The Alpha's Assistant & The Dom Next Door

by Michelle Love

The rising sun has me blinking and pulling on sunglasses at six in the morning. The manager is coming in as the three men and I are leaving after the all-night audit we managed to pass.

  She gives me a look as she comes to the door we’re leaving. “What’s going on?”

  One of the men hands her a paper. “Here’s a copy of our findings. You passed. You have yourself a very competent night manager. Keep up the good work.”

  “I want the night off,” I tell her as I go to my car.

  “You got it!” she shouts after me. “Take the next three nights off. And thanks!”

  I’m a zombie as I go to my car and drive out to my house. I’m going to shower and change then call that hospital and find out if Cyprian woke up. If he did, I’ll talk to him over the phone then sleep. If he didn’t wake up, I’ll go up to the hospital.

  I keep thinking this is my fault, somehow. Maybe the stress of our breakup caused it. I’m a scientist, I know that’s not very plausible but stress can do some weird shit to the body.

  An experiment with lab rats where there was a very dominate female had all the other females becoming infertile as she was so aggressive to them anytime a male was introduced into their enclosure. It was weird but true.

  Going into my house, I find my body trying to give up on me. My eyes go to my bed and my body migrates to it. “No! Cyprian’s in a bad spot. Come on!”

  I shake my head to ward off the exhaustion and go to the shower. It helps me refresh and wake up some. I hurry to bathe then get out and throw on jeans and a T-shirt then slip on some sandals. My hair has to be tamed a bit, so I put it into a clip to hold my wild curls down. Then I leave the bathroom and find my phone.

  The damn battery is dead so I plug it into the charger and make myself some coffee as it charges up, so I can turn it on. The pot is shaking in my hand as I fill it with water.

  Suddenly, I’m overwhelmed by sorrow and slowly, go to the floor, leaving the coffee pot in the sink as I start crying. “Why didn’t I answer his calls?”

  Have I missed any chance of ever hearing his voice again? Have I missed any chance of ever having him in my life? What have I done?

  My phone makes a beep as it comes back on. I pull myself up and turn the water off and go back to my phone and find the number to the hospital. “AnMed, how can I direct your call?” a woman answers the phone.

  “I need to ask about a patient.”

  The phone makes some clicking noises then another woman answers, “Patient care.”

  “Hello, I’m wanting to know if Cyprian Girard has woken up yet,” I blurt out.

  “And you are who to him?” she asks with a professional tone.

  “His girlfriend.” I cross my fingers.

  “Oh. Um, well. I can’t tell you anything more than what room he’s in. His family has asked that of us.”

  “Give me his room number.” I pick up a pen and write 228, on my hand, when she gives it to me. “Thanks.”

  Dropping the pen, I grab my purse and keys and head out to the hospital. It’s about forty minutes away.

  A long as hell forty minutes…

  Chapter 7

  CYPRIAN

  Bright light filters through beige curtains, a steady beep is near my head, filling my ears as antiseptic stings my nose. “I made it,” I croak out.

  The pain was unbearable. I asked Aston to take me to the hospital but he thought it would be better if an ambulance came to get me. He called my father and he got to me before the ambulance did.

  I called Cami more times than I can remember. She never answered any of my calls. I guess she’s done with me. And I cannot blame her.

  “Hey there,” a soft voice calls out to me.

  I turn my head to find a nurse, in pink scrubs coming into my room. “Hi,” I say and find my throat is so dry.

  She smiles and picks up a cup of water with a straw in it and gives me a drink. “The IV is keeping you hydrated but it can’t help the mouth stay that way. How’s the pain level, Mr. Girard?”

  I recall the paramedics asking me that and telling them to register it between one and ten. It was a ten when they had me. “A five.” I point to my side. “Here is where it hurts.”

  She nods. “That’s where they made the incision to take out that pesky appendix that ruptured on you a couple of nights ago. That will no longer bother you.”

  “What did I do to make it give up on me?” I ask as I don’t recall ever finding that out in the past. “What makes them rupture?”

