Christ, what was wrong with him? It seemed he was getting worse, not better. His vision was swimming and the nausea and inane thoughts were getting worse, too. The artificial arousal only added to his nausea. Maybe he needed to call 911.
He focused his gaze on the phone in his lap and then picked it up again. His hands were shaking. Was that a bad sign?
He tapped on his recent calls, intending to try Maya’s number again, but his gaze fell on the contact below. Satan.
Later, Nate would blame his shaking hands for missing Maya’s name. But he had no excuse for not ending the call after he hit Raffaele’s contact by mistake.
“Nate?”
It was absolutely disgusting the way he felt a little better and more focused just from hearing that low voice. Disgusting and very, very alarming.
“I…” Nate said, feeling incredibly foolish. “Never mind.”
He hung up, and then groaned pitifully. What had he been thinking?
His phone went off.
Nate winced, but he knew better than to ignore the call. He answered. “Look, I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to call you.” He did his best not to slur and sound normal, but it probably wasn’t surprising that he hadn’t fooled anyone.
“What’s wrong with you?” Raffaele said sharply. “Where are you?”
Nate blinked, confused, before realizing that Raffaele could likely hear the music. “In a club,” he admitted. “Lush. Someone’s drugged me and I don’t feel too good.”
Raffaele swore in Italian. “Are you safe right now?”
Nate let out a humorless chuckle, fighting another wave of nausea. “I locked myself in a bathroom stall.”
“Good,” Raffaele said in a clipped voice. “Don’t leave. What are your symptoms?”
“Nausea,” Nate said, closing his eyes. “My vision is kind of spinning. Tremors. And arousal.”
There was silence on the line for a moment before Raffaele said in a rather chilling voice, “Who were you with?”
Nate opened his eyes. “Some guy at the bar,” he said, feeling unsure, almost guilty. Which was ridiculous on so many levels Nate tried not to dwell on the feeling. Annoyed with himself, he said, “He was flirting with me. He wanted me to suck his cock.”
“Did you.” Raffaele’s voice was so toneless it didn’t even sound like a question.
Nate almost said yes. He wanted to say yes, just to see how Raffaele would react.
“No,” he said, not offering any explanation. He didn’t owe it to him. They were just the boss and his PA who fucked sometimes, nothing more. Raffaele had made it clear—and that was all Nate wanted, too. Really.
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Don’t move.”
The relief that hit him was so strong it almost made him forget about his nausea. Almost.
He opened his mouth to say thanks, but the call disconnected.
Nate closed his eyes again and prepared to wait. Just fifteen minutes. He could wait fifteen minutes. Then he would be here. And everything would be all right.
He didn’t know how much time had passed when his phone went off again.
“Nate?” Maya said when he answered. “Where the hell are you? Did you go home with someone?”
Fighting another wave of dizziness, Nate managed, “I’m in the bathroom. Some asshole spiked my drink. I don’t feel good.”
“What—I’m coming!”
A few minutes later, Nate heard some guy chuckle. “This is a men’s restroom.”
“My brother needs my help,” Maya said, undeterred. “Nate?” she said, sounding closer.
“In here,” Nate forced out.
The door rattled. “Open the door, honey,” Maya said.
His hands shaking, Nate reached out and unlocked the door. Or rather, tried to. His limbs felt so damn weak that even the smallest task took a lot of focus.
“Oh my god,” Maya said when he finally managed to do it. “I’m calling 911.”
“No,” Nate said, struggling to focus his gaze on his sister. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine! You look like you’re about to pass out!”
That wasn’t far from the truth, actually.
“I’m fine,” Nate repeated stubbornly.
Maya sighed. “Come on, let’s get you home, then.” She tried to help him to his feet, but it felt like his body weighed a ton, his limbs heavy and hardly cooperating.
Nate moaned, fighting a wave of nausea. “Step back. I might throw up on you.”
“Do you need help?” someone said, presumably to Maya.
“Yes, I’d appreciate that, thank you,” Maya said.
And then hands—big, unfamiliar hands—touched him, trying to haul him to his feet.
Nate fought the hands. “Don’t touch me!” he slurred out.
“Nate, stop that, he’s just trying to help!”
“Don’t need help,” Nate managed, barely stopping himself from puking. Fuck, he felt so dizzy he had to close his eyes and breathe. In and out. In and out.
“Step aside,” came another male voice. A very familiar, very bossy voice.
Nate breathed out. Raffaele was here. He was here. He would take care of him. Of everything.
“Wait a minute…” Maya started saying, but of course Raffaele ignored her.
Although Nate didn’t open his eyes, he immediately recognized the hands on his body. He relaxed into the touch and didn’t resist when Raffaele hauled him to his feet. He buried his face in his boss’s neck, his hands clutching weakly at Raffaele’s back. He breathed in, some of his nausea fading away when he smelled Raffaele’s familiar scent. He smelled so nice. It wasn’t his cologne. Just his skin.