Revenge: A Bad Boy Romance (8 page)

Denton looked down and was surprised as me to see all the blood. I heard Perry mutter “oh shit,” behind me and then scurry out of the room.    

“You’re bleeding,” I said, stating the obvious.

“That appears to be the case.”

Perry’s knife lay on the floor. It was coated in blood.    

Come on, Chloe, you’ve had training for this.

My first aid knowledge finally made its presence known in my brain, and I snapped out of the trance that had taken over me while I stared at the ever-increasing blood stain on his shirt.

“Where’s the first aid kit?” I asked. “You must have one.”

“I’m fine,” Denton replied. “It’ll heal by itself eventually.”

“You didn’t fall off your tricycle and scrape your knee, Denton. You’ve been stabbed.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that,” he replied, with a smile. “Alright Nurse Tamworth, the first aid kit is in that cupboard over there. Under the security monitors.”    

I headed over to the monitors, and caught a glimpse of Perry leaving the building. He already looked a lot better than he had a few minutes ago, and at least he didn’t have a stab wound to content with.    

I pulled the first aid kit out and examined the limited supplies. I wouldn’t be able to stitch it up, but there was alcohol to clean the wound and plenty of bandages and gauze.

“Take your shirt off,” I ordered.    

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”    

“Not really,” I lied.    

I couldn’t help but be a little curious about what he looked like under his tight t-shirt. Even with a knife wound in his side, he’d still be many multiples more appealing than any man I’d ever been with.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” Denton asked. “Or do you just want to see me naked?”

“I’ve had first aid training,” I replied quickly, before thinking it through. “My school made me take classes.”    

Denton grabbed hold of the bottom of his t-shirt and went to pull it up over his head, but he barely moved it before grimacing in pain. The shirt had stuck to his wound and needed peeling off.

“Let me do it,” I said, walking over and trying to pull his arms off his shirt.

“I’m quite capable of removing my own shirt,” Denton insisted. “I’ve done it many times before.”

“And I’ve undressed men many times before,” I said cheekily.
Never one like you though.

Denton laughed, but the convulsion in his stomach made him moan in pain. “Okay, today’s your lucky day. You get to undress me. Savor the moment. Not many women get to experience this.”

“From what I’ve heard, quite a few women get to experience it.”    

“Good point. Alright, not many women
this week
have experienced it. What can I say, I’ve been busy with work.”

I took hold of the bottom of the shirt, careful to avoid the patches soaked in blood, and gently pulled it up towards his neck. Denton grimaced loudly as the shirt peeled away from his wound but he didn’t stop me.    

Once the shirt was clear of the wound, I reached up as high as I could go, but couldn’t get the shirt up over his head. He was too tall, and couldn’t bend over to make it easy on me.

“I thought you said you were experienced at taking shirts off men,” Denton said, while the shirt covered his face.

“They’re usually a little more cooperative,” I replied.    

Denton reached up with the arm from his good side and grabbed my wrist, holding it there for a few seconds, before moving on to the t-shirt and lifting it up over his head.    

Now I had a clear, unobstructed view of Denton Russell. He was right--I was lucky. There was only one tattoo, but it covered a large part of his chest, and extended onto his arms all the way down to his wrists.    

If the image was supposed to symbolize something, I had no idea what. Perhaps it was like those paintings psychiatrists made you look at and asked you what you saw. If you pictured a vagina then you had mommy issues, or something like that.

I couldn’t decide whether I actually liked the tattoo. Generally, I thought tattoos were horrible, pointless things, but I’d never really examined one up close like this before. The ink spread over the contours of the muscles defining a firm chest, and tight abs, like the type you saw on the front of men’s magazines. I’d always assumed they were faked or photoshopped, but the view in front of me now was real enough.

“You’re supposed to be looking at the wound,” Denton pointed out.    

“I am,” I lied.    

I tore my eyes away from the perfect male body in front of me, and poured some alcohol onto a cloth and wiped the blood away from around the wound. The knife had torn a nasty gash in the skin, but it hadn’t gone in deep enough to cause any internal damage.

“This is going to hurt,” I said, as I prepared to rub the alcohol directly on the open wound.    

“You’re not the first woman to say that after getting me naked,” Denton joked.

“Am I the first woman
this week
?”    

Denton laughed loudly, forgetting--or not caring--that doing so caused him immense pain. “You’ve a wicked sense of humor on you. I think I’m going to enjoy having you around.”    

“You might not be saying that in a second,” I said, as I pressed the alcohol soaked cloth against his skin.    

Denton didn’t scream, but his hand gripped my arm tightly letting me know just how much discomfort I was causing him. His flesh on my arm sent electricity sparking through my body, but not from how hard he was holding me.    

Now I knew why all those women fell for him. He actually did have a raw animal magnetism to him. His touch sent sparks dancing across the surface of my skin.    

I tried to keep my eyes focused on the wound. At least that stopped me getting overly aroused as my fingers brushed against his abs. Once the wound was clean I put the cloth down and Denton relaxed.    

“That hurts like hell,” he snarled.

“You didn’t even notice getting stabbed and yet you make a fuss at a little bit of alcohol.”

“I don’t notice pain when the adrenaline’s flying through my system. I wouldn’t be much of a fighter if I did.”    