  “There’s nothing you could’ve done to prevent it from happening. It just happens to some people, not all. There’s no way to tell. You can be sure it won’t happen again, though. It’s outta there!” She laughs and checks my machines. “You gave your family quite a scare with how long you took to wake up. They’ll be glad to see those pretty brown eyes, open.”

  “Did anyone else come to see me?” I ask her. “A beautiful young woman with curly black hair and dark blue eyes, perhaps?”

  Her green eyes droop at the corners as her lips form a straight line. “No. Would you like me to help you call that beautiful young woman?”

  “No,” I say then think twice about it. “Maybe.”

  She picks up the phone next to the bed. “Give me her number and I’ll call her for you.”

  “Is my cell phone here by any chance?” I ask. “I don’t have her number memorized.”

  She shakes her head. “There’s no cell phone in here. Sorry. Perhaps she’ll see the news when they report you woke up and come see you.”

  “I’m on the news?”

  She nods. “Yes, your story was. Clemson is waiting to hear you’ve woken up. Everyone will be so relieved. You had many worrying about you.”

  “Not many know me,” I say as I doubt her words.

  With a gesture to one side of me, she says, “Then where did all these get-well cards and flowers come from?”

  Turning my head, I see a ton of cards and flowers as well as balloons. “Wow!”

  “Yes, wow. So, I’m going to run out to the nurses’ station and deliver the good news and send your doctor in to see you. Should I call your father and mother? We have their numbers.”

  I nod and she leaves me. My heart thuds in my chest as I now know my story was on the news and Cami has not even checked on me.

  Somewhere, deep inside of me, I thought she would give a shit. I suppose what I did was so bad, she never wants to see me again. And it’s pretty obvious she doesn’t care if I’m alive or dead.

  It’s both good and bad to wake up alive. On the one hand, I have life. On the other, what good is it if you have to live it all alone?

  A man in dark blue scrubs comes into the room, looking pretty happy. “Hi, man am I glad to see those eyes open. Mr. Girard, I was the man who administered your anesthesia. When you didn’t wake up, you had my nerves frazzled.”

  “Sorry to do that to you,” I tell him then look out the window. “What time is it?”

  “A bit after seven in the morning. So, do you feel groggy at all?”

  “No, I’m sore and stiff but my mind is growing sharper with each passing moment.” And becoming more and more aware of how Cami really feels about me.

  She’s done with me. I should leave this town. If I run into her, it’ll just continue to fuck my head up.

  “Do you have anyone to help you at home, Mr. Girard?” he asks me as another man walks in with tan slacks and a gray button-down, a clipboard is in his hands.

  “I have my staff.”

  “Great,” the other man says. “I am Doctor Wilkins. I performed the surgery. You didn’t get to meet me. This guy had you out by the time I got to you. The procedure was complete and you will need to give yourself a full month to completely recover.”

  The nurse comes back in and takes over where the surgeon left off, “No heavy lifting. Nothing over 5 pounds. No tub baths. Showers only.”

  My father walks in and says, “How about sex, doc?”

  The nurse looks at him
then at me. “A month, I’m afraid.”

  The surgeon taps my leg to get my attention. “Seriously. None until you see your personal physician for your one-month post-op appointment. And that doctor will be the one who will release you or won’t. If you don’t take good care of the incision and do what the orders say, you will end up needing more time to recuperate.”

  I look back at the nurse as she pushes my hospital gown up so the doctor can inspect his handiwork. “By the look of those abs and the rest of you, it’d bet you make vigorous exercise part of your daily routine,” she says.

  “I do. An hour every day.” I smile at my commitment to keeping myself fit.

  “Yeah,” the surgeon says. “No more of that. Not until your doctor releases you. You can take small walks, no more than a half-mile. Then you can ease up to a mile.”

  The nurse takes over again. “No more than that.”

  “I know, I know. Until my personal physician releases me. Got it. Now, when can I get the heck out of here and go home?” I ask them all.

