My Billionaire Stranger

by Shae Black

  “Oh… ok, well if you want to talk about it I’m always just outside the room on the other side of that window, I’ll be charting there.” I point toward the window.

  “Ok, thank you Imani,”

  At my charting station outside Marcus’s room the bustling of the ICU continues behind me but all I can think about is Elena’s comment about Marcus being “difficult”, what did she mean by that? And why don’t they keep in touch, they’re twins it’s weird. After catching up on my charting I consider googling him or looking through his chart to see what kind of work he does. What the hell is wrong with me? I don’t research my patients. But then again I’ve never had a patient this mysterious before either. Ok, so looking to see where he works isn’t too ‘stalky’, is it? I can do that can’t I? I flip to the first page of his chart where his admitting information is located and look for the box titled place of employment. Dominus? What kind of place is that? Hmmmm that sounds a little like ‘dominatrix.’ I feel silly about comparing the two and giggle to myself. Maybe I’ll google it.

  No, it’s none of my business.

  My God Imani can’t you just take care of the guy and leave his personal life alone?

  Elena steps out of his room snapping me from my thoughts wearing a beautiful long camel colored coat drawn tight around her waist with a wide belt. I can’t help but admire her suede Ralph Lauren boots with at least a four-inch heel. She pulls off a casual exotic look with ease and any woman with shoes like that is automatically my friend.

  “Good bye Imani, please take good care of my brother, I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “Of course I will, we have a number where we can reach you at if he comes around right?”

  “Yes I gave it to the day nurse, and please call me right away, I’ll come any time.”

  “Ok, I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

  “Goodbye.” Elena strides to the elevator disappearing behind the doors when they slid shut. I can’t wait to be alone with Marcus and I’m glad his sister has gone home. God Imani! How can you be so selfish? What is your damn deal?

  I close the blinds to the small window that faces my charting station and shut the door. Once again I administer Marcus’s scheduled medications into his IV and touch his warm, soft hand. Leaning down close to his mouth I have the urge to bite his perfect full bottom lip. What the hell, I’ve never bitten or wanted to bite anyone before!

  What. Is. Wrong. With. Me?

  I reign in my compulsion and whisper to him instead, “Hi Marcus, it’s Imani, I’m back tonight.” Chewing the inside of my cheek I try to think of a good excuse to touch him, well he could use a shave. Yes a shave it is. I can’t believe nobody has done this in the four days I’ve been off; he’s going to look like a lumber jack pretty soon if no one does it, albeit the sexiest lumberjack who ever lived. I move the oxygen cannula from his face and lay it next to him on the pillow. Hitching my hip onto the bed next to him, I settle in and enjoy the heat from his body against mine. I inhale and blow away the anxious butterflies in my tummy; his hair flutters from my breath. Foreign feelings spark through my body. I try to calm myself before smoothing the shaving cream over his face and neck. Carefully I drag the razor along his neck while tilting his chin and rotating his face around for a close shave. Taking my time I enjoy touching him in such an intimate way while he sleeps. The job could have been done much quicker and I feel a little guilty for purposely drawing it out but that doesn’t stop me. I can’t get enough of him. When I’m finished I place my hands on either side of his face and feel the smooth skin that is now exposed. Wow he’s breathtaking with a clean-shaven face. I’m not sure that’s even possible. I brush a dark curl of hair from his forehead and notice he has a gash at the hairline that isn’t clean enough for my liking. I grab some alcohol and small pieces of gauze to clean his wound. I talk to him in a soft, low voice, explaining every move I make as I clean and bandage him up. Yet again I can’t resist the urge to be closer to him and I lean down to rest my cheek against his. When I do his warm breath tickles my neck and I turn to press my lips against his.

  OH. MY. GOD. This is so wrong! What am I doing?

  I hop off the edge of the bed and rush to replace the oxygen, clean up my mess and leave the room. This is ridiculous; I’m out of control, maybe I should trade patients with another nurse…. no… I can’t. I can’t stand the thought of anyone else touching him. I’m being incredibly possessive with my mystery man, I feel like yelling, “He’s Mine!” I’ve clearly lost it.

