Chapter 3
Massimo continued to stare up at her, the dark wet hair falling into his piercing eyes. He searched her face for a bluff, for a micro-expression of fear or hesitation. He found nothing. Tessa was an immovable object meeting an unstoppable force that had temporarily lost its momentum.
Slowly, the tension drained from Massimo’s broad shoulders. The fight left him, replaced by a suffocating, bitter resignation that was far worse than the anger. He released his death grip on the armrests and let his tattooed arms drop heavily into his lap, right against the dark charcoal towel.
"Unlock the brakes," Massimo muttered, turning his face away to stare at the blank white wall.
Tessa immediately dropped her hand. Her posture softened slightly, returning to a state of professional neutrality. She walked behind the chair, unlocking the brakes with two swift clicks, and guided the wheelchair effortlessly toward the massive shower enclosure.
The process was deeply methodical. Tessa turned on the chrome fixtures, letting the water warm up and fill the vast space with a thick, comforting steam. The bright video colors of the room softened under the mist. Massimo sat in silence, his eyes closed, enduring the absolute humiliation of his physical dependence.
"I am locking the wheels," Tessa announced smoothly. "Lean forward."
She handled him with absolute clinical precision. There was no pity in her touch, no condescension, only a firm, highly professional medical care. She assisted him in transferring from the wheelchair to the reinforced teak wood bench built into the shower wall. The dark towel remained across his lap until he was safely seated, at which point she draped it over the chair and handed him a fresh, warm washcloth.
"I will wash your back and your lower extremities," Tessa stated, keeping her voice completely level. "You will handle the rest."
Massimo didn't argue. He took the washcloth in his heavily tattooed hand. The warm water cascaded over his broad, muscular shoulders, washing away the cold sweat of his earlier rage. Tessa moved behind him, her fitted navy caregiver uniform resisting the dampness as she wore her light gray apron. She used a specialized sponge, her movements rhythmic and entirely non-graphic.
"You have a pressure mark forming on your lower lumbar," Tessa noted aloud, her fingers pressing gently against the base of his spine. "You haven't been shifting your weight in the chair."
"I can't feel it," Massimo replied coldly, the reality of his paralysis hanging heavy in the steam.
"I know," Tessa said. "Which is exactly why you have to let me do my job. If the skin breaks down, you risk infection. And an infection will keep you out of your office for a month."
May you like
Massimo turned his head slightly. "You read my file."
"I read everything," Tessa confirmed, turning off the water. "I know you run this city. I know people are terrified of you. But in this room, Massimo, you are just a spinal cord injury. And I am the only one who can help you get your independence back."
