Chapter 7 - Let me take care of you

When she reopened her eyes, Samantha found herself lying in a bed. At first she felt disoriented, but then, she realized she'd been well acquainted with every bit of that cot, from the sheets to the very consistence of the mattress ...

Looking around, spotting the familiar furniture, only confirmed her idea, the ultimate proof came from the concerned and affectionate voice coming from beside the bed, at her right: "Oh ... you're finally awake! Damn, it took you forever!"

Samantha blinked her eyes at her employer, not understanding why was he so worried. She felt a harsh savor in her mouth, and a dull ache in her head, not to mention her wrist. "What ... why ... why am I here?"

Lucas bit his lip, standing from the not very comfortable armchair that had kinda made his bones all sore, to go to sit beside her, at the right edge of bed. "You passed out", he explained as he reached for the small cloth on her forehead, forcing calmness into his every move, "in the office, a few hours ago", he continued, wetting the same cloth in a small basin, only to then place it back on her forehead, causing her to flinch, though maybe it was more about his conclusive words: "I'll admit you scared the shit out of me, Sam."

"It ... it still doesn't explain why am I here, in your bedroom ...", she mumbled, ignoring the butterflies banqueting in her stomach at the nickname. She didn't need explanations, she knew all too well what had happened. She'd had a panic attack. Plain and simple. 1

She'd ceased having such episodes since a long while ... those frilly feelings were messing with her mind more than just heart, they were sending her off balance, taking control of out her hands, hence, the panic attack. It'd been not routine, but certainly the fastest response her organism gave every time it was shaken up, put to a tough test.

It wasn't about practical things, she was perfectly capable of those, for instance, she might find trouble speaking in public, but discussing her thesis in front of a dozen professors and at least a hundred students hadn't been particularly hard.

No, panic attacks usually happened when Samantha felt control slip out of her hands, the proverbial rug being pulled out from under her feet. And what else could do that more than feelings? More specifically, falling in love.1

Falling. That was the whole point. Falling in love implied a leap that one like Samantha, so attached to self control, could never be willing to take, and the sole fact that she kept being shoved into it only enhanced her panic. Hence, the attack.

Lucas instead, he cracked a small, gentle smile, all anger gone in favor of concern first, tenderness now. "I couldn't leave you there on the floor, could I?" he joked, moving a small strand of hair behind her ear. "My doctor saw you, said you're gonna be fine, you just need to rest for a couple of days, and take medicines in case pain gets too strong."

"Pain?" she asked, unconsciously slipping out of his grip, for how little she could, given her predicament. Avoid touch at all costs was a must, if she didn't want to lose. It was always about that delicate balance that keeping her heart safe implied. Just one wrong move, and she would regret it dearly, winding up like her.1

Lucas' smile fell as he recalled. "I'm sorry", he apologized.

She frowned, marveled, "Why?", she asked, puzzled. Had he ... no, he wouldn't, or would he? No, he wouldn't. He would never lay a hand on her other than gently. Then again, she'd heard that word, 'sorry', so many times from someone that didn't mean it at all, what told her Lucas wasn't the same?1

"I didn't move fast enough, I couldn't catch you ... as you fell, you hit head and wrist."

Ah, so that's why the dull ache, Samantha realized, feeling ashamed for having doubted of him. It came natural, but Lucas really didn't deserve it. She nodded in understanding. What annoyed her the most wasn't having gotten hurt, it'd happened a lot, it was more about Lucas having witnessed one of her panic attacks.

She knew how it worked: first her hands started quivering, getting clammy, then her heartbeat increased to a fool pace, her legs started giving out, her mind got dizzy, and then, inevitably, everything shut down. She'd trying controlling it for years, but all she'd gotten to was relenting the symptoms, however, when she felt truly escapeless, blacking out became inevitable.

And Lucas had seen that, he'd seen her in her most vulnerable moment. She hated it. He was slowly crawling his way into her heart, sneaking into her every thought, messing with her mind, weakening her, and she had no idea how to stop it. But she had to.

Samantha slowly sat up, despite Lucas' attempts at preventing it, and gaped at her right wrist, finding it plastered, she then reached for her head, flinching the slightest when she got to that specific spot where the scar still marked one of the worst episodes of her life, but sighing out of relief when she noticed no bandage. 1

The doctor thought it wasn't needed, seeing as there was no injury, although there was a patch on her forehead, just beside her left temple, and a wet cloth was needed to keep her temperature low, given the chances of fever in case of head injuries, Lucas explained, and she nodded, mostly relieved that he seemingly hadn't found out about that scar on her scalp.

"Thank you", she mumbled.

He smiled lightly, shaking his head as he reached out for her hand, taking it in his. "No need. It's only the beginning", he murmured, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb.

