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She bolted upright, her heart pounding as she fished for it between the couch cushions. Thinking it was the hospital, she answered as she stood up and began looking for her keys. “Dr. Hawthorne speaking.”
“Angel, I need your help.”
Angela stopped her frantic movements, only for her heart to take off for a whole other reason. “Abel? What’s wrong? Is it Roman?” She blurted out, cursing herself for sounding so worried. She didn’t want him—or anyone else—to know how much she cared. Hell, she didn’t want to know much she cared.
“It’s not Roman,” came Abel’s quick reply. “I kidnapped someone.”
Angela pulled the phone from her ear and scowled down at it. Here she was worried about Roman and his crime family, and Abel had gone and kidnapped someone again. “Goodbye, Abel.” She hung up and tossed her cell onto the couch, shaking her head and grumbling to herself.
It rang again almost immediately. She considered not answering it, but she knew that wasn’t the best way to deal with Abel and his friends. She sighed, annoyed with herself, even as she picked up the ringing device. The name flashing on the screen wasn’t Abel, but Roman, and she cursed the way her body came alive just by the sight of his name. Which is why she was rather rude when she answered. “I’m not fucking interested, Roman. Find some other poor, unsuspecting doctor to embroil in your illegal activities.”
“Hello to you too, Angel.” Roman’s smooth voice came through the speaker loud and clear. “You’re already embroiled, and you know it,” he informed her calmly. “Besides, Abel insists only you can help.”
“Abel is misguided,” Angela snapped back.
“Sometimes,” Roman allowed. “But not this time. I agree with him. The woman he saw fit to steal off the streets had a panic attack. She passed out.”
“A woman?” Angela practically screeched. “Abel went and kidnapped another woman? What the hell, Roman?!”
“I know. I’ll be having words with him, I assure you,” Roman promised darkly. “But in the meantime, will you please come and check on her? Abel is worried about her. Which means I am worried about her.”
Angela had to give the man credit. He looked after his family. An injury to them was an injury to him. But then, that was the mafia for you. “And I’m supposed to care?” Angela finally replied. The sexy chuckle that came through the phone had her gritting her teeth and squeezing her legs together. She suspected the man could make her come with his voice alone. But she wasn’t willing to test the theory, so she quickly reprimanded him. “It’s not funny, Roman. Kidnapping is not a joke.”
“I agree with you. That’s not what I found amusing,” Roman said. “It’s you, Angel, who is so entertaining. Because we both know that you do indeed care. Abel is your new bestie, and you have coffee with Luca and Salvatore at least once a week. You’re not fooling anyone.”
Angela gasped. “Abel is not my bestie!”
The mere thought was ludicrous. So what if she and Abel shared a love of trashy reality TV and gourmet food? It wasn’t her fault Roman had ordered his second-in-command to follow her around everywhere. She was merely making the best of the situation, that’s all. And so what if she enjoyed a hot coffee and a quick bite with Luca and Sal? They were an adorable couple and easy to talk to. But it didn’t mean she cared about any of them. At all. She saw to their medical needs for the money. Full stop.
“Uh-huh. Whatever you say,” came Roman’s dry reply. “Can you please come? It’s been ten minutes, and she hasn’t woken up.”
Ten minutes was a decent amount of time to be unconscious from a fainting spell, Angela thought. She chewed her lip for a moment, eyeing the medical bag she had dropped by her front door.
“You came when Abel got delirious from chickenpox,” Roman reminded her.
“Of course, I came. I felt guilty for lying about his dick falling off,” Angela replied briskly.
Two months earlier, Abel had called her in a panic, much the same as he had done just minutes ago. His beloved dick had sported spots, and his high fever had convinced him it was about to peel off—just as she had predicted. Sure, it was funny. And wonderful payback. But her darn doctor guilt had kicked in and she had rushed over to ensure it wasn’t anything more sinister. It meant she had now seen Roman’s dick and Abel’s. And though Abel’s cock was longer than Roman’s, it did not spark the same amount of lust. She was still seeing Roman’s cock with its silver jewelry in her dreams almost nightly. It pissed her off.
“It’s not illegal to have chickenpox, though, Roman,” she pointed out. “It is illegal to kidnap people. When we made our deal, it was for medical emergencies only. No crime shit.” But she was already slipping her shoes back on. Her feet protested, and she cast a quick glance at the clock hanging on the wall in her living room. Two hours. She had been asleep for two hours, which apparently was not enough time for her soles to recover.
Deciding she would rather be comfortable than fashionable; she went with the soft purple slippers next to her work shoes instead. Her feet practically sighed when she slipped them on. She then picked up her bag and headed out the door.
“You’re already on your way, aren’t you, Angel?”
Roman’s voice was soft, almost a purr, igniting the desire that was always lying dormant in her system where the crime lord was concerned. But it was the smug tone that had her hanging up without responding. “Damn sexy, know-it-all thug,” she grumbled as she made her way down the stairs in her building and to her car.
The trip took all of ten minutes. She lived ridiculously close to the Omertà building—another source of annoyance to her. Because it meant Roman was always close. It was knowledge she could have done without. Especially since her sex drive was up and running again. She went through periods of time when sex was more of an inconvenience than anything else. She was busy and tired, and the last thing she wanted was to get naked with someone. She didn’t resent the dry spells. On the contrary, she was grateful for them. Sometimes, sex was just more trouble than it was worth.
But then, there were other times when she felt the need to bang her stress out on some willing, random male. They were always random because she had a thing about intimacy. She had no desire to get to know the men she screwed. She considered it therapy—a coping mechanism for a shitty day at work. It had nothing to do with getting to know someone or making a commitment. Not that she’d so much as entertained the idea of sex with anyone in the past three months. At least, not with anyone whose name wasn’t Roman anyway.
The past two months since agreeing to Roman’s proposition had flown by. It had also gone rather smoothly. She really wasn’t needed that often, and only for minor things. Nothing like when Luca was injured, which she was grateful for. Still, Roman was true to his word, paying her exorbitantly whenever she provided medical assistance at Omertà.
Ten stitches to one of his employees netted her twenty thousand dollars, and a concussion diagnosis garnered her ten thousand. The money went directly to the Lighthouse and Sister Philomena. Roman and Luca set up a direct deposit system. Angela didn’t question it and wasn’t privy to the specifics. They had liaised directly with Sister Pip, who assured Angela the money was being received and everything was above board. That was all she cared about.
She used her pass to gain access to the underground parking garage and quickly parked in her reserved spot. It was right next to the elevator. She used the same pass to get her up to the fiftieth floor where the medical suite was. She nodded her head, smiling politely at familiar faces as she passed, marveling at the turn her life had taken since that fateful night three months ago. The shelter was thriving, with new repairs happening daily, and Angela was happier than she had been in a long time. She chose not to look into that fact too deeply.
She entered the clinic, where Roman was waiting for her. Her heart gave a curious thump and her stomach lurched. She chose not to investigate that either.
