Three Little Mistakes

by Nikki Sloane

  Once we got to my place, Noemi pulled off her coat and headed straight for my bathroom, her body language making it clear she wanted space. If it had been another circumstance, I wouldn’t have allowed her distance or lack of communication, but I sensed not to push.

  “Do you need anything? Want me to come in with you?” I asked.

  “No.” Her voice was firm. “You seriously think I’m in the mood right now?”

  “I didn’t mean I wanted to fuck you.” I fought to stay in control of my emotions. “I was asking if you wanted help.”

  She tried to shake her head and winced. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be a bitch.”

  “You don’t have to apologize. You want to get in alone, I understand. Call for me if you change your mind.”

  Without a word, she vanished into the bathroom and closed the door.

  I took off my suitcoat and hung it in the closet, then went to the living room and sat down with my iPad. There were work emails to go through, schedules of upcoming shows to approve, and a request for a new sous chef to be hired at the restaurant. My mind wandered as I tried to read them and work, but the girl in my shower was always my focus.

  I was in love with her.

  The sickening sound of the crash had snapped my heart into two, and her voice afterward had sewn it back together, a piece of her inside. I was supposed to wait. I wasn’t supposed to tell her until she knew all of who I was, but I couldn’t. Life was too short. My feet carried me swiftly to the bathroom door, my heart racing.

  I knocked my knuckles on the wood. “Noemi?”

  “Fuck off.”

  What the hell? “Excuse me?”

  There was no answer.

  The only sound was the constant stream of the shower running. I grabbed the doorknob and turned, only to discover it was locked.

  “Noemi, answer me.”

  But she didn’t.

  “Open the goddamn door.”

  Still nothing. My airway cut off and I stared at the doorknob, hurrying through my options.

  “Open the fucking door, now.”

  My blood pressure roared in my ears, right along with the sirens telling me to get inside the bathroom by any means necessary. Something was very wrong, and I didn’t have time to figure out where the key was. I lifted my foot and kicked just to the side of the doorknob, putting everything I had into it.

  The doorjamb splintered and broke from the wall as it gave way and the door swung open. I hurled myself into the bathroom across the tile, straight to the fogged glass door, and yanked it open.

  She was sitting naked on the floor of the shower with her back against the wall and her knees pulled to her chest, the water cascading down her head and drenching her. When I opened the door, her head tipped back and she glared up at me with fire I’d never seen from her. But that wasn’t what sent my heart to my feet.

  Her left eye wasn’t the hazel color I loved—it was enormously black, her pupil blown to hell.

  chapter

  TWENTY-NINE

  My knees splashed to the tile and water soaked into my pants as I knelt beside her. “Shit, Noemi!” I tugged her into my arms, but she fought me.

  “Leave me alone!” Her hand lashed out, and the sting against my cheek was shocking.

  “Oh, fuck, baby girl,” I wrapped my hands around her wrists, urging her to stop. “Jesus, please.” She struggled against me as I dragged her from the shower. Noemi was gone. This was some wild, vicious creature.

  Adrenaline made my hand shake as I dialed 911 and spat out my address, explaining what had happened. I was sick to my stomach, yelling at them to send someone immediately. I was sure I used profanity in spades, but I was out of my mind with fear, and everything was moving too fast.

  “Please, Noemi,” I begged, trying to get a shirt or pants on her.

  “Stay the fuck away from me!”

  I had a black robe on a hook and yanked it down, and she left me no choice. I twisted her arm behind her back and forced her into it. Her cry of pain was a knife in my chest. The robe was too big, but at least she wasn’t naked or wet anymore. I locked her in my arms as she bucked against my hold, and I whispered to her. I begged her to calm down, told her she was going to be all right, and that she was safe with me.

  “I love you,” I said, feeling broken.

  She didn’t acknowledge it. Karma was a cruel bitch.

  It was a blur after that. At some point I’d moved her to the living room and propped the front door open, and paramedics arrived. I stood to the side as she was strapped struggling to a stretcher, and followed alongside her, all the way down into the ambulance, past the people gawking on the sidewalk.