Samantha inevitably shied away, once more slipping out of his grip, and better sat. She looked around. Definitely his bedroom ... why hadn't he simply put her in one the guest rooms? But more importantly, why had he taken her to his place and not hers? "I ... need to go home", she removed the blankets and the cloth from her forehead, and tried sitting on the left edge of the bed, opposite to his.

Standing was tricky, her head felt still dizzy, and she was sure it probably had to do with that previous injury, not to mention the other blow. She brought her left hand to the patch on her temple, feeling only a slight pain, which was good news. She planted her feet on the ground while Lucas watched, not saying anything, wondering how long would it take before she gave up her stubborn ideas1

and trusted him with her healing process. Samantha took a deep breath, and put pressure on her feet, in order to stand, she succeeded, but it was barely a second, then her head started spinning faster, and she fell back onto the bed, the dull ache getting stronger.

Lucas swiftly bypassed the bed, and went to stand in front of her. "You need to rest for a couple of days", he repeated, placing his hands on her shoulders, in order to keep her from standing.

"I ... I need to go home, I ...", Samantha escaped his grip, trying to stand again, instead winding up having to lean against Lucas himself not to fall.

"Sam ..." he called tenderly, gripping her hips to steady her.

She shook her head lightly, causing it to ache and spin more, which resulted in her having to place that heavy weight on his shoulder, feeling like she could collapse any moment now. She did not want neither like to rely on him, but as of right now, Lucas was the sole anchor that kept her up, standing on her feet.

"Just relax, okay?" Lucas murmured sweetly just above her ear, bringing her closer to his frame. "You're gonna stay here for the weekend, I'll take care of you, and by Monday you'll be perfectly fine", he bargained, letting his arms slide over her back, in a gentle embrace that was meant to both get a better hold of her, in case she fell, and to convince her he was not harmful.

Anybody else would have been hurt, knowing that, despite what they shared, despite having known each other since almost a year now, she still didn't trust him one bit, but Lucas was well aware that this particular daisy was a tough one.

A tough nut to crack, he kept reminding himself. His tough nut, the one that seemed to be taking possession of his heart bit by bit, day by day, and at this point, he was way beyond fighting. Maybe a relationship with Samantha would be difficult, maybe he ought to work harder than ever to carve out the time to both handle his business and take care of such complicated girlfriend, but hey, Sam was worth it, as his heart kept repeating. His Sammy was worth every second of his time, every beat of his heart, every thought spent on her, every effort made to gain her trust.2

Samantha shook her head against his shoulder, hating herself for being so vulnerable. "No, I ... I ... Sky, it's ... I need to go home ..."1

Lucas cracked a half smile, daring to place his chin on her head as he cuddled her. "It's alright, I called your neighbor, he's taking care of the dog." He purposely left out the part where Sean lashed out on him over the phone, claiming he would come and get Samantha, take her home, take care of her. Definitely, Lucas thought, the guy was head over heels for her, and consequently, he was a rival.1

Truth be told, Lucas hadn't really thought things through, he'd just taken her and brought her to his penthouse, calling the doctor on the way, on second thought, upon seeing her faint like that, the most reasonable decision should have been taking her to the hospital, but ... maybe it was foolish instinct, but he'd thought that waking up in a hospital bed would have only alarmed her for no reason.

The doctor later agreed, confirming that the reason she'd passed out was a panic attack, which added one more motive to wanting to take care of her: sense of guilt. It was his fault after all, wasn't it? Lucas was sure of that, he'd pushed her too much, she'd felt cornered. It was his fault.1

"But ..."

"Just let me take care of you for a couple of days, okay?"

"I don't need anything, I ..."

"You can barely stand, Sam."

"It's fine", yet she still kept her forehead against his shoulder, feeling her head too heavy to lift it, and while she knew she couldn't linger, she didn't really oppose resistance as he cuddled her closely, something, her mind was swift to notice, despite dizziness, he'd never done before.

He probably pitied her, a far away voice soon butted in, of course he pitied her, he'd seen her faint like that, now there she was, wounded, in both pride and body, his kind heart could only see her as a stray puppy he ought to help out.

Lucas was always so gentle, so kind, so magnanimous. At this point, she was only another one of his charity cases. He did so much for charity, she was only one more number amongst the people he'd helped.

"Okay, but you're staying", Lucas mentioned, sternly yet gently.

She shook her head against his shoulder. "I can't ..."

"Sam ..."

"I'm fine, really."

"You need rest."

"I can rest at home", she inhaled deeply, feeling weak, "could you please call a cab?"

"You know I won't."

"Lucas ..."

