Billionaire's Escort - Page 68

“I knew you’d love it here.”

“I’m just glad you’re here,” she said.

“Of course, I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I just thought that since I wasn’t with Tony, you might not want to do business.”

“Mercedes, I want to see you no matter what.”

Her cheeks went bright red, and she held her head down. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to worry, you know.”

“About what?” She took a sip of water, then looked up at me. I met her gaze.

“I can pay for your father’s treatments,” I said. “It’s no problem.”

“No,” she said firmly.

“I know a hospital in Monaco. They have best the oncologists in the world. They can do a lot more than a local hospital.”

“No,” she said again.

“Mercedes, you don’t have a choice.”

“I mean it. I won’t let you pay for my father’s treatments.”

“I’ll book an appointment this week. He might not have to go through anymore chemo.”

“Jake, I like what you want to do. I love it, but I’m not a charity case. I’m an independent woman. I can’t have you spending thousands of dollars on me every week.”

“It’s not charity,” I said. “This is your father’s life we’re talking about.”

“It’s too much,” she said.

“Not for me.”

“Jake, it just doesn’t feel right.”

I nodded. “Fine, just think about it. I’ll let it drop for now.”

I helped her up out of the booth so we could leave. I wasn’t going to give up. If there was a chance that I could get her father into a decent facility, I was going to make it happen. Public hospitals were cesspools of corruption and crime. They worked the

staff ragged and treated the patients like crap. He needed personal care, one doctor with one patient. I could save his life.

Chapter 26

Mercedes

I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. I felt like I was moving between realities. In one, I was wearing a $10,000 gown, sitting with a billionaire in his bright red sports car. In the other, I was sitting at home watching my father die.

It was taxing, moving between these two worlds. It took a lot of effort to walk in the door when Jake dropped me off. My father was laying on the couch, snoring, and my mom was working late. He’d gotten so small that we could carry him when he needed it. I picked him up to carry him into the bedroom.

Normally, he would’ve woken up and shouted. Now he just rolled over and grunted. When I sat him down, I pulled his breathing mask off the bedside table and sat down next to him so I could slide his heart monitor on his finger.

I leaned across the bed to turn it on, and I felt a sob roll through me. No, I couldn’t do that. There was no point. I’d just end up going to bed crying like so many nights before. I wasn’t going to do it anymore. I’d mourned the prospect of his death already.

I turned on the machine and stood up to walk out. I wanted to say to myself that everything would be okay, but it wouldn’t, not if he died. I knew exactly what would happen. My mother would be leaning over the kitchen table with her head down sobbing. She’d lose her mind if I didn’t stay by her side. We’d have mother and daughter dinners and sit on the couch together every night watching movies. But it would be empty.

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