  I sat on the bench by her head and put my hand on her shoulder, trying to stay out of the medics’ way, but desperate to do something besides answer the medics’ questions about her head injury, which I hadn’t witnessed. I should have fucking made her go to the emergency room. My job was to keep her safe and I’d failed her spectacularly.

  “Fuck you,” she spat out, but whether it was to me or the paramedic placing an IV in her arm, was unclear.

  “Which hospital are we going to? Cook County?” I asked the guy who didn’t look much older than she did, but he was far more calm and in control than me. He slid the needle into her vein easily, while the ambulance took a corner hard. I had to brace a hand on the side to stay steady.

  It felt like a lifetime before we reached the emergency room bay, and I was escorted to the waiting room. I fucking hated hospitals. The smell of disinfectant, the noises, and the chill that hung in the air. I shivered, still damp from pulling Noemi from the shower, and I never grabbed a coat. I stared at the phone in my hand, too confused to remember what I was supposed to do. Shit. I scrolled through the contacts and hit send.

  “Rosso Media Group, this is Kristen.”

  “I need to speak with Mr. Rosso, and it’s urgent.”

  “Who’s calling, please?”

  “Tell him his daughter is in the hospital. Cook County’s ER.”

  My finger tapped “END CALL.” Who knew what was going to come out of my mouth if I stayed on the line? I folded myself into one of the nearby chairs and pulled up my Internet browser. Jesus, let her be all right. I wouldn’t get immediate answers from the hospital staff, so I began to research what was most likely happening to her.

  It was two hours, the longest of my life, and I shot to my feet when the desk called for the people waiting for Noemi Rosso. The nurse guided me through the corridors of triage rooms, until knocking on one and pushing it open.

  Noemi rested in the angled bed, wires and tubes snaking out to her monitoring equipment. The sight was a punch to the gut and I willed myself not to double over. And then, relief swelled and burst inside me when her eyes blinked at me with recognition.

  “Joseph,” her voice was concerned, “what the hell happened?”

  I hurried to her bedside as the nurse lingered at the doorway. “The doctor will be with you shortly.” The door thudded shut as she left.

  “I don’t remember how I got here,” Noemi said, her gaze scanning the room and returning to me.

  “Do you remember the car accident?”

  “No,” she gasped. “Is your overpriced car okay?”

  It took me a second. “No, my car . . . you were in a cab. You don’t remember that?”

  Her gaze dropped down to her hands in her lap and the medical bands around her wrists. “No. I remember being in class, and—that’s it. What happened?”

  I took her small hand in mine, then explained it as quickly as possible, my fingers stroking hers gently. I told her what I’d heard on the call, how she’d argued about coming to my place, and how I’d pulled her from the shower. “I’m so sorry, Noemi.”

  “For what?”

  “I should have made you go to the hospital. And I should have fucking noticed something was wrong sooner.”

  “Stop it,” she whispered. It was so unnerving to see her eyes at different pupil
ratios, but she was talking again. She sounded like herself. “What would have happened if you’d let me go home like I wanted?”

  The thought had occurred to me soon after I’d taken a seat in the waiting room and I’d driven it away. “I don’t want to think about that. How are you feeling?”

  “My head hurts. A lot.”

  I cupped her cheek as delicately as possible, and used my thumb to brush away the tear that fell. Then, another, until there were too many.

  “I don’t know why I’m crying.” She wiped at her face, horrified. “I can’t stop.”

  “It’s mood swings. It’s okay.”

  There was a brief knock and the doctor came in, a short, frumpy woman with a no-nonsense hairstyle and matching attitude. She went over the MRI results that didn’t show any bleeding, but wanted to admit Noemi for observation for at least another day until the symptoms were gone.

  “Plenty of rest,” the doctor warned, then looked at me. “She’s going to have periods where she’s confused, or dizzy, or irritable. We’ll monitor the swelling and hopefully she’ll be back to full cognitive function in a week.”