  “Are you sure you have adequate care at home?” the nurse asks. “Because we have many nurses who could take shifts, taking care of you at your home. Your father has told us you have a large estate and you could have constant care. If you have no one else to do that for you. You will need tons of help, Mr. Girard. I cannot express that enough.”

  “I’ll set it up, son. You’ll have nurses there to help you. Don’t worry,” my father says to me then my mother walks into the room too.

  “Cyprian, you’re awake!” She sounds so happy. She’s all over me, kissing my whole face.

  “Mother!” I say as I laugh. “You’ve never been so affectionate to me before.”

  She takes my hand and holds it to her cheek. “My baby wouldn’t wake up. I was a mess. A complete mess, Cyprian. Did I hear them talking about you needing nurses?”

  “You did. I think the staff will be enough. I don’t need any nurses. I’ll be fine.”

  “Nonsense,” Papa says as he steps up to the foot of my bed.

  I laugh a bit and find it hurts, so I stop.

  But the idea of having women all around me, living in my home has me worried.

  What will Cami think…?

  Chapter 8

  CAMILLA

  The smell of the sterile environment has me rubbing under my nose as it threatens to make me sneeze. Not many people are moving around yet as it’s still pretty early.

  I get onto the elevator, finding two more people getting on with me. I push in the 2 button and they each push in other floors. We get to mine first and I step off and look up and down the long hallway.

  Easing down the hallway, I try to settle my nerves by twisting my hands in front of me. It’s not helping.

  I know Cyprian will be glad to see me if he’s awake. If he’s not, I don’t know how I’ll cope with it. If I never hear his voice again, I don’t know what I’ll do.

  The numbers tick off as I walk down the hallway. I pass a room with someone crying with low and long moans. It’s heartbreaking. The door is slightly open and I can’t help but peek in and see an old man sitting by an old woman, who seems to be sleeping in the hospital bed. “Bertha, please come back to me,” he whispers.

  The sight and sound hurts my heart and it makes me wonder what I am willing to offer Cyprian if and when he wakes up. I see the numbers 228 on the next door, just across the hallway and my heart stops.

  Walking across, I listen at the closed door. “Don’t worry, son. You’ll be well taken care of. I’ll only hire the prettiest nurses to care for you.”

  I lean my ear on the door and listen harder. “Papa, you spoil me.”

  It’s Cyprian!

  He’s awake!

  And asking for nurses?

  “Only the best for our boy,” a woman says. I assume it’s his mother. “Only the prettiest.”

  I hear him laughing and shake my head as I was so damn worried. And for what?

  “I’ll get you a list of available nurses, Mr. Girard,” another woman says.

  “Pictures with their files, please,” the man I think is his father, says.

  Cyprian laughs again and I walk away. He doesn’t need me.

  Any woman will do…

  Book 7: The Sensualist

  Chapter 1

  CYPRIAN

  Pink and odd shades of green fill the sky outside the window of my hospital room. My father sits in one of the chairs, staring out the window, as do I.

  “A hurricane,” my father says. “You’re being so stubborn, Cyprian. A hurricane is coming and you’re being released in a couple of hours and instead of coming home with me, you’re choosing to go to your place and not even taking a nurse with you. Are you trying to kill yourself?”

  “No,” I tell him as I get off the bed and show him how well I’m getting around. “Look at me. It’s been two days and I barely feel a thing. I’m fine. And I’d rather ride out the storm at my place. I’ve called the staff and they have the necessary things in the house. Even if power is lost, I have a generator for the kitchen.”

  He turns his attention to me, instead of the foreboding evening sky. “It’s the idea of you being all alone, Cyprian. At least let me come over. I get it. You don’t want to be around women when you’re unable to perform because of your injury.”

  “It’s not that. It’s about my needing time alone. I’ve been going about things so very wrong. I’d like to get into my bed and read until I know how to make the changes I need to.”

