Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 49968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 167(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 167(@300wpm)
I shut my eyes with a sigh, pain winning out. It was all too much to think about. I would figure it out later.
Aldo took charge, making me realize how powerful he was. In moments, all the equipment was disconnected, discharge papers procured, and before I knew what was happening, Aldo gathered me into his arms and proceeded to walk toward the exit.
“You can’t carry me,” I hissed at him.
“Why?”
“I’m too tall to be carried like a child.”
He laughed. “I think we’re doing just fine. Stop squirming and relax.”
I laid my head against his shoulder. I had to admit, it felt nice being cradled in his arms. I felt safe and cared for—and oddly small held against his broad chest.
I wasn’t used to feeling small.
He held me in the car all the way to his house. I dozed off and on, waking as he stepped from the vehicle. I gazed at the Victorian-style house in awe from the safety of his arms. I was still woozy enough to allow him to carry me inside.
Inside, Aldo set me down, and I looked around in wonder. The rooms were large and filled with sun. Wide planked floors, wood trim, and pocket doors were set off in a soft caramel color. The fireplace was incredible, with beautiful stone and a mantel that gleamed in the light.
I looked at Aldo. “It is amazing.”
He smiled. “Living and dining room. Kitchen and a den. Upstairs, three bedrooms. And my favorite place in the house.”
I walked slowly to the kitchen, marveling at the black cupboards and beautiful counters. The same wooden floors were in every room.
With a smile, he opened a door at the back of the kitchen, and I gasped in delight. “An elevator?”
He chuckled. “The owners installed it when she fell and broke a hip and the stairs were too much. I didn’t take it out. It’s rather fun.”
He took us up to the second floor and waved at the two doors on either side of the hall. “Bedrooms.” Then he led me into the primary bedroom. Spacious, airy, with an incredible view of the Niagara River from the large windows, the room also had a balcony you could sit on and enjoy the view. The whole house was done in simple creams, caramels, and offset by dark wood. A few splashes of color popped up here and there, but for the most part, it was a blank canvas. “Aldo, it is spectacular. Why don’t you spend more time here?”
He shrugged. “I am planning on it over the next few days. You need to get back into bed.”
“Not until I have showered.”
“Vi, you’ve lost the little color you had in your cheeks, and you’re swaying on your feet. Bed. Now.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
I clutched his arm. “I smell him. I want it off. Please.”
He went tense and nodded curtly. He led me to the bathroom, turning on the multiheaded shower and stripping out of his clothes. I frowned at him, and he simply huffed. “You are not getting in there alone. You look as if you’re going to fall over any second.”
I had to admit I felt that way. My head ached and I was weak. I hated feeling so feeble. I allowed him to help me undress, and I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My neck was black and blue, with bruising all around the base. My eyes were red. I turned, gasping at the sight of my back. It was as darkly bruised as my neck, with long scratches from the concrete wall and floor. My arms showed the trauma as well. My knees were scraped and sore. So were my hands. I met Aldo’s eyes in the mirror, the fury in them hot and burning, his fists clenched. He saw my distress and laid his hands on my shoulders, his touch gentle.
“I wish I could kill him all over again,” he muttered.
I shook my head. “I need you right now, Aldo.”
“You have me.”
He ushered me into the shower, blocking the spray and adjusting it so it didn’t hit my back directly. He didn’t let me do a thing, soaping me carefully and washing my hair, taking great care not to touch the area where I had been hurt. His tenderness did something to me, eased my tension, and I found myself crying silently as he continued his ministrations. He tilted up my face, frowning when he realized I was sobbing. He froze. “Am I hurting you, baby?”
“No,” I managed to whisper. “It-it’s just all…” I had no idea how to finish that sentence.
“I understand. Cry as much as you need, but make sure you cry with me. Don’t hide it.”
Those words only made me cry more. He kept tending to me, talking quietly until he was done. He made me sit on the bench in the shower as he washed, handling his own body far rougher than he had mine. When he reached for the shampoo, I picked up the bottle. “Let me. Please.”