Love in the ER

CHAPTER 33

It was late afternoon when Paris received the call from Lucía. She had been sitting at her kitchen table, absently sipping a cup of tea, when her phone buzzed. Seeing Oliver's mother's name on the screen, she quickly picked up, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"Lucía, hi! How are you?" Paris greeted warmly, though she could immediately sense that something was off in Lucía's tone.

"Paris, querida, I'm sorry to bother you, but I need your help." Lucía's voice was tinged with worry. "Sofia is sick, and I was hoping..." she hesitated slightly, "...that you might be able to come over and help take care of her for a few days. She adores you, and I think having you around would make her feel better."

Paris's heart softened instantly at the mention of Sofia. She loved Oliver's little sister and had grown close to her over time. Whenever Sofia had been in the hospital for check-ups or treatments, Paris had always been the one to comfort her, and they had formed a sweet bond.

"Of course, Lucía. I'll come right over," Paris said without hesitation. "How bad is it?"

Lucía sighed softly. "She's running a fever and can barely get out of bed. The doctor says it's just a bad flu, but she's been miserable, and it's breaking my heart to see her like this." Lucía paused, her voice softening. "I've set up the guest room for you if you'd like to stay. It would make things easier for you to be close by."

Paris hesitated. While she was eager to help Sofia, the idea of staying at the Salameda house made her nervous—especially with Rodrigo around. Lucía had always been kind and welcoming, but Oliver's father was another story. He had made it clear on more than one occasion that he didn't approve of Paris, and the thought of staying under his roof for more than a few hours made her stomach twist.

"I'll definitely come help with Sofia, but... I'm not sure about staying the night," Paris said carefully, trying to keep her tone neutral.

Lucía's voice softened further, as if she could sense Paris's hesitation. "Don't worry about Rodrigo. I'll handle him. You'll have your own space, and I know Sofia would love having you close by."

Paris bit her lip, torn between her desire to help Sofia and her discomfort with Rodrigo's disapproving presence. She took a deep breath and nodded, even though Lucía couldn't see her. "Okay. I'll come right over, and we'll see how things go."

"Thank you, querida. Sofia will be so happy to see you."

A couple of hours later, Paris arrived at the Salameda estate, her heart pounding slightly as she made her way up the grand driveway. Lucía met her at the door with a warm smile, pulling her into a quick hug.

"Thank you for coming, Paris. It means the world to me, and I know Sofia's been asking for you."

Paris smiled softly. "I'm happy to be here. How is she?"

Lucía sighed, leading Paris inside. "She's still running a fever, but the doctor says it should break soon. She's mostly just resting now, but I know having you around will brighten her spirits."

Paris followed Lucía up the stairs, her nerves growing as they passed Rodrigo's office. The door was closed, but just knowing he was inside made her uneasy. She had always felt his cold, disapproving stare whenever they crossed paths, and though he never said anything outright, his disapproval was clear. It was as if he saw her as someone who didn't belong in the Salameda world—a gold digger or an outsider unworthy of his son.

Lucía seemed to notice Paris's unease and squeezed her arm gently. "Don't worry about Rodrigo. He can be... difficult, but he's harmless."

Paris nodded, though the tension in her chest didn't ease. She knew that Rodrigo wasn't harmless when it came to her. He had power in this family, and he had never been shy about his desire to see Oliver end up with someone more "suitable" in his eyes.

Lucía opened the door to Sofia's room, where the young girl lay bundled up under layers of blankets. Her face lit up the moment she saw Paris.

"Paris!" Sofia croaked, her voice weak but filled with excitement. "You're here."

Paris smiled warmly, walking over to sit beside Sofia on the bed. "Of course I'm here, Sofi. How are you feeling?"

Sofia sniffled and shrugged. "Not great. But now that you're here, maybe I'll get better faster."

Paris chuckled softly, brushing Sofia's hair back gently. "I'll do my best to make that happen."

For the next few days, Paris stayed at the Salameda house during the day, spending time with Sofia, bringing her food, and sitting with her while she rested. Sofia's fever began to ease, and though she was still weak, her spirits seemed to lift whenever Paris was around.

Lucía had repeatedly offered the guest room to Paris, encouraging her to stay overnight, but Paris continued to decline. She didn't feel comfortable staying in the same house as Rodrigo, even if Lucía had tried to reassure her.

On the third evening, as Paris was getting ready to leave for the night, she was making her way down the stairs when she heard a voice behind her.

"Paris, may I have a word?"

She turned, already feeling her pulse quicken when she saw Rodrigo standing at the foot of the stairs, his hands clasped behind his back, his expression cold and unreadable.

"Of course, Mr. Salameda," Paris said politely, though her voice was a little tighter than usual.

Rodrigo walked toward her, his steps measured and deliberate. He stopped in front of her, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I appreciate that you've been helping with Sofia. She seems to like you a great deal."

"I care about her very much," Paris replied cautiously, not sure where this conversation was heading.

Rodrigo's expression darkened, his voice lowering as he took a step closer. "I don't know what you think you're doing here, Paris, but I want to be clear about something. Don't get too comfortable in this house—or in this family."

Paris's stomach clenched, her worst fears confirmed. Rodrigo was making it clear that she wasn't welcome, despite everything she had done for Sofia.

"I don't know what you mean," Paris replied, keeping her voice steady even though her heart was racing.

Rodrigo's eyes narrowed further. "I think you know exactly what I mean. Oliver is my son, and this family has a reputation to uphold. We don't need outsiders like you coming in and disrupting things. I've seen women like you before—thinking you can use affection to climb your way into something you don't belong to."

Paris's chest tightened, her hands trembling slightly at his words. She wanted to fight back, to defend herself, but she could barely find the words. Rodrigo's disdain for her was clear, and it was painful to hear it spoken aloud.

"I'm not trying to disrupt anything," Paris managed to say, her voice trembling slightly. "I love your son."

Rodrigo's lips pressed into a thin line, his voice icy. "Love is irrelevant. What matters is reputation, and you don't fit into ours. I'm warning you, Paris—don't get too comfortable here. Because your time in Oliver's life is limited."

Paris swallowed hard, her mind spinning as Rodrigo turned and walked away, leaving her standing on the stairs, shaken and speechless.