“You don’t have to do that.”
“Let me,” he snapped impatiently.
“Fine,” I sighed. “Apology accepted.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You could be a little more gracious about it.”
I raised an eyebrow in answer.
“Right.” He winced, his eyes dropping to my stomach. “How is it?” His hands fluttered over the area as if he was afraid any minute now I was about to go all Warrant Officer Ripley on him.
“Gestating.”
“What?” He squinted in confusion.
“Nothing,” I murmured.
“I’ve missed your weird sense of humor, Alexa.” He patted my hand condescendingly.
Frankly I didn’t think I had a weird sense of humor—it was just that Benito didn’t have any kind of sense of humor.
“There was another reason I came to see you.”
“Oh?” Please do not offer me my job back. It would be very difficult to say no, and I knew the best thing for me was to start afresh.
“Antoine Faucheux called me a few days ago.”
Interest piqued, I urged him to go on.
“Apparently his sister, Renée, is looking for a new events planner in her events management company. In Paris. It’s a very successful company—it deals in society weddings, launch parties … Antoine is going to suggest you to his sister, and he called me to ask me to forgive you long enough to write you a glowing reference.”
I stared dumbly at him, processing.
A job. In Paris. In events management?
Was this real?
Benito grimaced. “You’re not saying anything.”
“I’m trying to get my head around it. You just told me someone might offer me my dream job the day after some psycho stuck a knife in me. It’s all a little overwhelming.”
“Of course, dear.” He patted my hand again, this time staring at me as if he were worried I was about to start shouting for Nurse Ratched.
I’d forgotten how trying Benito could be. “Are you going to give me a reference?”
“What kind of monster would I be if I didn’t?”
“That’s a yes, right?”
He rolled his eyes. “Yes.”
“Wow.” This changed everything. I could start over in Paris. I wouldn’t have to put up with my grandmother’s more than likely rejection and the rest of the Hollands’ reaction to my presence in their city. I’d be doing something I’d always wanted to do. I’d be living in Paris! I could escape whatever arcane hell was going on with this attacker business.
But the most alluring part of taking a job in Paris?
I wouldn’t have to worry about accidentally bumping into Caine anymore. I could take my broken heart to another continent. Somehow that was reassuring. Maybe in Paris I’d have a chance to actually move on.
Whereas if I was stuck in Boston, everything would remind me of him.
“What about this?” I pointed to my belly. “Doc says recovery time varies from four to six weeks.”
“Well, I’m sure you can work something out with Antoine’s sister.”
I smiled with sincerity. “Benito, thank you.”
He grinned. “I’m forgiven?”
I laughed. “You’re forgiven.”
CHAPTER 28
I was being tortured.
The familiar, delicious scent of Caine’s cologne tickled my nose, and other less innocent places. My arms were wrapped around his neck as he carried me, holding me close to his hard body. I stared glumly at his lips that hovered near my face, and fought the urge to kiss him.
“You know, with all your money you could have installed an elevator inside your apartment so you didn’t have to carry me all the way upstairs,” I grumbled, only half joking, as he laid me down on his guest bed.
His hands rested on the bed at the sides of my shoulders as he braced over me. His eyebrows drew together as he searched my face. “Did I hurt you?”
The whole moving from the hospital to Caine’s apartment hadn’t been the most comfortable process, but no, he hadn’t hurt me. At least not physically.
“No,” I mumbled, and looked away.
Caine sighed. “Are you still mad at me?”
Yes, but now for a different reason. I glared at him. Why hadn’t he moved away? Move away! “Yes.”
“I’m trying to protect you.” He pulled back and I sighed in relief.
“I could have stayed with Rach. She offered.”
“And put up with a crazy four-year-old who would have no consideration for the fact that you’re wounded? There’s a way to guarantee ripping your stitches.”
Since I couldn’t argue with that, I continued glowering.
He smirked at me. “I would never have guessed you’d be an irritable patient.”
“Oh, I’m glad this is amusing you.” I groaned as I lifted myself up into a sitting position and Caine hurried forward to help me. I stopped him by raising a palm to ward him off. I’d had enough of being manhandled by the man I was no longer allowed to handle.
While I was in the hospital, someone had outfitted Caine’s guest room for me. It had always been a nice room, but now there was a television and a DVD player across from the bed, and a bookshelf stacked with books and magazines in the corner. An eReader and a laptop sat on the bedside table along with … knitting needles? I stared at them for a second and then raised an eyebrow at Caine.