Her Prince Charming: An Inspirational Romance (14 page)

I
woke
up with my head on James’s shoulder, his hand stroking my hair. I felt surprisingly good, considering the bruises on my face and the stitches in my wrist. Turning my head, I came eye to eye with James’s phone. He wasn’t just awake; apparently he’d already been busy getting things done.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, meeting my eyes.

“Okay.” I shifted to sit up and leaned into the pillows beside him, laying half on my side so I could see his face. He looked concerned, sweet, and determined. The determined part gave me a shiver. I couldn’t tell if it was aimed at me or someone else. Maybe both.

“I ordered in breakfast. It should be here in a little while. Does your wrist hurt?”

“It’s not too bad.” It wasn’t. It throbbed, but not as much as I would have expected considering I had seven stitches.

James reached towards his bedside table and handed me two brown pills and a glass of water.

“Ibuprofen,” he said. “Take them now before you start to move around too much.”

I did, staring at the light yellow stretchy bandage the doctor had wrapped around the dressing he’d put on my arm. It would look terrible with my dress for the wedding. The bruises on my face would be even worse. At the thought of Christie’s wedding, my stomach sank. The last thing I wanted to deal with was my sister’s wedding.

“What?” James asked, catching my expression.

“The wedding. I feel better, but I don’t feel up to going to Christie’s wedding. And I really don’t want to face questions about this.” I raised my bandaged wrist in the air.

“If you want to skip it, I’m all for it.”

“I can’t,” I said, wishing I could. But my mom would be both furious and disappointed. I could handle the furious part, but I didn’t want to disappoint her.

“I know,” James said. “Don’t worry about the arm. Jessica is sending over elbow length gloves. They’ll be a little too formal, but better than anyone seeing your wrist. And I had Melissa schedule someone to come up to do your hair and makeup this afternoon. They’ll cover the bruises so no one will know anything happened.”

“Did you do all that while I was sleeping?”

“You were out cold. Never even flinched when the phone rang.”

“Oh.” I could be a deep sleeper, but not usually that deep. Must have been the stress of the night before. “Have you talked to Ryan? Did he stop the video?”

“It’s fine.”

“And?”

“And, it’s under control,” he said, that determined look taking precedence in his eyes. I guess it was directed at me after all.

“I need to know more than that. What did he do?”

“Do you trust me?” James asked. I remembered him asking that last night at the hospital. I’d said I did. Now that I was awake, the question seemed to have more depth. At the time I’d been overwhelmed with fear, pain, and relief at seeing James. After a night of sleep, I wasn’t sure I’d give the same answer. Did I trust him?

“I do,” I said. “But I want to know what’s going on.”

“And I’ll tell you. First, I want to talk about trust.”

I stared at him, not sure what to say. I’d said I trusted him. What more did he want?

“Last night,” he went on, “Greg called and threatened you. What did you do?”

“James,” I whispered, wanting to stop him.

“You ran,” he said, ignoring my protest. He’d been so focused on taking care of me, I hadn’t realized he was angry.

“James,” I said again, trying to explain. James was done with explanations.

“You ran away,” he repeated. “Tell me what you should have done, Sara. What should you have done when he texted you?”

“There wasn’t time.”

“Tell me,” he insisted, sliding off of the bed so he could pace out his frustration. “What should you have done when he texted you?”

I looked down at the sheets, avoiding his angry eyes. “I should have woken you up,” I muttered, feeling like a recalcitrant child.

“Yes. You should have woken me up and trusted me to help you.”

His patient, firm tone suddenly struck a nerve. I was an adult, and I’d made the best decision I could at the time. He didn’t have the right to tell me what to do.

“I was trying to help you,” I said, irritated. I didn’t want to go over all this. I wanted to move on.

“I appreciate that, Sara. I do.” He reached out and took my chin in his hand, lifting my face so I was forced to meet his eyes. “It means a lot that you thought about me first. But do you have any idea what went through my head when I realized you were gone?”

“I’m sorry,” I said, finally seeing it from his point of view.

“I was more angry than worried until I saw you get in that cab. You didn’t look like you were mad at me, you looked scared.”

I had been. I’d been terrified.

“Then Ryan called to say they found blood in your house. That you’d been tied up. I love that you’re the kind of woman who thinks of others first, but you need to be more careful. What happened was bad enough, but it could have been so much worse.”

At that I looked up, remembering Greg's hand on my breast, the way he’d held the knife. James must have seen something in my face.

“What did he do to you?” James demanded. I sat up straighter, tired of cowering away. James was angry, but he wouldn’t hurt me.

“Nothing I haven’t already told you about,” I said, meeting his eyes. “I promise. He only touched my breast over my shirt and threatened me. That was all.”

James swore and spun on his heel. “I’m going to kill him,” he said, his eyes fierce.

“James, stop.” I rose to my knees in the bed. “Calm down.”