  “This sudden urge to become someone different is annoying.” My father gets up and gets his cup of coffee. “I don’t understand it. The woman you were doing it for has lost interest in you. Can’t you see that? You’ve been in this hospital for five days and she’s not even made an inquiring call about you. She has to know you’re here. It was on the news.”

  I watch him take a sip of the coffee which is now cold. He makes a face and puts if back down. “Papa, you should leave. Go home. Relax and get ready for the storm to hit. They said it would be around ten or eleven tonight. Ashton is driving me home, anyway. He’s waiting outside for me. As soon as the doc comes to check on me, one last time, I’ll be set free.”

  He nods and picks up his jacket. “I’m not making any headway with you anyway. You give me a call when you get home and settled. And if anything happens, you let me know. If you need anything…”

  “I know,” I interrupt him. “I’ll call you. Now go home. Mother went back to Los Angeles yesterday. It’ll make me feel better to know you’re at home, having a hurricane party rather than sitting with me at my place, bored and lonely.”

  With a pat on my back, he leaves me without saying another word. In his defense, he’s been trying to talk me into going home with him the entire day.

  Going to the bathroom, I run my hand through my hair and look at my reflection. “Who are you trying to change yourself for?”

  Shaking my head, I go back into the hospital room and sit in the chair my father left vacant. I don’t know how to explain to anyone why I feel the need to make changes in myself. Everything looks rosy, on the surface. Inside, I’m a mess.

  Twice I’ve done sexual shit that’s gotten me on Cami’s bad side. I can’t seem to learn the difference between right and wrong. To have been taught that, early on, would’ve been helpful.

  A lesser man would stand on the fact he was taught deviant sexual practices and that would be that. Women would comply or he’d simply not deal with them.

  So, why am I so hung up on Camilla Petit?

  She clearly doesn’t care for me. Leaving me like this, proves that much. But I still care for her. As a matter of fact, I need to try to call her to make sure she’s got somewhere safe to be, during the hurricane. If she’ll answer my call that is.

  My cell phone is still at home. Once I get there, I will attempt to contact her and make sure she’s okay. I don’t care if she hates me or not, I will not let her anger stop her from being someplace safe for t
he storm. Her little duplex apartment is nowhere nearly good enough for her to ride the storm out.

  The door opens and in sweeps the doctor. “Hey there, Mr. Girard. Are you ready to leave us?”

  I get up and shake his hand. “I am.” Lifting up my shirt, I show him the stitches which look excellent. “See, it looks great, don’t you think?”

  He nods and writes on a paper on his clipboard. “It does. If you can sign all these papers for me, I’ll get you a wheelchair and a nurse and you will be on your way. You’re doing so well. I think all that worry over having full time nurses around you was a bit too much. You’ll be fine. Did your staff at home manage to get you set up for this hurricane we’re about to have?”

  “They did,” I tell him as I sign page after page of release papers. “I’ll be fine. The place is huge.”

  “Oh, I know. I saw it just a couple of days ago. An ex-student of mine lives out that way. She and I met again when she was here in the hospital. It had been a few years since I had seen her and something just sparked inside of me when I saw her again. No longer my student and she was available, had me asking her out to dinner and she accepted. We had a nice night out. I’m hoping to see her again soon but she told me she’s just coming off a bad semi-relationship, she didn’t want to talk about.”

  My hackles start rising as he goes on about this woman he’s looking forward to dating. I sign the last page and hand him back his clipboard. “So, she’s a neighbor of mine?” I ask him and feel my stomach going tight.

  “Yes, she pointed out your estate. She said she heard about your hospital stay from the news and asked if I knew anything about how you were doing.”

  When he says nothing else, I ask, “And you told her?”

  He shakes his head. “I told her I wasn’t allowed to talk about my patients.”

  With a nod, I find myself asking him, “And her name is?”

  “Camilla.”

  Mother fucker!

  “I think she’s one of the cashiers at that convenience store at the edge of town. I think I’ve seen her before. Long, dark, curly hair, right?”