Chapter 1 - THE MAN WHO COULDN'T STAND
A Mafia boss offered me $50,000 to help him walk again, then tried to humiliate me before I’d even touched his wheelchair. I insulted him right back, and instead of firing me like the three nurses before me, Massimo Pascale canceled every interview for my replacement.
Two days earlier, I’d been sitting in a Boston rehabilitation clinic staring at the letter that could destroy everything I’d worked for.
Three tuition payments overdue.
Fourteen days before I lost my place in my neurological physical therapy doctorate.
Eight years of sacrifice, disappearing because I couldn’t find enough money.
Then my friend Camila called.
“Fifty thousand dollars,” she told me over coffee. “Three months.”
I almost laughed.
Nobody paid that kind of money for private rehabilitation.
Then she gave me the name.
Massimo Pascale.
Thirty-eight years old. Severe spinal trauma. Multiple surgeries. His doctors believed his paralysis might be temporary, but recovery would require relentless rehabilitation.
There was one problem.
“Three nurses have already quit,” Camila admitted.
“Why?”
She hesitated.
“Because Massimo Pascale is used to controlling everyone around him.”
I frowned. “And?”
“And his family is organized crime.”
Every sensible thought in my head told me to walk away.
Then I remembered the tuition letter folded inside my bag.
“Is the fifty thousand guaranteed?”
“Yes.”
Two days later, a black sedan carried me through iron gates surrounding a mansion outside Boston.
Armed men watched me enter.
Massimo waited near enormous windows in a motorized wheelchair.
He wasn’t what I expected.
Young. Broad-shouldered. Dark-haired. Handsome in the intimidating way that made you understand why people lowered their voices around him.
His eyes traveled over me.
His expression hardened.
“You’re too small.”
The guard behind me froze.
Apparently, people didn’t argue with Massimo Pascale.
Unfortunately for him, desperation had burned most of the fear out of me.
I placed my medical bag on the table.
“And you’re too rude.”
Silence swallowed the room.
Massimo stared at me.
I suddenly wondered whether fifty thousand dollars was worth dying for.
Then he laughed.
Just once.
The guard looked more shocked than I felt.
“Everyone else was afraid of me,” Massimo said.
“I’m not everyone else.”
I opened my evaluation folder.
“I need to assess your legs.”
“No.”
I looked directly at him. “Then I’ll document that you refused treatment.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You’d put that in writing?”
“I put everything in writing.”
Something shifted in his expression.
Not anger.
Interest.
Then he turned toward his guard.
“Cancel the interviews.”
My stomach dropped.
“What interviews?”
Massimo looked back at me.
“For your replacement.”
That was when I understood.
I’d entered his house believing I desperately needed this job.
But somehow, within five minutes, the most dangerous man I had ever met had decided he needed me more.
And I had no idea what that decision was going to cost us both.
“My name is Elena Carter,” I said, opening my folder again. “And before we begin, there are three things you need to understand.”
Massimo tilted his head.
“Only three?”
“First, I don't take orders about clinical decisions from your security staff. Second, your physician determines medical restrictions. Third, I cannot promise you'll walk again.”
The amusement disappeared from his face.
“Then what am I paying you for?”
“An honest chance to recover as much function as possible.”
He stared at me.
“You think that's worth fifty thousand dollars?”
“I think your independence is worth more. But I won't sell you a miracle.”
For the first time, he looked away.
Outside, rain struck the windows.
“Everybody promises me things,” he said.
“Then everybody's been making a mistake.”
I pulled up a chair.
“May I ask you something?”
He shrugged.
“Do you want to get better?”
His eyes snapped toward mine.
“What kind of question is that?”
“A serious one.”
“Of course I do.”
“Then why did you refuse the assessment?”
His jaw tightened.
For a moment, I thought he'd throw me out.
Instead, he said, “Because every time somebody touches my legs, I remember the accident.”
I closed the folder.
That was the first honest thing he'd said to me.
“What happened?”
His expression became unreadable.
“A car went off a bridge.”
“Were you driving?”
“No.”
“Who was?”
Massimo looked toward the rain.
“My younger brother.”
The room grew quiet.
May you like
Then he added:
“He walked away.”