He bit his lip not to smile. Because it was rare – outside of bed, that is –, he did enjoy the sound of his name rolling off her tongue, it was peculiar, especially given her strong Italian accent. Actually, he loved that accent.

She might speak a perfect English, to the point that it was hard to say that she wasn't American, but in some phrases he could still spot her original accent, and he loved it for some reason. Then again, he loved her voice in general, hearing her speak Italian might just be a sexy bonus.

"Don't make me use my stern voice", he joked, succeeding in spilling at least half a chuckle out of her, of which his heart rejoiced maybe too evidently for it to be that good of a sign.

He was putting so much into this, more than he'd ever considered possible when it'd started, yet he couldn't quite find a reason not to. "Come on, Sam, you need to rest, and I happen to be free for the whole weekend, I can be your personal nurse", he continued.

"Lucas ...", she called, barely hiding a tiny smile. It was dangerous, but he was cute with his caring ways.

"I promise I will not pry nor invade your space, I won't ask personal question, and I'll get lost whenever you're tired of my face."

Here Samantha wasn't able to hold back a small giggle, for how unnatural for her that was. It was a new side of him that she'd never quite noticed, this playful one, but she liked it. However, she ought to return to her senses. No matter how pleasant it could be to spend time with him out of bed, it was impossible. She was still fighting that harsh battle, just one weak signal, and she would lose. The price would be her heart.

Hence, Samantha swiftly regained control, and being now slightly stronger, she pulled back, weakly standing on her feet, kind of wobbling, because of how her head restarted spinning the moment it lost its pillow. "I ... really have to go. This is ... it's inappropriate", she inhaled deeply, falling onto the bed, but stubbornly standing up again, cursing her vulnerability. "I ... I can't be here, I ... we're not ... supposed to do this, I ..."

"Sam ..."

"No, it's ...", she tried raising a hand to push him away, but even that tired her out.

"I don't care about appropriateness. You're not in the conditions to remain alone, Sam. You know I can be stubborn, I won't take no for an answer."1

She looked up, surprised to see a quite determined look on his face. He was serious, huh? "Lucas, I'm ... fine. I just need to rest, and ..."3

"Exactly. You can rest here. My bed's comfortable enough, I think, if it isn't I'll get you the softest one around, no worries. I'll get you everything you need. Just say."3

"You're being irrational. I'm fine ... I won't die because of a sprained wrist."

"You knocked your head."

That phrase sounded so familiar, but Samantha tried to ignore the memories as best as she could. She inhaled deeply, truly feeling too weak to do anything but lie in bed. Usually panic attacks were followed by drowsiness, but it didn't take a doctor to know that her exhaustion was also due to having knocked her head for the third time. 2

This one wasn't as harsh, and it might have not caused damage, but it didn't help either. Lucas didn't necessarily need to know, though. Neither did he need to take such trouble. She was a walking disaster, Samantha was well aware of that, there was no need for anyone, especially Lucas, to be involved. It was nice of him, but she could take care of herself. She always had, and she always would.

Hence, she gathered every breath she had, in order not to wheeze, and tried concluding: "You're really kind, Lucas, I ... appreciate you want to help, but really, there's no need. It's just a sprained wrist, my head isn't injured, you said it yourself. I can manage on my own, thank you."

"Sam ..."

She stood once again, weakly, her legs wobbly, and shook her head really slowly. Enough strength to get into a cab and go home was sufficient, then she would just lie on bed and rest, taking advantage of Sean keeping Sky.

Samantha held her head with a hand as she attempted a first step, trying to ignore how her legs quivered at every movement, and the weakness that threatened to have her fall, she stubbornly took enough steps to get to the bottom of the bed, only to then have to sit down again. "Dannazione!", she cursed lowly in Italian, feeling defeated. How she hated weakness, yet always weak she wound up being! 1

Of course she did, why wouldn't she? She was only a waste of life, right? Samantha bit her lips, tears pooling her hazel eyes already. She would have cried, right there and then, hadn't she been in his presence. The last thing she needed was to give him one more reason to pity her, he already did pity her enough, couldn't she save some dignity?

She bit back a yelp when the bed dipped beside her, and she felt an arm gently wrap around her shoulders, tenderly pulling her into his chest. "Lucas ..."1

"Shhh ... just rest. You'll be fine."

"No, I ..."

"Sam ... do it as a favor to me, okay? Let me take care of you. Just for a weekend, trust me."

She closed her eyes, unwillingly lingering inhis embrace. Just one weekend could not be that harmful, right? She just oughtto keep her guard constantly up, without losing a single beat, she would beresting most of the time, so they would have no chance to talk or anything ...no, a whole weekend would sign her sentence. But maybe a few hours? Just enoughto regain her strength?