Chapter 11: He Cares

Allizander's POV.

I didn't sleep. Not for a single second.

How was I supposed to close my eyes when the most dangerous man in the country was breathing rhythmically against the back of my neck?

I spent the entire night staring at the digital clock on my bedside table, watching the red numbers blink away the hours.

Every time Gio shifted, my heart did a frantic somersault. At one point, he let out a low groan in his sleep and draped his heavy, muscular arm across my waist.

I froze, my breath hitching. His hand was dangerously close to my chest binder. If he moved even three inches up, the game was over. My secret, my mother’s medical fund, and my life would be extinguished in one confused squeeze.

I tried to pull away, but he was like an anchor, warm and immovable. I just lay there, a stiff, anxious mess, praying for the sun to rise.

When the first light of dawn finally filtered through the curtains, Gio stirred. He let out a long, satisfied sigh, his grip loosening as he blinked his eyes open.

He looked at me—hair mussed, eyes probably red-rimmed and hollow—and a slow, smug smirk pulled at his lips.

"Morning, Samson," he rumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

He leaned on one elbow, looking far too refreshed for someone who had just broken into his employee's bed. "What’s with the face? Couldn't sleep with the backfire of your own teasing?"

I rolled my eyes, though it felt like they were full of sand. "I'm a light sleeper, Boss. Hard to rest when you're being used as a body pillow by a man who weighs as much as a small car."

I scrambled out of bed before he could say another word, my legs feeling like jelly. "If you’re done with your nap, leave. I need to get ready."

"I’m not leaving until you do," he said simply, sitting up.

The morning light caught the sharp lines of his jaw and the relaxed, almost soft expression on his face. When he looked at me and actually smiled—not a smirk, but a genuine, lazy smile—my heart did that annoying double-thud again.

I ignored him, grabbed my things, and practically bolted out of the room. As we stepped into the hallway together, we ran right into Jett.

Jett stopped dead, his gaze darting between me, Gio, and the bedroom door. "Uh... Boss? Did you get lost on the way to the bathroom, or did the nurse’s quarters suddenly become the executive suite?"

"He wanted company," Gio said coolly, walking past him as if nothing was wrong.

"Company?" I snorted, overcompensating for my nerves.

"He was scared of the monsters in his room again. He even hugged me while he was sleeping. Poor guy is a clingy sleeper."

I didn't wait for a reaction. I walked away, hearing Jett whisper behind me, "Man, he’s got the attitude of a girl on her period today. What did you do to him, Boss?"

The rest of the day was a blur. I was a total zombie. I avoided everyone, especially Gio. I only spoke to him when I was forced to check his vitals, keeping my words short and clinical. I didn't even join the Kards for lunch; I spent the afternoon in the garden, staring at the fountain and wondering how my life had devolved into sharing a bed with a mafia don.

By the time midnight rolled around, the atmosphere in the house had shifted. The joking was gone. Spade, Club, and Jett were decked out in tactical gear, checking their sidearms with grim efficiency.

We piled into a sleek black van, the engine purring like a predator.

Everyone was silent, their attention fixed on the mission ahead. I sat in the back seat, Gio beside me. I still ignored him, though I could feel his gaze lingering. Instead, I rested my head against the cool glass of the window, letting the chill steady me.

I hadn’t eaten since morning, and my stomach was staging a violent protest. The hunger, mixed with too little sleep, made my head spin. A wave of nausea rolled through me—the sharp, hollow kind that comes when your blood sugar drops too low.

"Gio," I croaked, my voice cracking. "Stop at a drive-thru. Now."

Gio, who was staring at a tablet, didn't even look up. "We are on a schedule, Samson. We don't stop for snacks."

"I’m serious," I said, my voice trembling. "I'm really hungry. I feel like I'm going to vomit."

Jett looked back from the passenger seat, his expression sympathetic but firm. "Come on, kid, bear with it. We’re ten minutes from the drop point. We'll get a feast after the mission, okay?"

"No! Not after!" I snapped. The exhaustion and the physical discomfort finally broke through my filter. To my horror, I felt hot tears prickling my eyes. It wasn't that I was a crybaby; I was just physically spent and starving. "I can't... I need to eat now."

Gio finally looked up. He saw the way I was trembling, the way my eyes were tearing up, and his expression shifted from irritation to something unreadable. He stared at me for a long beat, then sighed.

"Jett. Find the nearest place with a drive-thru. Now."

"But Boss, the timing—"

"I said now!" Gio barked.

Five minutes later, we were at a 24-hour burger joint. Gio didn't just order a snack; he ordered half the menu. Bags of burgers, fries, and shakes were passed into the van.

The Kards sat in stunned silence as I ripped into a box of fries like a feral animal. The food hit my system, and the world finally stopped spinning.

Feeling a bit guilty for the delay, I grabbed a fry and held it out to Gio. "Here. For the trouble."

Gio stared at the fry as if I were holding a live grenade.

The van went so quiet you could hear the air conditioning hum. Slowly, incredibly, he leaned forward and ate it right out of my hand.

Jett’s jaw hit the floor. Encouraged, I turned and held a fry out to Jett. "Want one, Heart?"

"I—"

"Are you tired of living, Jett?" Gio’s voice was suddenly ice-cold. He was glaring at Jett with a look of pure murder. "Decide now: do you want to die this evening or tommorow morning?"

Jett put his hands up, looking terrified. "I'm full! Totally full! Never been less hungry in my life!"

"Good," Gio snapped. He looked at me, his gaze softening just a fraction. "Keep feeding me, Samson. Since you've already ruined the schedule, you might as well make yourself useful."

I teased him through the rest of the drive, feeling my energy return. But as the van finally slowed to a crawl near the dark, looming silhouette of the harbor warehouses, the humor evaporated.

I reached for my medical bag, ready to follow them out, but Gio’s hand clamped down on my shoulder, pinning me to the seat.

"Stay in the car," he commanded.

"What? No, I’m your nurse—"

"You’re a liability in a gunfight," Gio said, his voice dropping to that professional, lethal tone. "Wait here. Keep the doors locked, and finish your food. Don't come out unless I'm the one calling for you."