head around it.”

  “I quite understand you,” Sarah says with a small sigh. “But despite the world's image of Carlos, he’ll always remain my savior.”

  “How so?” I ask with a curious frown, and then I realize it might have been rude to ask so blatantly. “If you don’t want to talk about it, though. I understand. I mean, it’s....”

  “No,” Sarah says with a dismissive wave. “It’s not a huge secret. Look...I’m not as good a person as you might think me to be. I used to do a lot of bad things. I was born and raised in downtown Chicago. My mother was a prostitute, and so was I. The streets are tough, but I fought my way through. I opened a bar – a cover-up for a prostitution ring. It was all good until I got mixed up in some gang shit. My operation was busted, and I was sentenced to a few years in prison. I have a son. He was just ten when I went to jail. After I was gone, my boy had no one to fend for him, and somehow, he ended up at Carlos’s den. Carlos took my boy in and cared for him. He put him in school and protected him like his own son.

  “After completing my time, I had nothing. No thoughts of where to go or how to move my life forward. But Carlos was waiting for me at the gate with my son. I can’t tell you how I felt at that moment. I hardly knew him then, but I felt hope for the first time at a shot at a second chance. To cut the story short, Carlos became family. He saw my son through college, and Aaron is doing so well for himself now. I couldn’t be more proud. Carlos helped me make sense of my life, and this...working for him, it’s the least I can do. Sure, he’s made bad decisions and done some bad things, but do people ever stop to think that his way of life might not have been his choice? The streets are all he knows, and the fact that there’s still some goodness in him makes him worth defending.”

  Sarah takes in a deep breath and shakes her head. “I’m sorry,” she says with a humorless chuckle. “I get emotional and tend to be partial when it comes to Carlos. Anyway, all I’m saying is to give him a fair chance. Get to know the real Carlos Rodriguez without prejudice, and maybe living with him might not be so hard.”

  I take a long sip from my teacup, for lack of words to say. What I just heard Sarah say clashes with the notion of the Carlos Rodriguez I have in my head.

  But can I simply take her words for the truth and let down my guard with a man like him?

  It’s not like I know Sarah that well. She seems like a decent person, but I’ve proven not to be a very good judge of character in the past. I don’t know what to think. I’m even more confused now than when I got up this morning with my jumbled thoughts of the mobster.

  “Okay! That’s enough seriousness,” Sarah says with a laugh. “Now, let me fix you something to eat and get Carlo’s breakfast to him.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about me,” I say. “I really don’t feel hungry at the moment. Why don’t you fix Carlos a tray? I’ll take it up to him. That way, I can give him his morning dose of medication.”

  “On it,” Sarah says, flashing me a bright smile that I suspect has a deeper meaning.

  I lean back in my chair with an inaudible sigh. I’d rather not think about the reason behind the housekeeper’s smile – or a certain gangster boss that keeps popping up in my head.

  “If this isn’t my pretty nurse,” Carlos immediately says as I step into the room with a teasing smile.

  He’s in bed with a pillow propped up to support his neck and shoulders. I start to lower my eyes from his, but I suddenly notice the beads of sweat on his temples. He’s still smiling at me, but now I can see the masked pain behind the humor in his dark eyes. I quickly move toward the bed and set the breakfast tray down on the bedside table. I lean over the edge of the bed and place my palm on his forehead. I gasp softly at how high his fever is.

  “Jesus! You’re burning up,” I exclaim. “If your fever is this bad, why didn’t you call for me? What’s wrong with you?” I shouldn’t be this bothered, but I can’t seem to help myself.

  Carlos grunts heavily and tries to sit up higher. I quickly rush to help him up. I grab onto his huge muscular arm and hold him steady until he finds the least uncomfortable position.

  “I like how worried you are for me right now,” Carlos says, making an effort to chuckle lightly. “It makes me feel like you really care about me.”

  “How can you even joke around at a time like this?” I ask, more than a little exasperated. I let out a huff as if that will help relieve the strange pressure on my chest. “I’ll go get my kit.”

  I leave the room, aware of his eyes on me. Once in my room, I quickly go through my things and pull out my emergency kit. I quickly return to Carlos’s room and place my kit on the bed beside him. I dash to his bathroom to prepare a cool washcloth. I return to the room and place the washcloth gently on his forehead.

