Page 20 of Trapped By the Bratva
“Be reasonable,” I shot back.
But they all filed out, leaving me with this young woman. I grunted, determined to keep up the walls and ban her from mattering. “How old are you?”
“Younger than you.”
I narrowed my eyes as she continued to check my back. “Answer me.”
“Does it matter how old I am?”
“If you’re not qualified to assist—fuck!” I caught my breath from her swift repositioning of my shoulder. “What the hell was that for?”
She massaged the scar tissue around my shoulder blade. “You’re not doing your therapy exercises, are you?”
“Do you even know what you’re doing?” I held in a groan at the kneading pressure that felt too damn good. It hurt but also helped. A necessary pain. I’d be damned if I gave her the satisfaction of knowing it felt awesome.
“I do know what I’m doing. I don’t have my credentials, but I’m trained in therapy on top of the nursing skills expected of an RN.”
I bit my lip, declining to respond as she rubbed the tension.
“I’m twenty-one,” she added. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
“And I have been doing my exercise, not that it’s any of your fucking business either.”
“It is if I’m expected to help you.”
“I don’t need your help,” I shot back, knowing how inaccurate my uncensored claim was. I did. I just didn’t want to require anything of her. Her sweet, clean scent messed with my head. The nearness of her tits taunted me to peel back her shirt and see if her nipples were dusky pink like I bet they were. And her hands on me… It was therapeutic but also somehow arousing.
Until that moment, I hadn’t realized how long it had been since a woman had really touched me.
“Shut up and just do as I say, Dmitri.”
I bit the corner of my lip, dragging my stare to hers. Amused that she thought she had any authority over me, I enjoyed how her calm expression faltered into a frown.
“Do as you say,” I repeated. It should have been a question.
“Yeah,” she said, defiant as ever.
I couldn’t look away, mesmerized by the challenge in her stare.
We’ll see aboutthat, Darling.
I decided I’d teach her a lesson about who was in charge here.
7
HANNAH
“He really needs constant supervision.”
I thought back to Becca’s words and realized that I’d misinterpreted them. Dmitri Valkov wasn’t a decrepit old man at the end of his life. The man in the bed was weak and scarred, but he wasn’t vulnerable, without power.
This would not be an easy job like I had assumed it would be.
He was angry. Combative. With every glance he gave me, full of loathing and frustration, I knew this would be a challenge. He would test me at every turn. It didn’t help that he was already trying to reject me and get me out of this position.
But he didn’t know how much I needed it. The money was a huge perk I couldn’t pass on. The chance to run away from my sister was too good to give up.
Go on. Give me your worst.Desperation and determination would keep me right here, offering him whatever help I could give. Hedidneed it. I felt the tight knots of scar tissue around his injuries. The surgeons who stitched him up did a good job, but being sewn up was only one step of the recovery process.
