The Boss Assignment (Rogue Protectors Book 3) by Victoria Paige (summer beach reads .TXT) 📕

she wouldn’t think he intended to seduce her—even if that thought did cross his mind—and closed the door. “What issue? Since you work in my lab, it’s my right to know and be the judge of that.”

Her shoulders slumped and she startled when he rested his hand at the small of her back but relaxed again as he guided her to a little sitting area by the French doors that opened to a balcony. Charly collapsed on the chair as though all energy deserted her. She stared at the back of both hands and Antonio noticed the slight tremor on the right one.

“When I’m tired my right hand loses its grip. It also has tremors.”

“Is it neurological? There was nothing in your accident report.”

“I walked away from that accident fine,” she said, bitterness in her tone. “Unfortunately, my mother didn’t survive.” Charly buried her head in her hands. “All because I was too drunk to drive and I begged her to pick me up.”

Antonio was quiet for a few seconds. “You were in your second year of medical school. Is that why you dropped out?” He tried to recall what was in her file. She didn’t drop out until a year later.

Charly shook her head and confirmed what he already knew. “I tried to continue.”

“The accident report said it was a trailer that swung into your lane. It wasn’t your fault.”

The laughter that erupted from Charly’s mouth made Antonio’s hair stand on end. Especially coming from her. It was bitter with self-loathing and disgust that was turned inward.

“Tell that to dad,” she whispered, her right hand quivering as she swept the hair from her face.

Antonio walked over to the drink cabinet and poured a Scotch for himself and for her. He was finding himself curious about what happened to Charlotte Bennett. Straight-A student whose dream was to be a world-class surgeon like her father. He held out the glass of amber liquid and she stared at it for a beat, shrugged and then took it from him. She had the sense to sip on it slowly when he expected her to just gulp it.

“Your father is Doctor William Bennett, head of neurology at UCLA Medical at that time. Your mother’s death must have been hard on him too. Still, he shouldn’t blame you.”

“No? Mom wouldn’t be where she was if I hadn’t called her.”

“Sometimes things happen for a reason.”

This time Charly took a healthy swig from her Scotch and he watched her relish the burn of the liquid, her jaw clenching as she inched that stubborn chin in his direction. “Was that what you said when your mother died? Unable to get the care she needed?”

Antonio stilled, eyes narrowing, and he was about to cut her down, but fair was fair, wasn’t it? If he wanted to extract her pain, then maybe he could do it by being willing to let her see his. “I blamed the system,” he said. “The health center didn’t have enough medicine. Who told you?”

“Ida.”

He nodded. “She always feels people need to understand my single-minded focus to find affordable, life-saving drugs. She makes excuses for me, about why I take over companies with a ruthlessness that others can’t comprehend.”

“You have an honorable motivation,” she said.

“Do I?” he asked and gave a faint smile. “That could be debated. Tell it to the people who were cut down in the restructuring.”

“If you needed to cut the fat in order to manufacture a life-saving product to make it more affordable to the masses, I don’t see a problem with that. Most of what I’ve seen are the bloated salaries of executives anyway, the perks and bonuses of people who do nothing directly to enhance the company’s bottom line.”

Antonio smiled. “Here you were thinking all I wanted was to psychoanalyze you, and, yet I’m the one under scrutiny. But thank you for understanding.” He chewed on his bottom lip and sat down in front of her. “But you haven’t explained the tremor and injury in your hand. When did that happen? You said it wasn’t from the accident. You gave up your dream of becoming a surgeon, obviously, because you can’t be one with dexterity issues.” He paused. “Is it a neurological issue?”

“No. It’s idiopathic in nature. They don’t know the cause.”

“Therapy didn’t help?”

Charly looked away. “I tried it for a year.”

The silence between them stretched and he didn’t know what to say. Apparently neither did Charly, but Antonio was an expert in wanting to fix things without having people dig into his own shit. He fished out his phone and used the walkie-talkie button to call Ida.

“I heard senhorita is not feeling well?” his housekeeper asked.

Instead of answering her, Antonio said, “Ida, do you have Ferion in our first-aid kit?”

“Of course.”

“Bring it to my room.”

“Your room?” He hated the suspicion in Ida’s voice. Did she think he would take advantage of Dr. Bennett? Or was his housekeeper worried for him. That he would fall for the charms of the pretty doctor.

“Yes. Mine.” He ended their chat and lowered the phone.

“What is Ferion?” Charly smiled faintly.

Antonio chuckled. “Ferion is a liniment containing healing herbs and spices steeped in wine, heated, and aged. It’s popular with martial artists who make their own concoctions.”

She looked at him dubiously. “You’re a pharmaceutical conglomerate. Isn’t that Eastern medicine?”

“We have a big presence in China,” Andrade replied. “We adapt to our market.”

“You’re an interesting man, Antonio Andrade,” she murmured. “So what else do you have especially made for the Chinese market?”

He told her about their business in Chinese herbal medicine.

“I’ve heard about those. Not in a good light.”

“I assure you we don’t deal in anything related to animals like the rhino horn or a tiger’s penis,” Antonio stated baldly.

“What?” her eyes bugged out.

He chuckled. “It’s rumored to cure many ailments, but we don’t touch that. We deal with sustainable, plant-based remedies. We have a farm in Wisconsin for ginseng. Chinese prefer American Ginseng and it fetches top dollar—as much as nine thousand per pound.”

“What?”