The Accountant novel Chapter 15

Fuck! Getting shot at was a bummer. And if there was one thing she hated the most, it's being coddled.

Her independent streak was rearing its head. She had sworn to poison Dominic with belladonna if she could her hands on one.

Two whole weeks she had been confined to this bed. The wallpapers had made her dizzy from staring at it all day. She had memorized every pattern she could decipher, even made equations. And answered them in different ways.

And there was one more thing that aggravated her the most. Those fucking pain killers had her knocked out all the damn time!

She and Dominic had barely spoken, other than civilized questions -the usual good morning and good night and how are you phrases- he made it a point to avoid her.

Well, except at night. He retired to their bed beside her only if he was sure she was fast asleep. Which was not always the case.

She could feel his warmth as he cuddled with her gently and his deep even breaths lulled her to sleep.

But the fucker was always gone when she woke up. As if nothing happened and everything was dandy fine. This frustrated her to no end. She wanted to know what's going on. Why was he acting like he has KGB or CIA secrets?

Dominic's sister -bless her beautiful heart- and his mother were the only people keeping her sanity intact. Or she would have ended screaming the roof off in her agitated and bored state.

Her goal today was to get up from their huge bed. Alone. And eat all the berries in the world like there was no tomorrow.

Fuck you, Dominic!

But that's one of the shitty things she forgets all the time.

He doesn't want to fuck her anymore. Damn him! He was treating her like she has the plague or worse like she was a carrier of yellow fever.

She knew she sounded like a whiny bitch and melodramatic but like she gave a damn. She had been confined in bed for almost a month. A few more weeks and she'd be in an asylum.

Oh, she will also need to order Chinese. She was craving some steamy buns.

Beau mentally scoffed. She changed thoughts faster than the speed of light.

Wincing, she gingerly navigated, by slow progress from the bedroom to the carpeted hallway.

The huge house was too quiet. She hasn't had the chance to explore since she had always been confined in her room.

Dr. Lizzie Hope had been a constant companion as well and she grew fond of the shy, demure physician. Can't help not to when the good doctor basically saved her from death's door. They became buddies of sort and she's has helped her today by not drowsing her in pain meds. This was the first time Beau was fully lucid since she woke up.

The only drawback was she can feel every painful twitch of her bullet wound. Fuck! It's near unbearable.

She was gasping for breath by the time she reached the busy spacious kitchen. All activities stopped and the maids gaped at her in shock. Yeah. Surprise.

A handsome lady in her sixty's scurried over to help her on a cushioned leather seat. She flashed her a grateful smile while she gritted her teeth.

"You shouldn't be up on your feet, tzarina." The old lady admonished and clucked her tongue several times. Beau presumed she was the head housekeeper because everyone was looking at the woman for guidance.

"I'm ok. I'm sorry I didn't get your name?" She glanced at Beau while she poured her a glass of water. She took a sip, sighing at the coldness of the drink.

"Call me Mrs. Bell, tzarina." What's with the ridiculous title?

"I am not a Russian Queen, Mrs. Bell." She ignored the housekeeper's surprised expression. "I'm hungry. Do you have fresh berries?" Her taste buds watered imagining its sweet nectar.

"We have some blueberries and strawberries. Do you want it with vanilla ice cream?" The lady asked in a thoughtful expression. Eager to please the young tzarina.

"Umm, I think sour cream would be best," Beau answered.

Mrs. Bell nodded and made her a bowl of creamy delight. She presented the odd combination to her with a gentle smile.

Beau moaned at the delicious treat. Finishing it in under 10 minutes and she asked another one. Still indulging, she remembered the buns. "Can you call for Chinese delivery? I want the hot meaty buns for lunch." She requested.

Mrs. Bell nodded enthusiastically and ordered a maid to do it.

"Do you want me to order different varieties of berries, tzarina?" She asked eagerly. She was way too happy to oblige her.