Chapter 5 - Ten Steps
Massimo took his first independent step on December 12.
It was ugly.
Unsteady.
Painfully slow.
It was also the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen professionally.
“Don't touch me,” he warned.
“I'm not touching you.”
“You're hovering.”
“That's my job.”
He released the parallel bar.
His right foot moved forward.
Then his left.
His knee trembled.
“Massimo.”
“I've got it.”
Another step.
Then another.
Four.
Five.
At six, he stopped.
“I can't.”
“Yes, you can.”
“My legs are done.”
“Your legs don't make decisions.”
He looked at me.
“That's medically questionable.”
“Seven.”
He moved.
“Eight.”
Another.
“Nine.”
His entire body shook.
“Tessa.”
“One more.”
He looked straight at me.
Then stepped.
Ten.
The room erupted.
Luca actually applauded.
Two guards cheered.
Massimo ignored all of them.
He looked only at me.
“You said ten.”
“I did.”
He took an eleventh.
I laughed.
“Show-off.”
He smiled.
Then his knees gave out.
I caught him.
We landed together against the padded mat.
Massimo was laughing.
Actually laughing.
I started laughing too.
Then we realized how close we were.
His hand was around my waist.
Mine was against his chest.
His laughter faded.
“Tessa.”
“We shouldn't.”
“I know.”
Neither of us moved.
“I'm your therapist.”
“For eleven more days.”
“That doesn't help.”
His eyes stayed on mine.
“Then I'll wait eleven days.”
I stood quickly.
“Massimo.”
“I said I'll wait.”
“For what?”
His expression softened.
“For you to stop pretending.”
The remaining eleven days passed too quickly.
Massimo progressed from parallel bars to a walker.
Then short distances with a cane.
The wheelchair remained necessary, but no longer permanent.
On the final morning of my contract, I packed my medical equipment.
Massimo watched from the doorway, standing with his cane.
“You're leaving.”
“That was the agreement.”
“Your tuition?”
“Paid.”
“Good.”
I closed the bag.
Neither of us spoke.
Finally he said, “I have another offer.”
“No.”
“You haven't heard it.”
“That's how Camila trapped me the first time.”
“Seventy-five thousand.”
I laughed.
“For what?”
“Stay.”
My smile disappeared.
“As your therapist?”
“No.”
The room became very quiet.
“Massimo…”
“I don't know how to do this.”
“Do what?”
“Ask someone not to leave.”
There was no command in his voice.
No threat.
No power.
Just vulnerability.
I walked toward him.
“I have a life.”
“I know.”
“A doctorate to finish.”
“I know.”
“A career.”
“I know.”
“I won't become something you keep inside this estate.”
His jaw tightened.
“I would never ask you to.”
“And whatever your family does—”
“Is not your responsibility.”
I searched his face.
“What exactly are you asking?”
Massimo looked almost nervous.
“Dinner.”
I blinked.
“Dinner?”
“Tomorrow.”
“You offered me seventy-five thousand dollars for dinner?”
“I panicked.”
I burst out laughing.
Massimo frowned.
“This is humiliating.”
“Good.”
“Tessa.”
“Yes.”
He stared at me.
“Yes what?”
“Dinner.”
His entire expression changed.
“Seven?”
“Seven thirty.”
“Seven.”
“Seven thirty.”
He smiled.
May you like
“Deal.”
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