  He seems worse than when I first came into his room. His eyes are unfocused and delirious with a feverish pain. I know that I shouldn’t panic, but I can’t help the trickle of fear that pushes up to my chest.

  “I...I need to call 911,” I say, looking around wildly for a phone. “We need to get you to a hospital.”

  “No,” Carlos says, weakly grabbing hold of my hand. “No hospitals, Abby.”

  “What are you talking about?” I ask alarm in my voice. “It looks like your wounds might be infected.”

  “I want you,” he says. His eyes shut tightly against the pain. “You...treat me. No hospitals.”

  I sigh in exasperation. I search through his medications and find the pills for pain. “You need a lot of water,” I murmur, gently thrusting a glass of water into his hands. He obediently gulps down the water and murmurs a word of thanks.

  “Okay... You need to lay down now,” I say, easing him into a lying position. “You probably didn’t sleep all last night... You’ll need to get as much sleep as possible too.” I prop his head comfortably on a pillow and pull the sheets to his shoulders.

  “Will you...will you stay with me?” Carlos asks, shivering slightly.

  He suddenly seems like a pitiful sick child in need of attention and affection. I don’t know how a man over forty can pull at my maternal strings – ones that I never knew existed– but he does.

  “Yes, Mr. Rodriguez,” I say, lowering myself into the chair beside his bed. “I’ll be here attending to you all day. It’s my job to watch over you.”

  He let out an amused chuckle, despite the obvious effort it takes. “Call me Carlos, Abby...”

  “Okay, Sir... I mean, Carlos,” I say and sigh impatiently. “Can you stop talking, please? You really need to rest.”

  “Will you be here when I wake up?” he asks again.

  “Yes,” I say with a soft nod. “Now, please try to sleep, Carlos.”

  Carlos sighs softly.

  “I can’t seem to fall asleep,” he says after a while. “Sleep...it’s hard for me.”

  “Close your eyes,” I say gently and wait for him to do as I say. Carlos closes his eyes slowly. “Good. Now, think of a good place, it could be a favorite spot or memory.”

  “There’s none,” Carlos says tonelessly. “Sleep takes me back to the dark place I come from. In my nightmares, I have no control. The demons are always waiting to tear me apart. For me, sleep isn’t a reprieve from the pain. It’s a path to its source.”

  “But you really need to sleep right now,” I say with a sigh. “Surely, there must be something you like to think about.”

  “There is,” Carlos says, opening his eyes to look at me.

  “What?” I ask, almost eagerly.

  “You,” he replies simply.

  I swallow my surprise and sit up a little straighter. It must be the fever talking...right? And the skipping rhythm of my heart has nothing to do with the sincerity I read in his eyes...Not at all.

  “I like to think about you,” Carlos continues weakly. “I thought about you all night last night.”

  I bite my fingernails, desperately thinking of what to say. “Would you like me to sing to you?” I blurt out. “A lullaby. Beth sings for me whenever I have a nightmare, and it seems to work. I understand if you don’t–.”

  “Yes, please,” he says, interrupting my rant. “I’d like you to sing for me, Abby.”

  The way he says my name...I don’t know if it’s the low timbre of his voice or the exotic huskiness, but my heart skips a beat each time my name escapes his lips. I can’t even explain the strange feelings I have.

  Carlos seems expectant, so I start to sing an old tune that my Mom used to sing to Beth and me at bedtime when we were little. His eyes hold mine, the sides of his mouth pulled up in a mysterious smile. I drown willingly in the magnificent pools of his stormy dark eyes.

  He stretches out his hand, so it’s resting lightly on my thigh. “Hold my hand, Abby,” he says. “Please,” he adds when he sees my reluctance.

  I’m not immune to the plea in his eyes. So, despite myself, I take his hand in mine.

  He immediately weaves his fingers tightly with mine. We stay like that for what seems like a long time. And even when his breathing has slowed, indicating he has finally fallen asleep, Carlos still holds on tightly to my hand.

  I place my free palm gently against his chest, consoling myself with its steady rising and falling.

  And although he’s fast asleep, I continue to sing. I’m scared if I don’t, he will somehow slip back into that dark place he mentioned. It’s my job as his nurse to ensure that his pains are minimized to the barest level possible.

  This, whatever it is...It’s just a part of my job. Right?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Carlos

  I take the stairs one at a time, holding on to the railings for support. I hold in the urge to groan at the consistent pain in my upper body.

