Trained By The Boss by Charlotte Storm & C.C. Wylde

Author:Charlotte Storm & C.C. Wylde [Storm, Charlotte & Wylde, C.C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wylde Storm Publishing
Published: 2018-06-20T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

In the small moment of grace between full consciousness and the mind-body connection, I find an instant of peace. An instant where my life feels, for the first time, like it’s on the trajectory it’s supposed to be on. Like I’m finally becoming the man, not who my parents want me to be, but who I truly am.

Then reality drops me off a ten story building. Face first.

My nerve endings are the first thing to come back online. The assholes. Why they’d want to be in a hurry to wake up is beyond me.

“Aiden?” A gruff, tired voice sounds to my right.

I try and open my eyes, get a look at the man the voice belongs to. The man I belong to. But damn if my eyelids want to cooperate. Okay, fine. Plan B.

Forcing my tongue to wet parched lips, I clear my throat. “Yes, sir.”

Wow. I sound fucking wrecked. By the sound of every molecule in my body screaming in agony at once, I’d say I am wrecked.

Griffin’s cologne wraps me in his familiar scent when he stands, the breeze of his movements making even the air obey him. A nearby door opens followed by muffled voices.

Someone else enters the room. A nurse by the way they talk to me, take my vitals.

“He’s in pain,” Griffin says to the nurse as if he’s the one in pain. “Can’t you give him something before you check on all that shit?”

The nurse might not appreciate being strong-armed, but he gives me the good stuff anyway.

I breathe a sigh of relief when the morphine kicks in. Moments later, the door clicks closed. Griffin takes my hand in his and sits with me, not saying a word.

“What are you doing here?” I ask in the silence between us.

“Do you want me to go?” His voice sounds defeated, exhausted in the way that tells me he hasn’t slept, possibly in days.

No, that can’t be right. Dinner was just last night, wasn’t it?

“No!” I say a little too forcefully. My ribs let me know. “No, sir. I just...um, how did you know I was here?”

Where the hell is here, anyway?

I force my eyes open, make them focus on something other than Griffin Hart. The sterile walls, beeping machines, and hospital bed tell me everything I need to know.

“What do you mean how did I know?” he asks.

Slowly, as if I’m something breakable, my boss reaches out, brushes the back of his hand across my cheek.

“Aiden, you’ve been in a medically induced coma for three days.”

Three days? What the hell?

“Bruised ribs, cranial swelling, internal bleeding, not to mention the damage to your face and jaw. You’re lucky your father didn’t break it.”

“Lucky?” I don’t feel lucky.

Running his fingers through his disheveled hair, Griffin drops his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know things were this bad for you at home. I would’ve never—”

I try and sit up straighter, push to a more comfortable position. The ribs he’d mentioned were bruised do a fantastic job of telling me that themselves.

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