Chapter 113: Invalid
Carmen
It took a month before I was finally discharged from the hospital.
A month that didn’t pass nearly fast enough, especially with all the rumors continuing to spread.
Gang violence.
Most of it centered around Vito’s territory.
And no matter how many times Nico denied being involved, I knew better.
Still, I kept my cool and waited until I was released. My body had mostly recovered apart from my left arm, which still rested in a sling.
But the moment I returned to the estate, the first thing I tried to do was speak to Nico about what exactly he was doing and why.
Only to be ignored.
"You’re yet to recover. Should you really be asking me these questions?" he asked, making it painfully clear that as far as he was concerned, I was still too weak to do anything except rest.
At first, I tried to let it go.
But by the second month—especially the night Nico returned covered in dust and dirt with barely half the men he’d left with—I could no longer pretend to ignore what was obvious.
I was involved in whatever he had going on whether he liked it or not.
And I had absolutely no intention of being sidelined.
Annoyed, I immediately headed straight for his study, following him there while still leaning on a crutch.
The guards outside the door tried to stop me.
I ignored them completely.
Pushing past them, I walked into the room and slammed the door shut loudly behind me, the sound echoing throughout the study.
Nico was seated with Martin, something that had become far more frequent lately.
Especially now that Nico seemed determined to keep me completely out of the loop.
"I need to speak to you," I said directly, making it clear I wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Aran still hadn’t stopped reaching out to me.
And yes, I was tempted.
Not just because Nico had been avoiding me sexually, but because he’d been avoiding me entirely.
Still, I kept ignoring Aran.
Mostly because I knew Nico would kill him the second I ever decided to switch sides.
But more than that, I still hadn’t forgotten the stranger who visited my hospital room.
Or the paper he’d handed me.
The fact that Nico had quietly made himself my next of kin without my permission still bothered me more than I wanted to admit.
And despite everything, I had still chosen to believe him.
At some point, though, continuing to swallow whatever explanation he gave me would only make me feel like a fool.
Nico lifted his gaze toward me, looking exhausted.
I didn’t care.
Martin looked just as tense, glancing toward Nico cautiously like he was waiting to see how he would react.
That alone irritated me even more.
"Get out," I told Martin sharply.
His gaze settled on me, calm and mostly unreadable.
He didn’t move until Nico finally nodded, giving permission for him to leave.
"I’ll come back later," Martin replied before heading toward the door.
But not before throwing a cold look my way that made it painfully obvious he disapproved of my actions.
More than that, he looked annoyed.
The door clicked shut behind him.
"What we were discussing is important," Nico said with a sigh as he rose from his seat.
His hair was disheveled, like he’d run his hands through it countless times already.
His usually immaculate shirt was wrinkled, streaked with faint patches of dirt.
He moved away from behind the desk and leaned against it instead, folding his arms across his chest while watching me approach.
"You could have asked to see me and I would have come to you," he said with another tired sigh, speaking the same way someone would speak to a difficult child refusing to behave.
I had already reached him by then.
Without hesitation, I raised my hand and slapped him.
Hard.
Hard enough to leave a mark.
I was almost more shocked by the fact that he didn’t even flinch.
If anything, it made me flinch instead.
But my anger only burned hotter.
"How dare you!" I screamed directly into his face, every bit of frustration and rage I’d buried over the past weeks finally erupting.
"How dare you treat me like an invalid!" I shouted again.
Still, his expression barely changed.
Only his gaze darkened, his heavy-lidded eyes fixed steadily on mine.
What irritated me even more was that he didn’t raise his hand against me.
Didn’t react at all.
He simply stayed where he was, staring at me.
"Are you done?" he asked calmly.
The only satisfaction I got was from the fact that he at least sounded angry now.
In response, I lifted my hand to slap him again.
But this time he caught my wrist before I could.
"Once can be forgiven," he said quietly, his voice edged with warning. "Twice, and I’ll have to teach you a bloody lesson."
That tone would have made me cower the first time we met.
Now it only made me angrier.
"Do you get the message?" I demanded, trying to yank my wrist free.
Instead, his grip tightened.
With one pull, he dragged me forward until I stood directly between his legs.
I glared down at him furiously.
"You’re not an invalid," he said, his eyes locked on mine. "But you are acting like a child. You couldn’t get your words across by speaking, so now you’re acting out."
His words infuriated me.
But I knew better than to completely lose control.
He was the one I was trying to provoke.
"Let go of—" I started.
But his grip remained firm.
Using his free hand, he reached for the red blouse I wore and began undoing the buttons like he had every right to.
I tried slapping his hand away.
Or at least attempted to.
Instead, he grabbed the fabric and ripped the blouse open completely.
"If you’re not an invalid, then maybe we should confirm that," he said.
But I was already pulling away from him.