  “School?” Noemi asked feebly.

  The doctor shook her head. “No. You need to give your body time to recover.”

  Disappointment washed over Noemi, but if she tried to push herself with this, I’d make it an order. The asshole in me found the concept of spending a week in bed with her appealing. Maybe a little torturous, but I could deal.

  The doctor left when all of our questions were answered, and I sat beside Noemi on the bed, waiting for the nurses to come move her to a room upstairs.

  Her voice was soft and warm. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

  I gave a sad smile. “I know. There are easier ways of getting my attention, little girl.” I leaned over the bed, ignoring the beeping machines that reminded me of a time I never wanted to think about, and set my lips cautiously on hers.

  Behind me, the door swung open. I wasn’t about to let the nurse interrupt this moment between us. A man cleared his throat, and she broke off the kiss to glance at him.

  “Dad.”

  My lungs refused to work. The moment was inevitable. I’d expected him hours ago, when I could have explained to him privately, but he never fucking showed up.

  “I was on my way to New York when they called, and I had them turn the plane around,” Rosso said. “This is the boyfriend?”

  I watched her face as she smiled at me and then glanced to her father, and I hoped it wasn’t the last time I’d see her look at me that way.

  “Yes,” she said. “This is Joseph Monsato.”

  I rose and turned, my gaze finding him quickly. His mouth hung open and eyes filled with pure disbelief. All the emotions ran visibly through him, competing for dominance. Confusion. Anger. Fear. The perfect blend rose to the surface and his hands clenched into fists.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded.

  “We should talk outside.”

  “Get the fuck away from my daughter.”

  “Dad,” Noemi said. “He’s my boyfriend.”

  All that did was make him angrier, and his swift approach had me preparing for a punch to come flying my direction. He didn’t know me outside the club, and didn’t know me well there, either. He had to assume I was scum, unworthy of his daughter, which was true.

  “Please,” I said, although I put force behind my words. “Let’s talk outside. Noemi has a concussion.”

  His face was flushed as he grabbed the front of my shirt and hauled me into his face. “Did you do that to her?”

  “No.”

  “Dad, stop! He saved my life!”

  Her panicked words brought him to a halt. Wild, dangerous eyes glared at me. Hazel, like hers.

  “I was in a car accident in a cab,” she continued, “and he came and got me. If I’d gone home alone, I’d probably be dead.”

  There was a stab of pain in my chest at her words, and Rosso turned, shoving me back. He positioned his body between us, trying to block her from view.

  “Get out,” he ordered.

  She was breathing hard and her head had to be pounding terribly. “What is going on? Are you that upset because of Katzenberg?”

  Rosso glanced at her, confused. “What?”

  “No, Noemi.” My voice was resigned. “This doesn’t have anything to do with Katzenberg.” I should have told her, right from the start.

  “I don’t understand,” she said.

  “I don’t, either,” Rosso snarled. “Do you know how bad it would be if this got out, Noemi?”

  “No. She doesn’t know.” I moved to the right so I could see her. “I’m sorry. I was going to explain.”

  Her expression was cautious. “What don’t I know?”

  “He runs a whorehouse.” Her father sneered. “That’s where all his money comes from.”

  I glared right back at Rosso. Most of it’s yours, asshole.

  “Or so I’m told,” he added, his voice wavering, but I doubt she noticed.

  Her first reaction was this was a joke. Her lips curled into a faint smile, the word ridiculous probably on her lips, but the smile slowly died when I didn’t deny it. She stared at me, silently demanding my rebuttal, but I had none I wanted to do in front of her father. Please, baby girl, let me explain. Don’t judge me until you hear all of it.

  There was no upside to revealing how her father knew about the blindfold club, other than bringing him down with me. Petty revenge, but she adored her father. I didn’t want to hurt her more than I already had.

  Her voice was severe. “Joseph. What is he talking about?”

