The day goes from bad to worse.
The elevator dings at the nurse’s station, and I glance up, expecting Cora’s parents to come and say their goodbyes.
She didn’t make it.
I still have to call the morgue and have them retrieve the body and bring it down to the basement.
Francesco steps out onto the pediatric unit. “What are you doing on our floor? No visitors.”
I’m not in the mood to deal with his antics, or Alessandro’s, for that matter. I doubt Aurielo gave him orders to stalk me at my job.
“Change of plans,” Francesco says. “You’re done your shift.”
I glance at the clock. “I’m almost done. There are twenty more minutes.” I’m not leaving early because the baboon tells me I’m finished.
“We need to get back to the house, now,” he snarls at me.
Jocelyn comes jetting around the corner and nearly stumbles right into Francesco. She stops herself mid-stride.
Her face is red, splotchy. She’s been crying.
We’ve all been dealing with Cora’s death in different ways.
Me?
I bottle that shit up.
It’s not necessarily the most healthy, but it’s the only way I know how to process death.
“Are you taking off?” Jocelyn asks.
“Yes,” Francesco answers for me.
I open my mouth to say no, but he pins me with his gaze. “Aurielo wants you home.”
“Let me get changed, and I’ll be right out.” I exhale a heavy sigh and head down the hall to get changed.
Jocelyn is on my heel a second later. “What’s with him?” she asks, keeping her voice low.
“What do you mean?” I open my locker, slip out of my sneakers, and strip down out of my scrubs, changing into casual wear, black yoga pants, and an extra comfy t-shirt. Even my clothes are beginning to smell like Aurielo.
“I’ve seen him in the lobby almost every day. I’m pretty sure every day that you’re working.”
Jocelyn’s gone out to lunch far more often than I do, especially with Francesco playing bodyguard. I’ve avoided leaving the floor until my shift is over.
“He works with Aurielo. A hired bodyguard.” I hold up a hand. “Don’t make a big deal about it. Okay?”
“Why do you need a bodyguard?” Jocelyn asks.
The girl never stops with the questions. She’s as inquisitive as Molly, but at least on a six-year-old it’s endearing.
“I don’t know, Aurielo could be worth money. His job is super influential and prestigious. Maybe he’s secretly a billionaire?” I’m trying to distract her from the obvious fact that Francesco looks like a mobster with his dark suit, thick black hair, and the Italian accent to boot.
“You don’t know why he has the Hulk follow you around, do you?” Jocelyn quips.
I slip on my shoes and slam the locker shut. “His name is Francesco,” I correct her. I’m not sure why I’m defending him. He’s been bossy and overbearing. The man is a million times worse to deal with than Aurielo.
At least there’s a physical attraction between Aurielo and myself, which was made evident last night in the bedroom. The room feels several degrees hotter, and I slip past Jocelyn, heading for the open door.