Everything I love gets destroyed. First, my biological family, then my adoptive parents. (Or at least I thought.) My life is a wreck, the only control I have is my mafia and company. Until one man decides he wants to change that. Fredrico Rossi, a...
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It's been three weeks and I have been strictly on bed rest. Naveen even had the nerve to lock me inside my room from the outside because I tried to go to work.
I picked the lock and got out anyway. Blair helped me sneak out a few times.
My concussion is gone and the scratches on my back have mostly healed. The only thing his the large cut on my shoulder and the large cut on the back of my thigh.
I started working out again and building my strength secretly this week. Naveen wouldn't let me near a gym.
But he had a meeting today. So I could workout freely with my headphones on.
My shoulder was burning from the pull ups, but I kept going. Until Fredrico stood in front of me.
I hang on with one arm and take off my headphones and put them around my neck. "What are you doing here?" I ask breathlessly.
I haven't seen him since that awkward situation when Ivy called him Dada. I've also been ignoring his call on the phone he gave me. But I did break into his penthouse to get my purse back from the crash.
We missed the charity event as well because Naveen said I wasn't better yet. I was happy about that because I didn't have to fake a relationship with Fredrico.
"Do you need another phone?" He asks.
"Yeah. I think it's broken," I tell him and do another pull up. "You might need to take it to the store to get it fixed."
"Aren't you supposed to be resting? Your shoulder is fucked up." He asks.
I ignore his question. "Why are you at my house? I didn't invite you and you're not really welcomed here."
He frowns and puts a hand on his chest. "Ouch Valentina. That stung."
"Really? I was hoping it would be excruciatingly painful." I mumble sarcastically and do another pull up.
My face scrunches in pain as my arms shook with each slight movement.
He ignores my comment. "How many more you got left?" He asks.
"Seven," I answer and let out a tired breath.
He takes off his suit jacket and reaches up and grabs onto the bar, caging my arms inside of his. "What are you doing?" I ask.
"I'll help you with your last seven. You look like you're on the verge of crying and I know you'll feel like a failure if you don't finish."
"How do you know how I'll feel?" I ask.
"Because you always get things done even if you're on the brink of exhaustion. Once you start something you have to finish it, or you lose control." He answered.
"You're assumption is wrong," I tell him.
He's right. I hate that he's right.
He hums, "whatever helps you sleep Valentina. Now wrap your legs around me."
