Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 62994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
“I thought you said you were taking me home?” she asks as if snapping out of a daze.
I open her door and lean in. “We’re at my apartment,” I tell her carefully. “I thought you could use a moment to dry off and warm up, but I realize now that might not be what you want.”
She looks at me for a moment before slightly nodding her head.
“It’s okay,” she says quietly, her voice shaking. “That would be nice. I don’t really want to be alone after…”
She trails off and I just nod. She starts to stand on her own, but her legs wobble. I lift her before she can fall. She simply lets out a trembling sigh and presses her face lightly against my shoulder for balance. I catch the scent of her hair. Her soap is floral, mixing with the scent of the rain, making my head fuzzy.
I take her to the private elevator. It rises quietly, her breathing the only sound in the enclosed space. I feel her heartbeat against my chest. Fast at first, then softer. Easier. Being around me seems to have a calming effect on her, which is not something I’m used to.
My presence rarely inspires calmness.
My penthouse is dark except for the glow of the city spilling through the windows. I step inside and the door closes behind us, shutting out the rest of the world. She shivers violently now, still soaked through from the rain.
I set her gently on the sofa, and she curls her arms around herself. The sight of her shaking is something I can’t stand. I need to get her warm as soon as possible.
I take one of the thick blankets from the hall closet and wrap it around her shoulders. She grabs at it with both hands and pulls it tight, looking like it’s the only thing holding her together. Her eyes lift to meet mine. There’s that unbridled, irrational trust again. If she knew who I was, she wouldn’t be looking at me like that.
“We need to warm you up,” I say. My voice comes out quieter than usual.
She nods.
I go to the bathroom attached to the guest suite. I turn on the faucet and adjust the temperature until steam rises. A hot bath should help ease some of the shock. It’ll warm her up, too. While the water is running, I look under the sink to find the special soaps Rosalina keeps stocked for guests, though it’s been a long time since I’ve had one. I also grab soft towels, set them on the counter, and return to her.
“I’ve run you a bath,” I tell her. “It should help.”
She swallows and nods again, then stands slowly with the blanket wrapped tightly around her. She walks toward the doorway I gesture to, keeping her gaze on me for a moment longer than necessary, as if she wants to say something but can’t find the words yet. Then she disappears inside, and the door closes.
The sound of running water continues behind the door, filling the silence of the penthouse. I return to the living room and go to the cabinet where I keep the liquor. I take out two glasses and pour a drink into each. I down mine in one swallow. The burn in my throat grounds me, rooting me back to the present.
I hold the second glass in my hand but don’t drink it. It isn’t for me. It sits on the table until she’s done with her bath. The glass glows amber under the dim lights.
I need to call my men and tell them to sweep the alley. One of the men got away and I never leave loose ends.
For the first time in years, something more important than vengeance or control pulled me toward someone. It’s unsettling how unlike myself I’ve been in the last hour.
I lean back in the armchair, run my hand over my jaw, and stare at the closed bathroom door. I have no idea who she is. I don’t even know her name. But I know one thing with frightening certainty.
I’m never letting her walk home alone again.
4
MOLLY
The bathroom feels like another world. It’s huge, warmly decorated, and softly lit by the glow of the sconces above the mirror. Steam curls around me as I slide into the bubble bath, letting the heat soak into my bones until the shaking in my hands finally begins to slow. My cheek throbs where that man hit me, but the water eases the tightness in my muscles, and the terror caught in my chest begins to dissolve into something looser and gentler.
The attack feels so distant now, yet I feel like I’m living in someone else’s body. This isn’t my bathroom. It’s not my home. I basically accepted the proposition from a stranger. He could be the devil himself, but I’m so intrigued by this man who saved me. He showed up in that alley like my personal guardian angel.