Beneath Her Bastard Boss

Chapter 143

Chapter 143

One week later, Sutton was losing her damn mind.

“How are you doing today, Miss Warner?” the nurse chirped as she passed by.

“Still trapped in this hospital, no offense,” Sutton muttered with a smile that was at least 20% sincere. “But thank you for asking. Do we know when the doctor is likely to release me?”

The nurse chuckled. “Bedrest’s been lifted. That counts as parole. The doctor should be around at 11am or so.”

“No,” Sutton called after her softly. “Parole at least means you get to go home.” 11am or so could mean more like 1 or 2pm. One thing Sutton had found out since being here, doctors had their own timetable.

In truth, things were improving.

Her pain had eased, the bruising was fading, and though her energy wasn’t all there yet… she could stand. Walk without help. Use the bathroom without help, praising whatever gods saw fit to deliver small mercies. They hadn’t needed to take her stitches out because the doctor had used dissolvable ones that take from three to six weeks to disappear completely. Sutton had been surprised at how small the cut had been along her bikini line. Not that she cared… because that cut was the reason her son was alive.

The great thing about being more mobile, she’d been allowed to spend more time with Miles.

Holding and feeding him or, more accurately, kangaroo cuddling while skilled NICU nurses handled the feeding part. But still. She’d felt his breath warm against her chest. Seen those tiny fingers curl around hers with quiet, confident strength. He was doing so well. Which helped her feel better.

Luca had been with her almost every day. Every slow walk to and from the NICU. Every pumped bottle. Every late–night check–in with the nurses. But this morning, he’d had a meeting he couldn’t get out of–a massive product presentation to Cyber10’s top clients.

To showcase Sutton’s virus protection program. Her fingerprints were in every line of that code.

He’d asked if she’d wanted to join remotely. She’d said no. She was happy to let him handle it. It’s what he did so well. It was more his world, anyway. She preferred being under the radar. Coding behind the scenes.

After an hour with Miles, her legs were stiff and her back tight, but she wasn’t ready to crawl back into another white–sheeted bed. So once she got back to her ward, she walked.

real walk in a week. Slow. Careful. But upright. With one hand on the cool railing that ran along the ward’s long hallway, the other resting on the side of her belly, now soft where it once held her son, that absence

the elevators, then into the wide corridor that overlooked the

with something on the floor near the bench closest to the

cane had fallen. He was trying to lower himself without tipping over; the

Sutton didn’t hesitate.

crossing to him without even thinking.

up, startled, Thick silver hair, well–kept. Italian maybe, by the slope of his

n. His expression was

he grunted, clearly

no longer defying gravity,” Sutton replied, squatting carefully because of her own aches and picking up the cane. “Ease down, not forward.

a gruff

the bench

followed her instructions, settling onto the bench with a long exhale. Sutton

He was

said. Slight accent.

to her he was indeed

cautiously beside him with a hand on her lower back. “You’re welcome. And since I just

my own tailbone for you, I think we

The man blinked. “Nick.”

Nick. It’s lovely

a second, his eyes flickered. There was a glint of hesitation, but then he said, “Heart

Sutton winced. “Yikes.”

much salt, not enough walking. Plus, Twas a smoker. The

ago was

“About seven days.”

has your bed rest

a noisy little thing, aren’t