  The rest of my shift I keep my hands to myself, it’s difficult but I force myself do it. When my shift is over I again find myself wishing I could stay. Brynn, his day nurse today informs me that his sister arrives around 9 a.m. every day. Well at least I know he’s not alone, it almost makes it bearable to go home and sleep…almost. I’ll be back in a little more than twelve hours although it seems like forever…

  Chapter 3

  At home I wash my face, tie my long, thick ebony hair in a knot and grab a bottle of water before curling up in my bed for a little while before I go to sleep. I hold off on taking my sleeping pills for now and pull my iPad from the drawer in my bedside table. The blank screen begs me to Google Marcus’s place of business and after a moment of hesitation I smash my finger against the glass and start a search.

  Dominus; it’s an elegant exclusive members only, restaurant with a nightclub. A few clicks later, I learn that Dominus is not just one single restaurant. There are locations all over the world, from here in Seattle to San Diego, Chicago, Italy, France, Miami, New York, Brazil and even Australia! Holy crap, this man is successful, I knew he had to be somebody special to land in Seattle Trinity hospital but I didn’t expect him to be a billionaire. The pictures…. wow, I can’t believe the degree of extravagance, no expense was spared when decorating, and the nightclubs are dark and mysterious, even a little creepy. Ok, now I’m even more intrigued, but a little voice in the back of my head is telling me I should stop right here. Searching any deeper is only going to bring trouble, but do I listen?

  No. Shut up little voice!

  Thirty minutes later I’ve learned that he is 36 years old, lives here in Seattle and grew up in Italy where he was born. Strangely that’s it I’ve hit a brick wall. There’s no more personal information to be found. There are pictures of him at Dominus in various locations around the world spanning over at least fifteen years. In every photograph he is dressed in a regal suit but most distinguishing are his eyes. So that’s what they look like when they are open…. green, no not just green, such a bright green that they’re almost glowing, like a cat. It seems strange an Italian man would have such striking green eyes with his dark complexion; I would have guessed he had brown eyes. He stands alone in every photograph, no women or date; never smiling. His expression is intense with a hint of a scowl. It’s curious that he owns such extravagant establishments but he is always alone in his photographs. You’d think women would be flocking to a wealthy gorgeous man like Marcus. I scroll down and come across a collection of photographs taken in Dominus locations all over the world; famous people, I mean really famous people are posing in every one. Finally I lay the iPad aside and take my sleeping pills. I could ask his sister about it tomorrow, but then again she said they weren’t close so she probably doesn’t know any more than I do. As I snuggle down in the duvet I close my eyes and in the darkness I imagine Marcus’s piercing green eyes focusing on me with his hands caressing my skin.

  Waking up during the day is unsettling; the room is dark and I don’t know what time it is. When I roll over and look at the clock I see it’s still early and I’m feeling creative. I decide to trade sleep for a few hours at the Seattle Glass Blowing studio. The studio is a place of healing for me. It’s somewhere I can throw myself into making something beautiful and escape reality, if only for a short time. I roll out of bed and grab my iPad clicking on one of my favorite playlists and head to the shower. When I stop in front of the bathroom mirror I see a chronically tired ver
sion of myself staring at me with crazy tangled jet-black hair. What have I been doing in my sleep?

  The dark circles under my eyes and the ashy tone that has replaced my caramel colored skin are telling of my work schedule. I could use a vacation somewhere warm, where I can soak up some sun on a sandy beach. I turn on the water, strip down and step into the hot shower that instantly steams up the bathroom. Washing my hair I tap my foot to the beat of the music and dance around. I rarely do anything without music, except at work and even then when it’s slow I sneak in my ear buds while charting or observing a sleeping patient. Marcus sleeping, and there he is invading my thoughts again. Am I ever going to get this guy off my mind?

