Lustfully Yours, Uncle

"Isabel Vergara, are you sure you're okay?"

Carl, her best friend, asked with a worried frown as he studied her face, but Izzy only forced a smile and nodded.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?" Izzy answered with a grin.

"Izzy, have you even looked in a mirror lately? You look like a corpse. You're so pale."

His dramatic expression made her laugh, easing some of the tension that had been weighing on her.

"Wow. A corpse? That's a little harsh. I'm fine, I promise. And thanks for the free coffee. That's why you're my favorite best friend."

She flashed him a teasing grin, earning an eye roll from Carl as he pushed a plate of muffins toward her.

"You're such a freeloader. It's not like you have another best friend. I'm the only one willing to put up with you."

Izzy pouted at him but happily took one of the muffins.

It was just after three in the afternoon, and they were sitting in the break room of the coffee shop where Izzy worked. Luckily, Carl had arrived right as her break started.

"Why are you so grumpy today? Are you on your period?"

"Shut up, Izzy. I'm a grown man, and you're seriously asking me that?"

He shook his head, clearly exasperated.

"And I'm not grumpy. Anyone would be worried if they saw you looking like this."

"Ouch. Coming from you, that makes me sound like the ugliest woman alive."

She smirked.

"I'm not saying you're ugly. I'm saying you look like you've lost half the blood in your body. Do you ever sleep? You're working two jobs and going to college. You're only twenty-two, but you look like you're thirty and already raising three kids."

Carl's lecture wiped the smile from her face.

"I have to work, and I do sleep." She paused, pretending to think before adding with a grin, "Sometimes."

"That's not reassuring."

He sighed.

"Anyway, do you know of any places that are hiring? Maybe I could work somewhere with you."

Carl's eyebrows shot up. "Why?"

"You have a car. If we worked together, I could ride with you and save money on gas." She shrugged.

She wasn't embarrassed to ask. Carl had been her best friend for nearly seven years. He was used to her asking for favors, and she was used to depending on him when she had no other choice.

They had grown up in completely different worlds. Carl came from a wealthy family, while Izzy had spent most of her childhood struggling to make ends meet.

"Izzy, you already have two jobs. You work here, then you go straight to your night shift until two in the morning. Your classes start at six. Are you trying to kill yourself?"

His voice softened, but the concern in his eyes was impossible to miss.

"Carl, I know it's exhausting. I'm the one doing it. But you know how much I need the money. If I could survive without sleeping at all, I probably would."

She gave him a tired smile.

Carl shook his head.

"I know. Your mother needs expensive treatment, and I know you're doing everything you can for her. But you can't keep pushing yourself like this. One day you're going to collapse."

Izzy's smile faded.

Her mother had cancer.

Every shift she worked, every dollar she earned, and every hour of sleep she sacrificed was for one reason: to keep her mother alive.

She took a slow breath.

"I can handle it, Carl. It's exhausting, but as long as there's something I can do for Mom, I'm going to keep doing it."

Her voice became firm.

"I'll do anything if it means giving her a little more time."

Carl didn't answer.

He simply looked at her, knowing there was nothing he could say to change her mind.

"Izzy."

A coworker's voice pulled her attention away.

"Mr. Peterson wants to see you in his office."

Izzy immediately stopped wiping down the tables.

Her stomach tightened.

"Why? Am I getting fired?"

The question slipped out before she could stop herself.

Losing this job wasn't an option. Neither of her part-time jobs paid enough to cover her mother's medical expenses, and she couldn't afford to lose even one of them.

"Relax. He probably just needs to talk to you about something. Don't panic."

Her coworker smiled.

"Go. He's waiting."

Izzy nodded and headed toward the manager's office.

She stopped outside the door, her nerves worsening with every second as she wondered whether she had made a mistake, forgotten something, or done something wrong, but she couldn't think of anything, so after taking a deep breath, she knocked.

"Come in."

She turned the handle and stepped inside.

"You wanted to see me, sir? Is something wrong?"

Her manager, a middle-aged man named Peter Peterson, smiled.

