Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 93203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 466(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 466(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
She shouldn’t be thanking me. It was because of me this happened. Once she found out, she wouldn’t be so sweet.
I pulled down the gown and reached for the blanket, but she stopped me. “No. I’m dirty and—”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes. Please. I’ll shower.”
I barked a laugh. “You can barely stand, Little Tiger.”
“Please.”
Once again, I lifted her, carrying her into the en suite. I set her on the bench in the large shower, turning on the water. I aimed the spray at her once it was warm and set the soap and shampoo beside her. “Do not try to stand. Get clean, and I will get you something to wear.”
Aldo was waiting for me in my office. “You can go.”
“And what is going to happen when I do?”
“I’ll get her settled, then check in downstairs. I have to keep waking her every two hours, so I won’t be sleeping much tonight anyway.”
“Playing nursemaid now too.”
“Paying my debt.”
He looked as if he was going to say something but refrained. That was a good choice since my temper was barely under control.
“I’ll check in downstairs and tell them to call with any issues. Try to get some rest, Roman.”
He left, and I picked up the phone, barking some orders into it, then went back and checked on her. She was out of the shower, wrapped in one of the massive towels, standing in front of the vanity, staring at her reflection. There were marks on her shoulders and arms, no doubt from being manhandled. Her hair was a long streak of black down her back, and I saw the tremors that ran through her body.
“The bruises will fade,” I assured her.
She nodded, not speaking. I set a T-shirt and boxers on the vanity beside her, along with a toothbrush. “I’ll get you new clothes tomorrow.”
I paused when she didn’t move. “Do you need help?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered, the sound barely audible.
I drew in a bracing breath, picking up the boxers and standing behind her. “Lift your leg.”
It was a slow, painful process for both of us. By the time I dropped the shirt over her head and pulled the towel away, she was shaking and tears leaked from her eyes. I held her chin in my hand and brushed her teeth. She continued to cry silently, the sight of it fanning my fury.
“Stop,” I hissed, then shook my head, realizing I had said that out loud and now she thought I was angry at her. So then I did become angry at her.
I threw the toothbrush into the sink and bent, lifting her, the sound of her exhaled pain once again hitting me. I carried her to the bed, sliding her under the blankets but leaving her sitting upright. “Are you hungry?”
“N-no,” she stammered out.
“You should eat. I got you some soup. You will eat it.”
I headed to my office, the tray already waiting for me. I returned to my room and slid the tray over her lap. I lifted the lid, the savory aroma of creamy chicken soup wafting up. I handed her the spoon, waiting.
She tried. Goddammit all to hell, she tried. She clutched the spoon, dipping it into the soup, but her hand trembled so hard she couldn’t lift it. She tried again, taking only a small amount on the spoon, barely enough to taste, but I could see even that wasn’t going to happen. “Stop,” I said again.
She looked at me, the fear, pain, and exhaustion so blatant, I swore I felt them. I took the spoon from her hand, dipped it into the soup and lifted it to her lips. “Eat.”
She let me feed her the mouthful. “Good girl,” I murmured. “You need this, Effie. Your body needs this.”
I got about half the bowl into her before she laid her head back, shaking it when I tried to feed her more. She hadn’t spoken a word, but her tears had stopped, which was a good thing. I couldn’t handle them. I had never seen my nonna cry—not once—and I wasn’t used to that emotion. I had experienced it on occasion with women I dated—usually when I was breaking up with them—and their waterworks didn’t bother me as a rule, but Effie’s tears did.
I was starving, so I finished off the soup, ate the sandwich, and drank the milk. That made me grimace. I disliked milk.
Effie sipped the ginger ale I offered to her, and I slipped two pills into her mouth. “To help your pain,” I said to her silent question.
I carried the tray back to my office and returned. “You are safe. Nothing will harm you, and no one is going to get close to you again. Sleep, and we’ll talk in the morning.”
I reached for the light, and she whimpered in distress. I went to the opposite corner and snapped on a light, then turned off the one beside her. “All right?”