(Theme Song of the Chapter: Bad Boys - Cierra Ramirez)

Sophie◆Cruz

"My wife wouldn't mind..."

THE BRASH EYES of the older man in front of me made my stomach churn, threatening to regurgitate the Eggo waffles I had for breakfast this morning. His eyes roamed over my whole face before lingering on my chest, and I tugged nervously at the hems of my scrubs, feeling exposed under my patient's gaze. 

I walked over to the counter in the corner of the room, pretending to write something on the clipboard to avoid Earl's unsettling stare.

"Of course you would say that..." I trailed off, my voice tinged with discomfort, before turning to face him. "It's not only completely inappropriate for you to continue making advances toward me at every appointment, but it's also extremely disrespectful..."

He shrugged nonchalantly, his lips curling into a dry smirk. "To who?"

I furrowed my brows at him. "To me..."

and to your wife.

"Oh."

Oh?

Suppressing the anger bubbling up inside me, I bit back a retort and forced a tight smile. "Well, our session here is done," I said tersely. "Just remember to keep up with your exercises at home, and I'm sure you'll continue to make progress."

I watched as Earl got up from his seat, his parting wink sending a shiver down my spine, before he sauntered out of the room. As soon as he left, the tension drained from my body, and I slumped over the counter with a sigh of relief.

Glancing at the clock, I noted that it was 5:00 pm—finally, the end of my shift. I made my way to the break room, grabbing an energy drink from the fridge as I witnessed Edith, my supervisor, approach me with a sympathetic look.

"Long day?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

I nodded wearily. "It's outrageous, Edith. You have to drop him from our patient portal. I can't do this anymore."

"Sophie..." My name comes out of her mouth in a long drawl. "As you know the clinic isn't making much money and Earl and his wife are enrolled to many of our cash-based services. If I drop him, we could all be out of a job."

I sighed, running my hand through my dark brown locks. "I get it, but as a physical therapist, I can't do my job when my patient isn't respecting my boundaries."

I could see Edith narrow her eyes in thought before nodding slowly. "I know."

She motioned for me to follow her to the front desk, where she quickly typed away at the computer before humming to herself in satisfaction.

"Yup, it's right here," She looked up at me with a sly smile. "I can rearrange your Tuesday sessions to replace Earl from your calendar. Apparently, there is a Walter Finboy who is in need of private therapeutic services on Tuesdays and Wednesdays at 4:00."

Walter Finboy? The name did not sound promising at all but whomever he was, he couldn't be more of a creep than Earl. Though I felt bad for whomever would endure Earl's shenanigan's next, I was glad that it would no longer be me.

"Switch me over," I said, unable to hide the desperation in my voice. "And sessions are private?"

"Yes, you'll meet at the client's residence."

I had only ever done a private or at home session for a patient once for an remarkable gymnast who endured a nasty fall but would later qualify for the Olympics. Being her PT and assisting her in overcoming an injury that was otherwise categorized as career ending was the highlight of my career. Those moments reminded me of why I did my job.

I was good at what I did and all my clients could attest to that. I encompassed both medical and traditional remedies in my services with healing secrets passed to me by my Filipina mother. My mother was no physical therapist but she ran her own esthetician clinic.

I watched Edith type away at her computer before she purses her lips and looks up at me.

Edith typed away at her computer before nodding in confirmation. "It's done. Prepare for your first session tomorrow."

◆◆◆

Miami was the playground to some of the most rich and powerful and driving down the long street decorated with Bugatti's and fancy Escalades was evidence of this truth. My humble Buick clashed with the luxuriousness of these Miami beach properties.

My Lola and Lolo often spoke of the enduring power of old money. They said that Miami's rich has a lot of new players but nothing beats the reverence of the old ones. As I pulled into the the large cobblestone driveway and met with yet another gate, I understood what they meant. 

Even with the closed gate I could tell this house was bigger than the rest, the classic Miami rooftops could be seen towering above the gate with gorgeous glass windows that had to be crafted by a world class architect. 

My gaze focuses on the gate in front of me in which the name ACCARDI in cursive font was emblazoned on the steel material. My stomach dropped and my palms began to grow clammy.

Accardi? As in the Accardi Family?

The Accardi Family was one of the most famous families in all of Miami, grand socialites with successful business and investments. There name has been powerful for generations and they were notoriously known for having their hand in politics and culture. They were more than influential. They ran this city.

I had to have put in the wrong address but when I doubled checked I realized there was no error in my part and that this was indeed the correct home.

"Good Afternoon, may I see some identification." A firm low voice questioned me from the intercom to the right of me as I lowered my window.

I pulled out my ID from my wallet and waved it over the camera that was placed above the speaker of the intercom.

"Sophie Cruz with Vitality Rehab & Wellness center. There was a booking for 4:00pm today for Walter Finboy from this address?"

There was utter silence from the other end, and I bit my lip in nervousness fighting the urge to just turn around. But before I could continue to dwell on my next actions the gate opened slowly, the heavy metal creaking thunderously.