"No, nothing like that. You have a phone call. They called the office directly, so I figured it must be important."

Relief washed over her as he handed her the phone.

"I already picked up. They asked to speak with you."

Izzy took it with trembling fingers.

"Hello?"

"Isabel? Is that you?"

Her heart stopped. She recognized the voice immediately.

"Uncle Oscar?"

She tightened her grip on the phone.

"What's wrong? How's Mom?"

"That's why I'm calling. We had to rush your mother to the hospital."

Izzy's face went pale.

"What hospital?"

She was already moving toward the door, her steps quickening as worry tightened in her chest.

"Tell me where she is. I'm on my way."

Her uncle gave her the hospital's name, and after thanking her manager, Izzy hurried outside and rushed toward the parking lot, barely paying attention to where she was going as she desperately searched for a ride.

She stepped off the curb without looking, and before she could react to the sudden blare of a horn behind her, a sleek black luxury car came toward her and its bumper clipped her hip.

"Ow!"

Izzy stumbled and fell onto the pavement, and before she could even process what had happened, the driver's door flew open and a man stepped out.

"What the hell? Are you okay?"

His initial anger disappeared when he saw her on the ground.

"Why were you walking into the street without looking?"

Izzy winced as she tried to push herself up.

"I'm sorry. I was in a hurry. I wasn't paying attention."

The man was probably in his early thirties. He wore a perfectly tailored black suit, and everything about him screamed wealth.

His sharp features and cold expression should have made him intimidating.

Instead, Izzy found herself noticing how ridiculously handsome he was.

"I'm fine."

She tried to stand, but pain shot through her side, making her gasp.

The man's expression immediately changed.

"You're not fine."

Before she could protest, he bent down and carefully lifted her into his arms.

"Wait..."

"I'm taking you to the hospital."

"No, it's okay. I just need a ride." She swallowed against the pain. "I'm already late. My mother was taken to the hospital, and I need to get there."

The man stared at her for a moment. "Which hospital?"

She quickly gave him the name.

He nodded.

"Fine."

He carried her to the passenger side, opened the door, and helped her inside before walking around to the driver's seat.

The moment he started the engine, Izzy leaned back and closed her eyes.

"I'm sorry."

He glanced at her.

"For what?"

"For causing all this trouble."

"You didn't cause it. I hit you."

His jaw tightened.

"My name is Seth Santiago. I'm sorry. I was in a hurry too, and I shouldn't have been driving so distracted."

He looked at her briefly before returning his attention to the road.

"I should have checked whether you were seriously hurt."

"I'm okay."

"You said that while you're holding your side like you're about to pass out."

Izzy lowered her hand.

"I really don't need a doctor. I just need to see my mom."

He studied her through the rearview mirror.

"What's your name?"

"Izzy Vergara."

The moment she said it, Seth’s expression changed as his hands tightened around the steering wheel, and after a brief glance at her, he quickly looked away, leaving Izzy frowning in confusion.

"Do you know me?"

"No." His answer came too quickly.

"Then why did you look at me like that?"

"You must be mistaken."

"I don't think I am."

Seth remained silent, and after watching him for another moment, Izzy turned toward the window as her side throbbed again, making her wince quietly.

A few minutes later, they reached the hospital, and when Izzy immediately reached for the door handle, it refused to open, making her turn toward Seth in confusion.

"You have a patient here?"

Izzy nodded.

"My mother."

Seth unlocked the doors.

Before she could get out, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a small card.

"Take this."

Izzy stared at it.

"What's this?"

"My contact information."

She looked up.

Seth's expression had become unreadable.

"Since you refused medical treatment, call me if the pain gets worse. Or if you need anything."

Izzy blinked.

"Why would I need anything?"

He didn't answer immediately, instead looking at her with an intense gaze that made her shift uncomfortably in her seat before finally speaking.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Izzy Vergara."

Her heart skipped.

"Finally? What do you mean?"

But Seth had already looked away and opened the passenger door for her.

"See you around."