I closed my eyes, and instead of seeing darkness, I saw the stiletto blade he held in his hand after he stabbed me. My eyes flew open as a twinge of pain throbbed where my wound was.
“Are you all right, Aurora?”
“I’m fine,” I said as I looked away.
“Is there something you want to tell me?”
“No. What would I possibly tell you?”
Ian sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at me. “You never told me your last name.” He smiled as he held out his hand with the large red pill in it.
I lifted my hand and, when I went to take it from him, he closed his hand on mine. “You have no reason to be afraid of me, Aurora. I can keep you safe, but you need to trust me.”
I nodded my head and he smiled softly as he opened his hand and I took the pill from it. He handed me a glass of water as I put the pill in my mouth and swallowed it.
“Sinclair. My last name is Sinclair,” I said. “And my name is Rory. I hate Aurora, so please call me Rory.”
The corners of his mouth slightly curved up when I said that. “You must be starving. I’ll have my chef prepare something for you. What kinds of food do you like?”
“I’m not hungry,” I said in a low tone as I looked out the window.
“It doesn’t matter if you’re hungry or not. You have to eat.”
He was starting to piss me off, and I just wanted to be left alone. “Can you please just leave me alone?” I said with an irritation in my voice.
“Fine. I’ll leave you alone, at least for now. But, make no mistake, Aurora, this is far from finished.”
He got up from the bed and walked out the door. What the hell was this guy’s problem? He seemed like some kind of control freak. He would be easy to resist if he wasn’t so damn sexy. Ugh…Rory, get the thought out of your head, I said to myself. A guy like that would never be interested in someone like me. About an hour later, a man wearing a white shirt, black pants, and a chef’s hat on his head brought me a tray with a bowl of soup and a plate of bread on it.
“For you, Miss Rory. I’ve prepared homemade chicken noodle soup and homemade bread for you. Everything you need is here on the tray,” he said as he set it across my lap.
The aroma of chicken soup filled the air. “Thank you. It smells delicious.”
“You’re welcome. If there’s anything else I can get you, please just push this button and it will ring down to the kitchen.” He smiled.
“Thank you. What’s your name?”
“My name is Charles, ma’am,” he said as he walked out the door.
As the steam was rising up from the soup, I took my spoon and stirred it around the bowl. I despised chicken soup and for good reason. But, I was hungry, and because I didn’t specify what I liked to eat, Charles probably figured that chicken soup was the safest bet. I brought the spoon up to my mouth and lightly blew on it to cool the soup off. It wasn’t bad. I’m sure it was phenomenal, but since my hatred for chicken soup was so strong, I couldn’t get past that it was just okay. Being in this place scared me. He scared me. He said I could trust him, but I didn’t trust anyone.
Chapter 2
I desperately needed a shower. I looked across the room and at the closed door that was the bathroom. I carefully swung my legs to the side of the bed, and I slowly stepped one foot on the floor. I held my side where the wound was as I pushed myself up from the bed. I stood there for a moment and let the dizziness pass. As I slowly inched my way to the bathroom, I stopped in front of the full-length mirror that stood in the corner. My long brown hair was knotted and greasy-looking. My brown eyes were sunken in and it looked like I hadn’t slept in days. My fair skin had a gray cast to it, and I just looked like total shit. I had no idea where the nightgown had come from that I was wearing, but it was pretty. A pretty satin and pink lace gown that stopped at my ankles was the only thing from keeping me looking like a homeless person. I silently laughed because I was a homeless person. Walking into the huge bathroom, that was bigger than the house I used to live in, I took down the straps of my gown and let it fall to the floor. I carefully removed the white bandage that covered the results of that horrible night. I felt sick to my stomach as I looked at the wound that would forever scar my right side. The dizziness started again, so I sat down on the toilet, waiting for it to pass. Was I even going to be able to take a shower? As I slowly removed myself from the toilet, I reached inside the shower, turned on the water, and stepped inside. I ran my hand along the beige marble walls as I looked through the triple glass doors that, if anyone walked in, they would be able to see me completely naked. In the corner were built-in shelves that held shower gels, shampoos, conditioners, razors, loofah sponges, and a sea salt body scrub. As I struggled to wash my hair, I heard a voice through the door.
“How on earth are you managing to take a shower? I know you can’t wash your hair. I’m sure the pain is too much when you lift your arms.”
He was right. The pain was too much when I tried to lift my arm. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not, and you shouldn’t be in there alone. What if you fell or passed out or something?”
“I’m fine.”
“Aurora, no, you’re not! Now, I’m coming in to help you.”
“Over my dead body, you are, Ian. Don’t you dare open that door!” I yelled.
“Wrap one of the large towels around your body, then. At least let me shampoo your hair.”
“Get one of your maids.”
“They’re gone for the night.”
I took in a deep breath, and since I needed my hair washed, I was left with very little choice but to let him in and help me. I opened the shower door and stuck out my hand, grabbing the large towel from the rack. I wrapped it around my body, flinching in pain as the towel pressed against my wound.
“Okay, I’m covered. You can come in now.”
He opened the door and looked at me as he started unbuttoning his shirt.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking off my shirt so it doesn’t get wet.”
As he unbuttoned the last button, he slid his shirt off his shoulders and set it on the counter. I stood there staring at him. Staring at the ripped, muscular man before me. His taut torso was perfection. Every ripped muscle was well characterized, as was the hint of his V-shape, which was slightly visible as his pants sat low on his hips. My eyes then diverted to his muscular arms, which were perfectly defined and strong. I remembered that much when he had carried me up the stairs that night.