  After my shower I see a slight improvement; I have some color in my cheeks from the hot water and my hair is untangled. When I’m dry and my challenging hair has been flat ironed and braided I dress in old jeans and a tank top layering a navy blue UW sweatshirt over top. It’s smart to layer, the fall weather has brought cooler temperatures, but it’s roasting hot in the studio. Pulling on my boots I scan the room for my purse. Where is my damn purse? I don’t know how I manage to lose that thing all the time; it probably weighs 50 lb. Ahh there it is on the floor by the front door. Scooping it up I heave it onto my shoulder and pull the hood up on my sweatshirt before I step outside. The wind is chilly today, summer is my favorite time of year, I’m going to miss it. I have one indulgence in my life and it’s sitting in the street in front of me, my red Volvo S60. I make good money and I have all my student loans paid off and I live well beneath my means. I own an apartment above several small shops, a bakery and a boutique. One of the reasons I bought it was because of the heavenly smells that drift up through the ventilation system. I’m a homebody for the most part, my social life consists of occasionally going out with a very select group of friends. Trusting people and staying safe are monumental issues for me and I suppose the car is related to that as well. I panic at the thought of breaking down and being stranded alone on the side of the road, exposed and vulnerable.

  Dax is working on yet another vase when I swing open the door to the studio, I swear he’s made a million of them. My old friend turns toward me when he hears the door; beads of sweat cover his baldhead and slide down his neck, disappearing into his shirt. Dax is one of the only men in my world that I trust; I’ve known him for 10 years. He was kind to me when I started coming here searching for a therapeutic hobby after my attack. He sensed that something was off with me and kept his distance for almost a year. When he finally gained my trust he taught me all he knew about glass blowing.

  “Hey Imani, long time no see!” he calls out enthusiastically.

  “Hey Dax, nice vase,” I tease.

  “Yea practice makes perfect right?” he answers, shrugging his broad shoulders.

  “Well you should be faultless by now, do you give your wife flowers every day to keep them all in use?”

  “Naaah, she puts ‘em all away; I think she’s sick of me making them too.”

  “Maybe you should branch out, make a candy dish or something,” I reply playfully.

  “Ehh I’ll stick to what I know.”

  “Ok, suit yourself.” I shed my sweatshirt and grab a steel rod. Gathering molten glass from the first oven my vision becomes clear in my mind; a multicolored light fixture that could hang from the ceiling, spiking out in all directions. Working the glass onto the steel rod is like turning caramel onto an apple, my mind wanders to where it always does lately… Marcus. I wonder what he’s like, what does he do for fun, what’s he into, what does he like to eat, or what his favorite color is. Of course I want him to wake up, but a tiny, selfish part of me enjoys the sleeping Marcus. I can admire him without a panic attack or feeling self-conscious; he’s just that gorgeous and intimidating. I carry my glass to the marker and begin shaping, repeating the process with red, lavender and blues, yellow and greens that flow and merge the glass into a beautiful, artistic light fixture.

  The photographs of Dominus inspired me, I can imagine it hanging in any one of his restaurants or clubs. Dax shoots me a shocked look.

  “Holy hell Imani, that thing’s a monster! It’s gorgeous though; I’ve never seen you make anything like that before!”

  “Yea, I had some inspiration hit me this week.” Yea, inspiration named Marcus Castillo.

  Man I’m sweating my ass off, I’ve spent so much time working on this piece that I’m soaked before I’m satisfied. I place the light into the anneal to cool overnight. Overnight… shit, I need to get out of here so I can get home and shower before work. As I’m cleaning up my supplies, Dax gives me a little wave.

  “Leaving so soon?”

  “Yep gotta work tonight.”

  “Okay, see ya next time Imani, come by more often, I miss seeing you around here.”

  “Will do, and you have fun with your millionth vase,” I tease.

  “Yea but it’s perfect right?” He holds up his nearly finished product. “Yea Dax it really is.”

  It’s a perfect, tall and slender purple vase, I really do like it.

  “Hey do you have plans for that?” I ask.

  “Nope, just gonna add it to the collection I guess.”

  “Can I have it? I have a patient that’s going to be with us for a while and he could use something beautiful in his room when he comes around. He’s in a coma.”

