She Missed Work Without A Word—The Mafia Boss Found Her Broken On The Floor At Home

The storm had passed by six the next morning, leaving the North Shore estate bathed in a pale, fragile autumn light.

Isa woke up slowly, her mind fighting through the fog of Dr. Vance's sedatives.

She was lying in a massive, four-poster bed draped in dark gray Egyptian cotton. The room was vast, dominated by a floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace where a low fire crackled softly. High arched windows offered a view of Lake Michigan, its dark blue water calm beneath the morning mist.

She moved slightly and winced as a sharp spike of pain shot through her left ribcage.

"Don't move quickly," a deep voice said from the shadows near the window.

Isa turned her head carefully.

Rhett was sitting in a high-backed leather armchair near the fire. He was still wearing his dark trousers and a crisp white shirt, though his tie was loosened and his jacket was draped over the back of the chair. A crystal glass of untouched water sat on the table beside him.

He looked as though he hadn't slept a single minute.

"Where am I?" she asked, her voice raspy, though the pain in her throat was considerably less intense than it had been the day before.

"My estate," Rhett said, standing up and walking over to the side of the bed. "Dr. Vance bandaged your ribs and administered a mild narcotic. You've been asleep for fourteen hours."

Isa looked around the luxurious room, then down at herself. Someone had changed her out of her torn, coffee-stained work clothes and into a soft, oversized silk pajama set.

Her face flushed warm despite her injuries. "Who..."

"A female nurse," Rhett answered smoothly, reading her mind before she could finish the sentence. "I don't cross boundaries, Isa. Not with you."

She looked up into his gray eyes. They were completely unreadable, as they always were in the boardroom, but there was an intensity beneath them that sent a subtle shiver down her spine.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"7:30 AM."

Isa gasped softly, attempting to sit up despite the blinding pain in her side. "I'm late. The morning reports for the logistics division—"

Rhett reached out, his large, warm hand landing gently on her shoulder, pressing her firmly back down onto the pillows.

"You aren't going to the office today," Rhett commanded softly. "Or tomorrow. Or the rest of this week."

"Rhett, I can work," she protested, her single functional eye narrowing. "I can work from a laptop here. I don't need to be babied."

"You have two cracked ribs and a split lip, Isa," Rhett said, his thumb brushing ever so slightly against the edge of her blanket. "You aren't working. That is an executive order."

Isa stared at him, frustrated by her own physical weakness. "You can't just order my life around because I work for you."

"I can," Rhett said flatly. "Because right now, your only job is to heal."

A knock sounded at the heavy double doors. Marcus stepped inside, carrying a small silver tray holding a cup of coffee and a fresh, folded copy of the Wall Street Journal.

Marcus set the tray on the nightstand beside Isa, offering her a respectful, quiet nod. "Good morning, Miss Voss. It is good to see you awake."

"Thank you, Marcus," she murmured.

Marcus turned to Rhett, his expression shifting into his professional mask. "The matter from last night has been finalized, sir. Mr. Cain's father called the office ten minutes ago in a panic. The financial board has suspended Tyler Cain indefinitely, and he is currently in surgery at Northwestern."

Isa's breath caught in her throat. She looked from Marcus to Rhett, her eyes wide with shock.