My eyes remained to the front of me as I clenched my steering wheel before driving inside the property. My jaw fell open at the full sight of the estate in front of me.

Towering palm trees swayed gently in the warm breeze, framing the entrance to the sprawling estate. The pristine sandstone exterior gleamed in the sunlight, with expansive windows reflecting the blue hues of the sky. Lush greenery adorned the meticulously landscaped grounds. The scent of saltwater lingered in the air, hinting at the nearby ocean.

These weren't new players. They were old players indeed.

I parked my car at the circular end of the large driveway before taking my keys out the ignition. I get out of my car slinging my work bag around immediately met with a bald, white bearded man wearing a navy blue suit.

I looked around to see there were numerous clad dressed men who looked to be armed patrolling the premises of the large estate.

"Don't be weary," The old man said, his British accent heavy and he greeted me with a sly smile. "They are only here for the protection of the Accardi Family...and you don't seem like a threat—you won't deal with them."

"I am looking for a Walter Finboy..." I stated looking at the man's curious gaze.

He smiled to himself. "I am he, but I am not in need of your services."

I squinted my eyes in confusion. "Then why did you—"

"For formalities. It's to protect Mr. Accardi's information from unwanted third parties."

Mr. Accardi?

All I knew was the late Ricardo Accardi had three sons, each a figure of intrigue in Miami's social circles.

"You see, Mr. Accardi endured an injury a month ago and his left shoulder has been causing a great inconvenience for the busy man."

I nodded to myself slowly still trying to comprehend what was going on.

"Anyways," Walter said quickly. "Let's get you situated."

I watched as he opened the grand doors of the mansion for me and I slowly walked inside. The cool air of the house tickled my skin as I took in the luxurious interior. I followed Walter up the steps of the grand staircase, and he brought me into a large room with a long black cushioned chair and a desk not too far from where I stood.

The floor was matted and there was a large mirror that covered the entire front wall. It looked to be a work out room with all of the appliances taken out.

"Will this do?" Walter asked eyeing me closely.

I hid my hint of skepticism with a sunny smile. "Yeah, this is perfect."

"Mr. Accardi will join you soon."

Left alone, I surveyed the room, my nerves bubbling with anticipation. Stepping deeper into the well-lit room, I eased into the chair on the opposite side of the desk. Nervously, I toyed with my fingers. This would be my most famous client ever and I had no idea whom of the men in the Accardi family it would be.

Suddenly, firm footsteps echoed across the room. I lifted my gaze from my hands and met a pair of dark, chocolate-brown eyes. My throat tightened as I took in the tall figure before me, my eyes widening in quiet surprise.

Aiden Accardi.

The middle child of the Accardi brothers and being the one who took over his father's billion dollar private security firm and opened multiple clubs across Miami city, his name was frequently plastered on every tabloid of Miami—even with that, he was still a mystery. I had only seen him on magazines and local gossip sites I would read during shift breaks, but here he was standing before me.

His serious eyes watched me from the door way as his shirtless figure exposes all the tattoos that decorated his toned body. His dark hair messily framed his face and his sweatpants hung low on his hips.

"Tae..." I said under my breath. (Filipino| shit).

I guess I was too loud because his thick brows furrowed at me. He crossed his arms against his large build and his large muscles clenched.

"What?" His voice carried a low, gravelly edge, the word weighted just enough to make the air around us feel heavier.

I shook my head at him flushed before fumbling with my bag that sat on top of the desk. "Mr. Accardi, is it?"

What a dumb question. I knew who he was, and I was pretty sure he knew I knew who he was.

He nodded his head steadily at me and I see him study me intently, his eyes running up my body before settling at my eyes. He was completely observing me and it wasn't in a creepy way like Earl, it was in this daunting attentive way as if he was trying to understand my very being. As if he was trying to find something...searching for something.

"Let's get this over with," He said, but it was almost commanding with his tone of voice.

I watched as he sat himself down on the bench with his long legs sprawling apart naturally and his large hands rested firmly on his sides. I turned around, rummaging in my bag for all my tools with a feeling lingering over my back I couldn't grasp. No, it wasn't just nervousness...it was something else.

I turned back to him and noticed a freshly healed wound near his shoulder. I moved closer to him, the scent of his cologne—masculine and musky—filled my senses. I gently placed my hands on his shoulder, my fingers deftly massaging the taut muscles around the injury. The contact sent an overwhelming amount of shivers down my spine.

I found myself glancing back at the wound, every now and then there was this zealous instinct in me to know what happened to him.

That same zealous instinct took notice of the way Aiden Accardi looked at me.

And it needed more.

◆◆◆

Hey, lovelies! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of my new novel Call Him Sick. I am a huge lover of dark steamy romance so this has been an idea that has lingered my mind for quite some time, and I decided to just go for it and bring it to life. Please make sure to vote, comment, follow, and put into your reading list or library for updates.

xoxo

-V