  “Yea sure, you got a little thing for this guy, shame on you for taking advantage of a guy in a coma!” he snickers and my mouth drops open; how could he know that, is it that obvious?

  “Of course not!” I blush a dark shade of pink feeling the heat spread up my neck to my face.

  “I’m just messin with ya Imani, sure you can have it, just take it out of the anneal tomorrow when you pick up your piece.”

  “Thanks.” I hurry out the door to avoid any further teasing, and because I’m going to be late for work.

  Chapter 4

  Dressed in my scrubs AKA my pajamas I braid my long damp hair to keep it out of my face at work, apply a touch of mascara and dash out the door. At the hospital I request to have Marcus as a patient tonight and I’m also assigned a woman with a gunshot wound to the head; she isn’t expected to live.

  In the wrong place at the wrong time a stray bullet at a stoplight hit this innocent woman. Multiple family members wander aimlessly around in the lobby, some in shock some crying at the news of their loved ones impending death. Her husband is at her bedside devastated, lost, holding her hand and openly sobbing. It makes me think about losing a loved one, a partner, a husband and a soul mate. I shudder even though I have never known that kind of love I imagine it must be crushing. I check on Marcus first, he’s still unconscious but tonight his sister isn’t alone at his bedside. A handsome blonde man dressed in a sharp dark pinstriped suit speaks quietly with Elena.

  “Oh Imani, I’m so glad you’re finally here, this is Elijah,” she introduces me to this striking blonde man with crystal blue eyes.

  “Nice to meet you Elijah, it’s always good to have friends visit, maybe it will spark something and he will wake up.”

  “Oh, we aren’t friends,” he says nervously, glancing quickly at Marcus and back to me. “I work for Mr. Castillo.”

  “Elijah is Marcus’s right-hand man and he manages one of his restaurants located here in Seattle, he is invaluable to him. I’m sure he considers you his friend Elijah.” She too glances at Marcus.

  What’s going on here is this guy is afraid Marcus might hear him claiming to be his friend, what could be wrong with that?

  “Well a familiar voice can be helpful too.” I offer attempting to cut some of the tension in the room. Elijah gives me a lopsided smile and shifts his gaze to the floor. With his hands in his pockets he shuffles his feet around nervously. His reaction is concerning, what kind of man strikes this kind of fear in his most valued employee? After I check Marcus over I leave the two of them to finish talking. I need to see my other patient and for once I’m anxious to leave Marcus’s ro
om. Elijah doesn’t stay long, after looking over some paperwork with Elena they step into the hall and join me where I’m charting.

  “Imani I’m leaving now, I’ll be back in the morning.”

  “Ok, I work tomorrow night again, I imagine I’ll see you.”

  “Oh you will, I’ve requested that you always be Marcus’s nurse if you’re working.” “Oh…” I’m surprised and I don’t know what else to say.

  “I know it’s silly and you probably won’t believe me.” She looks into Marcus’s room and back to me. She holds my eyes in a serious gaze that pleads believe me. “I feel like he’s more comfortable when you’re here.” She pauses for my reaction but I’m confused as to what exactly she is trying to say so I stay quiet and wait for her to continue.

  .

  “His color is better and I swear his heart rate goes up when you are with him.”

  Oh my God, I must be seriously transparent; first Dax and now Elena think I have a thing for Marcus, which I do but holy crap, it must be very noticeable. I need to work on that… blushing I turn to Elena.

  “Well thank you, I do enjoy taking care of him.” More than she could ever know.

  With a quick sigh she adjusts her purse on her arm. “Ok then, see you tomorrow.”

  “Bye,” I say quietly as she strides to the elevator. Glad to have him alone again I’m immediately drawn to his side, that magnetism is hard at work keeping us together. Does his heart rate really go up when I’m around? I probably should have noticed since I’m the one taking his vitals every two hours but I don’t remember any obvious fluctuations. Note to self, go back and look at Marcus’s heart rate in the computer and see if Elena is right; at the moment he’s running at about 70 beats per minute, which is perfectly normal. I sigh, wouldn’t it be flattering if a man of his magnitude even in a coma recognized my presence?