  I kept my posture stiff despite the desire to sag my shoulders. “My wine club . . . it’s a front.”

  Jesus, this was too much to put on her damaged mind. Her eyes blinked and tears rolled down her cheeks, but there was no soft cry. Her shoulders didn’t move. She brushed the tears away like they were a minor nuisance.

  “Payton,” she said, her voice barely a breath. “You . . . Oh, God. She was one of your whores?”

  That was a word we didn’t use at the club, an unspoken rule. When Dominic said it to Payton, it had made my blood run cold. “She worked for me, yes.” My gaze burned into Rosso, who refused to meet it.

  “You’re a . . .” the word came out sounding foreign, “pimp?”

  “Let me explain to you, alone.”

  Rosso shook his head. “No. Get out before I have you removed.”

  Her expression turned hard and cold. “Answer the question.”

  It wasn’t the title I liked assigned to me. I oversaw negotiations between clients and service providers, often in excess of thousands of dollars, but when you boiled it down, I was just a guy selling pussy. “Yes.”

  “How could you not . . .” She swallowed hard. “Do you love me?”

  “I—” Yes, but under her father’s terrible scrutiny, I struggled. I did not want to say that to her for what would be her first time, while in this situation. I went with the first thing I could, a terrible, little mistake. “I care about you so much.”

  Her face crumbled and her head turned away from mine, a soft whimper of pain at the action, and it was crushing. Watching the effect of my mistake as it destroyed her, destroyed me as well.

  “Please go.”

  “You’re going to let me explain,” I said, desperate.

  Her choked voice just got it out. “No.”

  “Noemi,” I growled. “Just wait a minute.”

  Her head lolled back, and eyes full of fire stared me down. “No. Stop. You said it was a word you’d always respect. Leave, Joseph.”

  “Please, think about this, baby girl.”

  “I am.” Her voice was colder than steel. “I’m thinking about the brand.”

  Everything was hazy as I rode in the cab back to my apartment. I wanted to believe it wasn’t real, but then there was the fucking bathroom door I’d broken down, all askew and wood splinters on
my tile floor.

  My club was gone. Tonight Julius would run things from my office with Payton’s assistance—no, he’d oversee the business from his office. And Noemi was gone. The icy cold judgment in her eyes was too much. I couldn’t push her. She was injured and her emotions were scattered. When she got better, she’d come back to hear my side, I convinced myself.

  Nothing lasts forever.

  I wanted to punch the wall, but instead I went into the bathroom, my feet crunching on the dust, and began to clean up. I was exhausted, both emotionally and physically, and everything ached. My throat burned and I put my hands on my neck to massage the—

  Holy.

  Shit.

  My stomach bottomed out. No. No.

  My hands shook as I set them on the counter and leaned over the sink, bringing my face close to the mirror. As I turned my head to the side, it forced the small, little lump to protrude on my neck.

  A swollen lymph node.

  chapter

  THIRTY

  NOEMI

  I hadn’t spoken to Joseph in twelve days. He called at least four times daily, but that lessened to three after I’d been out of the hospital a week. The scene in the emergency room haunted me. “I care about you so much.”

  Not enough to tell me the truth, though.

  I’d thought Sensible Noemi was dead. I hadn’t heard from her in weeks until that afternoon. She roared back to life when Joseph’s secret was revealed, taking control back. If Joseph’s brothel had been discovered, my bad boy would have gone to prison, and it would have ruined me. No one wanted a CEO who was involved in that kind of seediness. Public opinion would have deemed me too stupid to know what he was doing, or worse, in on it with him.

  He sold sex.

  I hated him and I loved him. He’d said I was too smart to fall in love, but no. Obviously I was incredibly stupid and a fucking fool. He’d made me a disappointment in my father’s eyes, too.

  Joseph was persistent, I had to give him that. When the front desk wouldn’t allow him up, he said he’d wait, and they had him removed. He kept coming back, and my father got involved, telling security the next time Joseph appeared, to call the cops.