  My nurse has explicitly warned me to stay in bed, but the urge to look into those gorgeous, expressive eyes has won over common sense.

  I crave the fire behind the nervousness in her gaze whenever she’s around me. I’m sure she won’t be pleased, and I can’t wait to tease the anger away.

  Her eyes will flash prettily, then soften to a reluctant amusement. It’s only been two days since I met her, less than that really, but it almost seems like I’ve known her forever.

  She calms my soul and stirs my body. It scares me, the depths of my feelings for this woman. Abby appears at the bottom of the stairs. She freezes when she spots me like she can’t believe her eyes.

  “Wh...What are you doing?” Abby asks, blinking in surprise.

  I start to take another step, and she quickly runs up the stairs to my side. She lifts my arm and places it around her neck, oblivious to how heady her sweet scent makes me feel.

  “I told you to stay in bed,” Abby fusses. “You are not yet strong enough to be walking about like this.”

  I let out a small groan, more from the fire ignited from the feel of her body against mine than the insistent ache in my chest. “My room is beginning to feel stuffy from having to stay in bed all day,” I say. “I just needed some air.”

  “Your room is bigger than my entire apartment,” Abby says, rolling her eyes at me unamused. “How can it ever be stuffy? Wait. Lean on me. I’ll help you down the stairs.”

  It’s funny how she’s so confident about being able to support my weight when I tower over her petite height. I humor her, though, careful not to burden her with all of my weight. “Thank you,” I murmur.

  Abby helps me down the stairs, slowly, and into the living room. She holds me while I lower myself onto a couch and fusses over me till she feels I’m comfortable enough.

  “Thank you, Abby,” I say to her with a genuine smile of appreciation.

  She answers with a little nod and settles on the couch opposite mine. “It’s no biggie.”

  “What were you doing?” I ask in a conversational tone after a while.

  Abby shrugs. “I wanted to catch up on the news that I’ve missed over the past two days, so I came down here to surf the TV.” She gestures to the television with a nostalgic smile. “But I got caught up on this channel. They’re playing random songs from the 80s, and it just comes with this feeling of going back in time. You know? I can’t seem to... I’m sorry. You asked me a simple question, but I started to ramble. Again. Do you... um... Want anything?”

  I chuckle and shake my head slowly in amusement. I like it when she rambles on like that. In those moments, she’s unguarded and cutely animated. In those brief unshielded moments, I get to see deeper into her person.

  But telling her my thoughts will only push her further into her shell, so I lean back on the couch and pretend to watch the T.V while I watch her mouth the lyrics to the song playing on the screen.

  I’ve never met somebody like Abby. Fiery yet calm. Gorgeous and absolutely oblivious. Innocently charming and innately pure. Her beauty isn’t only physical, it seems to radiate from an inner place within her. Maybe it’s why I’m so attracted to her; the fact that this woman possesses a rare essence that connects with something deep within me.

  It’s hard to explain – and more than a little bit frustrating.

  “Can I have a cup of coffee?” I ask after a while, just to draw her attention away from the television and to me.

  “No...” Abby says apologetically like it’s her fault that I can’t drink coffee. “It’s really not advisable to take caffeine until you’re completely healed. I... I can fix you a glass of mineral water, if you don’t mind, though.”

  “No, I’m fine,” I say with a sigh. “Thanks.” Abby nods quietly and returns her attention back to the TV.

  “Oh my God... It’s The Temptations song, My Girl,” she says excitedly as the familiar tune fills the living room.

  “This is a classic,” I say with a fond smile, wishing that I was well enough to ask her to dance. She’d probably politely refuse while sporting a shy blush, but I can be pretty insistent. “I couldn’t choose a favorite between My Girl and The Way You Do the Thing You Do,” I add.

  “You like The Temptations?” Abby asks in disbelief.

  “Of course,” I tell her. “They are my all-time favorite. Even now.” I pause and then continue, “You know...When I was young, this small music store was just around the corner in my neighborhood. Old Joe, the owner, was a fan and used to play their songs all the time. Somehow, I connected with their lyrics and melody. Back then, I hung around old Joe’s music store whenever I wasn’t busy trying to survive. For my fourteenth birthday, I got myself all their albums I could lay my hands on. I was so excited. I did all kinds of jobs to get that money, but it was worth spending it all in the blink of an eye.”