In the shadowy underworld of organized crime, two individuals stand poised on opposite sides of the law, each concealing their true identity behind a veil of secrets. Frost is a fierce and determined woman driven by a desire for justice and vengeanc...
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FIRE
As evening descends, my thoughts once again drift to Katherine. The desire to visit her consumes me, the need to see her undeniable. If she gives me another glance, she cannot escape me.
I make my way to Albert's room, intending to distract myself momentarily. But as I enter, Albert greets me with a playful remark about my frequent visits. "Visiting me twice a day, too much love for me to handle," he jokes.
I play along, smacking him lightly on the head in jest. "Hey," he protests, laughing.
Suddenly, a voice interrupts us, and I turn to see Katherine standing in the doorway, her presence filling the room with the intoxicating scent of milk and honey. My heart skips a beat at the sight of her, but I quickly compose myself, masking my surprise with a casual demeanor.
"He is a patient, and you cannot hit him," she says firmly, addressing me. Her tone is stern, but there's a hint of concern in her eyes as they flicker between Albert and me.
Before I can respond, she turns to Albert, her tone softening. "You should rest, Albert. I'll take care of this," she says, gently guiding him to lie back down.
As Albert complies, Katherine turns back to me, her gaze piercing. "Who are you to him? And what is your name?" she asks, her voice tinged with authority.
Before I could respond, Katherine interjects firmly, "See, Mr. Whatever, hitting a patient is unacceptable behavior. If you repeat this, I will have to ban you from entering the hospital," her tone leaving no room for argument.
I stand before her, towering over her as she barely comes above my shoulders. "My name is Cruz, señorita," I say, a hint of charm lacing my voice.
She responds with a puzzled expression, struggling to comprehend my words. "Huh," she murmurs, clearly taken aback.
"You asked me my name; it is Cruz Romano, señorita," I repeat, a smirk playing on my lips.
"Hey, Mr. Whatever, my name is not 'senorita.' I am Katherine," she asserts firmly, her tone leaving no room for misunderstanding. I chuckle and say in Spanish that I like calling her "señorita." She clearly doesn't understand, so she leaves the room with a huff.
On my way back home, I spot Katherine engaged in a heated argument with someone who appears to be a doctor. Concerned, I call out to her, lowering the window glass of my expensive car. She looks at me, and I can see a glimmer of hope in her eyes.
"Katherine," I call out, concern evident in my voice.
She turns towards me, and there's a flicker of recognition in her eyes. "Cruz," she responds, her voice tinged with relief.
As she approaches the car, she explains, "My boyfriend is here," and starts moving towards me.
I'm taken aback by her words. When did I become her boyfriend?