“You’re not supposed to be a fighter,” I pointed out. “You’re supposed to be the CEO of a large company.”    

“Everyone needs a hobby.”

I laughed and shook my head. It wasn’t until later I realized that the laugh was genuine and not part of the act I was putting on for his benefit.    

“You need stitches,” I said.

“I’ll be fine. Cuts heal eventually.”

“This isn’t a cut, it’s a stab wound. Let’s go the hospital now. I’m guessing you have expensive insurance; might as well use it.”

“No hospitals,” Denton insisted, making it clear that was the end of the conversation.

“Fine. I’ll cover it up for now. You’ll change your mind when the wound keeps coming open.”

“Well if you’re going to undress me every time I bleed, that might not be so bad.”    

I looked up from the wound and saw him smiling at me, but I had no idea if he was joking or not. Either way, playing around with him was a surefire way of gaining his trust. It’s what Lois would want me to do.

“Just try not to get stabbed on the leg next time,” I replied. “I don’t get down on my knees in front of a man without at least a nice meal first.”

I took some Steri-Strips from the first aid kit and bandaged up the wound as best I could, but he was still bleeding.

“You’ll need to clean the wound again in the morning,” I said, handing Denton the alcohol. “And no, I will not be there to do it for you.”    

“Not even if I buy you a nice meal?” Denton joked.    

“Not even if you buy me the restaurant.”

Denton insisted on staying in the office for a few more hours, but he called for a car to take me home. I tried one more time to get him to go to the hospital, but he was more stubborn than any man I had ever met. Most men had a touch of that in them, but I didn’t know many who would refuse to go to the hospital after being stabbed.

The truth was, I didn’t know many men like Denton, period. During my briefings before starting this operation, Denton had been made out to be a two-dimensional bad boy thug, running daddy’s businesses by day and his crime empire by night. When he wasn’t working, he was playing with a string of models and actresses.    

On the surface, everything I’d seen today fit that description. I hadn’t seen him with any women yet, but he’d been busy with work all day. He’d worked in the office all day and then spent his evening beating people up for not repaying their loans.    

But there was more to him than that. He wasn’t shallow. One look in his eyes was more than enough to confirm that. Denton had a sense of humor, and if I didn’t know better I could swear there was a layer of compassion in there somewhere too.    

He treated me with respect at least, and that was more than I could say for at least one of my former bosses. Some important men were excellent at putting on a show in front of the crowds, but spend time alone with them and things became unpleasant quickly.    

Denton wasn’t like that. But I shouldn’t underestimate him. He’d beaten someone bloody right in front of my eyes, and I didn’t doubt that he was capable of much worse.    

Denton was dangerous in more ways than one. He was a threat to those who crossed him, but he was also dangerous for those who got close to him. Just look at what happened to his last girlfriend.    

Whatever I did, I couldn’t allow myself to get too close to Denton. I had to maintain an emotional distance for the sake of my own sanity. That had seemed so easy when Lois and I had discussed it in the safe confines of the office, but now I worried that it wouldn’t be so straightforward.

Denton had a way of pulling you towards him. I just hoped I had the strength to resist.

That hadn’t gone exactly as planned. Served me right for trying to put on a show.  

I’d encouraged Perry to come at me with his knife, but my attempt at casually deflecting him only succeeded in sending the knife tearing through my skin.  

Perry sent me a message apologizing, but it wasn’t his fault. I’d agreed to let him off with a beating instead of repaying his debt, and it had been my idea to take a few blows in the fight as well.  

All to test Chloe’s resolve and loyalty. That’s what I told myself anyway, but that didn’t explain why I let Perry punch me. I could have tested Chloe without getting a beating myself, but I wanted to look like the hard man in front of her.  

Perhaps I’d even wanted her to look after me, although I could hardly have predicted the stab wound or that she would have basic first aid training.

There was a lot about Chloe that I hadn’t predicted. The way she’d dressed tonight had been out of this world. I couldn’t get the mental image out of her out of my mind, and I’d only been half joking when I teased her about getting me naked.  

Chloe was going to make a damn good assistant. I’d have to give it a few days to make sure she handled tonight’s events with the appropriate level of discretion, but I had complete and utter confidence in her.  

Not every woman would have stayed by the door and watched the fight. Most would have run for a mile. Chloe had waited patiently for it all to finish and then cleaned up my wounds afterwards.  

I slumped down on the chair by my desk, but winced in pain as I felt the bandage slide against the wound. I should get stitches, but I’d made a huge fuss about not getting them that I’d look like an idiot if I went back on my word now. The wound would heal. Eventually.

I grabbed an old gym shirt that I’d left in a ball on my desk. It was dank with stale sweat, but it would have to do. I’d still smell better than most of the men in the club, especially by the time we turned on the lights and kicked them all out.  

There wasn’t much else to do in the office, but I wanted to give the wound a chance to stop bleeding before I called a car to take me home. I used my legs to slowly slide the chair over towards the safe on the wall and dug out some cash. A few thousand should do it.

It was a good thing my dad never looked too closely at the accounts for this place. If he did he might question why we spent so much on high-end whiskey when we didn’t sell any of the stuff. At least once a month I had to withdraw money from the safe to keep Dad happy. And to keep people like Perry alive.