25. Chapter Twenty-Five

I find Antonio standing outside the door to the storage closet we keep chemicals and supplies in. There's also a hidden gun closet in there that only three people know about. Me, him, and Rocco. Antonio's eyes are bright red, the outsides swollen. He looks more pissed than I've seen him in a long time. Which concerns me.

"What is going on?" I ask as I reach him. The scent of mint clears my sinuses and my eyes water. "Jesus," I mutter, waving a hand in my face. "What is that fucking smell? And what happened to you?"

He shakes his head, pushing off the wall. He blinks, squinting his eyes. "The girl is fucking nuts, boss." He holds his hands up and shakes his head. "I'm sorry, but it's true."

"What happened?"

"Just as I said. Fine one minute, crazy the next. The kitchen is mostly cleaned already, but quite a few things need to be fixed. Like the oven and some drawers. But the hot tub? You're gonna need a new one." I glance down the hall, not wanting to know how a girl of her size could destroy a hot tub. "I got people in your office cleaning."

"My office?" I grit out. The rage burning through my veins is a new feeling. I rarely get this angry.

He points to his eyes. "This is what I got for stopping her. Now, I'm not complaining, I know it's my job, but that girl?" He shakes his head again, biting his tongue. "You good if I go get this shit checked out?"

"Please, go. Have Mino drive you."

He nods and heads down the stairs, gripping the banister like an eighty-year-old man.

My head is spinning. How could such a small girl wreak so much havoc in a small amount of time? I press my ear to the door, and when I don't hear anything, I assume she's calm. Not that I'm afraid of her, but I'd rather deal with her when she isn't acting like a rabid animal.

I head into my office, and the scent of mint is stronger in here. One of the cleaners is scrubbing the carpet.

"I'm almost finished, Mr. Bramante," she says with a shake of her head, like she too is disappointed.

"What is it?"

"Massage oil, sir. Pain to get out, but I'll get it out. Don't you worry. The smell may linger for a few days, but at least it smells good, aye?" She smiles and goes back to scrubbing the carpet.

Massage oil? She spilled massage oil all over my fucking office. Another look around and I notice the smashes monitor and the fact my desk is empty.

"My desk?" I question through gritted teeth.

"Lotion, sir. Already clean. The papers are drying out on the couch."

I turn and pause. This woman really is an animal.

I go down to the spa. Bernice, along with a maintenance guy, are standing in front of my hot tub that looks like it's been filled with oil.

I shake my head as I stop by them, placing my hands on my hips.

"Sir, he says it can be cleaned and doesn't have to be replaced. The items weren't in it for too long." She gestures to a wastebasket beside her. Inside is a soggy bag of sugar, a plastic tub of chocolate powder and a bottle of soy sauce.

I grit my teeth so hard my jaw aches. "If it's easier to replace, replace it."

I turn on my heel to head back upstairs, but Bernice speaks, causing me to stop.

"Is she worth it?" I close my eyes and take a breath.

Is she worth it? No fucking idea. Probably not. Maybe. If my brothers and I want to keep our family the way it is, then yes. That isn't why I took her in the first place, but it's why I need to keep her now. Besides, how much worse can this get? I suppose that will depend on how my reaction is. Fighting her only seems to fuel her on. Perhaps I should try another angle. She gets pissed when I ignore her. Mad when I force her.

I glance at Bernice over my shoulder. "That is out of line."

Though it is a valid question, there is no way in hell it should come out of her mouth.

Her eyes widen and she ducks her head. "Of course, sir. My apologies."

"Don't let it happen again."

I leave the room, unsure what to think of all this mess. It's clear Jordan is trying to make a point. And the point has been made and taken. Fine. But if she wants to play hard, I can play hard too. Maybe I've been giving her too much freedom. Maybe I'm not taking enough away. A firm hand may be exactly what she's after.

I head upstairs to the closet, enter the six-digit code into the keypad, and pull the door open when it beeps. She's lying on the floor facing me, curled into a ball, in front of the door—sleeping soundly.

I've the urge to dump ice water on her to wake her. Childish, yes, but I think it'll prove a point. If only a small one. I push the door open wider to step in, and I notice she's paler than usual. I crouch down in front of her.

"Jordan." She doesn't move. I repeat her name, and when she doesn't budge, I shake her shoulder, noting she's chilled but clammy. I push her onto her back, causing her body to sprawl out, which is when I notice the large bloodstain on her pants. Right between her legs.

A million thoughts run through my head. The first that someone harmed her, but no. Impossible. Antonio was watching her, and he wouldn't allow that to happen. And he certainly wouldn't do it, not even with how angry he was.

The next thing that makes sense is her period. Miscarriage goes through my head, but it's unlikely. Unless she's been pregnant for a while. But I don't think so. I recall the club checking for that.

There's only one way to know.

I scoop her up and glance over the balcony railing. Rocco is downstairs, staring into the kitchen.

"Call the doc!" I tell him. He nods and I continue on the way to Jordan's room.

I lay her on the bed, not a care in the world for the sheets getting bloody. She doesn't move when I lie her down, but she is at least breathing. I check her pulse. It's slow, but not dangerously slow.

I tear her pants down, spreading her legs, breathing out a sigh of relief when I find a string.

Period. That's relieving.

"You should know better than this," I mutter as I grab the string and pull. It comes out way too easily, courtesy of the wetness, and with it comes a heavy flow of blood. One of the many reasons I'm grateful to have been born with a cock.

Moving into the bathroom, I lose my tie and shrug off my jacket, dropping them to the counter. I turn on the shower, leaving the glass doors open, and kick off my shoes as I move back into the bedroom. I take her shirt off and bring her into the shower with me, sitting in the corner with her in my lap.

The cool water splashes down on us and I brush it over her skin, hoping this is the right thing to do. I'm not a fucking doctor. I don't know what she needs, but she doesn't feel right.

She groans, her head flopping to the side. I run a hand through her hair, anger and concern coursing through me. If she were a man, she'd be dead for what she pulled tonight. Harming one of my men like that? Especially Antonio? That's not something many people would live over.

"Jordan?" I call her name. Her eyes flutter open, mist droplets catching on her long lashes.

She's confused as she stares up at me, her eyes unfocused. She blinks a few times. They widen. Her body tenses, lips parting.

"I have you in the shower," I say softly, running my knuckles down her damp cheek.

She looks around for a few seconds before her gaze settles back on me. "Why?"

The lack of fight speaks volumes.

"I found you passed out in the closet."

She darts her tongue out to run along her lips and brushes a hand through her hair.

"I don't want you touching me," she says, rolling her head away from me. Her body stiffens again, noticing the water running red. "Am I—Did you…" She groans, shoving her hands against my chest to get away from me. "Get out," she says harshly.

I tug her back onto my lap. "I'm not leaving you alone."

"I'm fine, just get out." She scoots her body away from me again, so I let her go. Maybe it isn't punishment she needs at all. Maybe it's kindness. Maybe it's a little control herself. I get to my feet and stare down at her. She keeps her gaze away from me, hugging her body tight. She starts to shiver, so I step under the spray of water to turn up the heat.

"I'm not leaving," I tell her.

"Whatever."