Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 151410 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 757(@200wpm)___ 606(@250wpm)___ 505(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151410 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 757(@200wpm)___ 606(@250wpm)___ 505(@300wpm)
He trusts you enough with his child, a small voice amended. But I shushed that voice immediately because it was the same one that had made me fall for him in the first place.
“Not for long, just until I figure something out. You’re moving into your own place soon. It’ll be easier to hide the kid there than in my room in the mansion.”
He stepped closer, too close. I tilted my head back to meet his gaze. His dark eyes captured me like they always did.
I hate him. I hate him.
But part of me loved him, every twisted, psychotic part of him. Nevio was a lost cause. Everyone knew it.
“Rory, I need your help and so does he. Your internship with our doc will give you enough time to take care of him.”
“Don’t,” I growled. “Don’t play the emotional card, or the best friends card. You’ve lost either privilege.”
“Then don’t help me! I’ll drop him off in front of a hospital like I should have done right away. He’ll be better off without me.”
“You mean you’ll be better off without him. Be honest, you don’t want the responsibility.”
We both breathed harshly. I swallowed, trying to control my emotions. I wasn’t sure how much a child that age could understand but he’d definitely pick up on our raised voices. “What about all the times when I’m working in the clinic? He’s not a dog. You can’t leave him alone for a few hours. He needs constant care.”
Why was I even discussing this? I couldn’t take care of a little boy. I was eighteen. I wasn’t ready for this level of responsibility. This was Nevio’s responsibility, not mine.
Nevio shrugged. “I could watch him on occasion.”
“On occasion? He’s your son!” The boy winced against me, and I cleared my throat. “If I help you, I expect you to step up and really make an effort to take care of him. And this can only be a temporary thing. You’ll have to figure out a way to tell your parents. You’ll need their help with this.”
Nevio briefly glanced at the boy, his reluctance obvious. “If that’s what it takes. I can sleep at your place now and then to help you with him. I had every intention to keep a close eye on you anyway.”
Fury raced through my veins. “Carlotta will be there. I’ll have to tell her. I need her help for this.”
God, was I really agreeing to this nonsense? I had to be out of my mind. And having Nevio sleep over was definitely a very bad idea. The boy shuddered against me, and I focused on him. His well-being was top priority right now. Everything else could wait. “We should take him to a doctor now.”
Nevio opened the back door of his car. I glanced at Dinara’s pickup, which I’d driven here.
“I’ll tell Massimo or Alessio to pick it up.”
With a nod, I sat down in the back with the boy on my lap while Nevio googled pediatricians. The boy was silent and still against my chest, breathing very low.
“Is he asleep?” I asked when Nevio slipped behind the steering wheel. He glanced over his shoulder. “No, he’s just staring straight ahead. But he looks like he might be falling asleep soon.”
“Drive carefully. He’s not in a child seat.”
Nevio did drive more considerately than his usual style but my heart was pounding madly in my chest when we finally came to a stop in front of a pediatric practice. It had been a longer drive than I would have liked, over an hour.
It was two minutes after their closing hours and I could see a nurse closing up the door.
“Let me go in first. I’ll give you a sign when it’s okay to come in,” Nevio said and slipped out of the car before I could argue. There was only one reason he didn’t want me inside with him right away. He would be threatening the doctor and nurses, and knowing Nevio, he’d succeed.
Fifteen minutes later, Nevio opened the door again and waved for me to come. Getting out of a car with a child in your hold was harder than I’d thought. Nevio jogged over to me and grabbed my arm to steady me. When I was safely on the ground on my own two feet, I pulled away from his grip and headed into the practice. Nevio stayed close to my side.
Inside, a middle-aged male doctor with salt-and-pepper hair waited for us. Behind him stood an obviously terrified older nurse. The doctor also appeared apprehensive but was better at keeping his composure, for which I had to applaud him, considering Nevio’s talent for scare tactics.
The little boy clung to me when we stepped into one of the treatment rooms. “What’s his name?” he asked.
I glanced at Nevio. This was a mess. The boy needed a name, preferably his real name, if he even had one. The situation was horrible. Maybe his birth mother had never bothered to actually name him. My eyes burned, considering the possibility.