“No,” he said, turning to point a long finger at me. “My job is to keep you safe. He could have raped you. Killed you. And I wasn’t there to protect you.”

“No, James!” I yelled, trying to break into his rage, “I was trying to protect you. Don’t you understand? I’m okay. This isn’t that big a deal.”

He stopped and looked at me, his eyes suddenly calm. Coming closer, he sat on the edge of the bed and took my hand. His abrupt change in mood unnerved me.

“This is the biggest deal, Sara. He cut you. He drew your blood, scared you, and stole from you. He threatened to rape you. While you were with me. And you didn’t trust me enough to let me keep you safe. You thought you had to risk yourself to protect me.”

“You don’t understand -”

“No, Sara, it’s you who doesn’t understand. We have something here between us. Something important, but you don’t seem to get it.”

“What is it that I don’t understand?” I asked carefully, looking from his intent green eyes to my hand in his. His fingers closed tightly around mine.

“That you’re mine. You belong to me.”

“What?” My voice hit my ears in a shrill tone. What did he mean, I was his? We’d only known each other a few days. And despite any evidence to the contrary, like the shopping trip or James showing up at the hospital, I was still afraid to hope for more.

“You’re mine, Sara,” he repeated. “I know it scares you, but that doesn’t change anything.”

“I’m not scared,” I insisted, lying through my teeth. I was terrified.

“I know you’re scared,” James said, his eyes patient. “Because the other option is that you don’t care for me and I know that isn’t true.”

“Arrogant,” I whispered under my breath.

“Not arrogant, sweetheart. I know you want me. Not because of me, because of you.”

I didn’t speak, only looked up at him. Maybe it was shock, or lack of sleep, but I was having a hard time following the conversation. James went on, with the same patient expression.

“When was the last time you kissed a man you’d just met?”

I stared at him, my mouth open. Not often. And definitely not like I’d kissed James.

“Do you want to tell me why, Sara?”

James brought my hand to his mouth and kissed my fingers. In response to his question, I shook my head. Any answer I could think of would leave me too vulnerable. Because the real answer wasn’t an answer at all. Why had I let James get so close when I’d barely knew him?

Because in some way, I felt like I’d always known him. Like we fit together. He set things off inside me that I’d never experienced with any other man. With him, I felt safe outside my normal comfort zones.

Suddenly, everything he was saying made sense. I trusted him. I had from the very first moment. Right up until Greg had stepped in with his video, and everything fell apart.

“It’s alright,” he said, leaning in to kiss my lips. “I know why. I know why you ran, and I know why you came back. So do you.”

A
pparently James felt
like he’d said what he wanted to say because he got up and went to the door of the cottage looking for our breakfast. I got up to get dressed in something other than a hospital gown and scrubs bottoms. While I found another pair of jeans and a comfortable looking knit shirt, James rolled a wheeled room service cart to the table where we’d eaten the day before.

I took a seat, the smell of coffee and food reminding me I was hungry. James put the covered plates, cups, and coffee on the table, then pushed away the cart. Before I realized what he was up to, he’d picked me up out of my seat, sat down in his own, and arranged me in his lap.

“This is better,” he said into my ear. I squirmed on his lap, feeling weird about sitting there to eat. Wasn’t I too heavy? Putting a voice to my thoughts, I said,

“I’ll crush your legs. I can sit in my own seat.” His arm tightened around my waist.

“No way. You feel perfect, and you can eat right here.”

Picking up a folded newspaper from the cart, he read a note stuck to the front and flipped the paper open to the society section. Right there in full color was a shot of the two of us having breakfast at the Four Seasons the day before, James leaning in and feeding me a bite of his red velvet pancakes. We looked sweet, yet intimate. The headline read, “Drake Romancing His New Flame.”

I quickly skimmed the article. It was exactly what he’d wanted. A few lines about my work, volunteer and professional, a dig about my weight, and speculation that James might be turning over a new leaf. Seeing myself in the paper made me a little uncomfortable. But this was what we’d wanted - for James to be seen in public with me. It didn’t get much more public then the newspaper. And they’d come to the exact conclusion James had wanted them to. Suddenly suspicious I looked at him.

“Did you plant that?”

“Of course not. If I’d planted it, it would have spent at least another paragraph on how beautiful you are.”

“But this is what you wanted,” I said. He shrugged, seeming uncomfortable, and looked away.

“It was. But now I want them to leave us alone. You’ll have to get used to this kind of thing with me, you know that, right?”

“I know. I don’t like it, but being with you is worth it.”

“As long as you think so, I won’t worry about it,” James said, kissing me on the cheek. I tried to get up and move back to my own seat, but his arm tightened around my waist and I realized I wasn’t going anywhere.

Hmmph. I made a rude sound in my throat but gave up on moving when he lifted a bite of omelet to my mouth. Ham, cheddar cheese, and rich, creamy eggs. Yum. The other plate had French toast with home fries. Double yum. I let James feed me for a few minutes, unasked questions simmering in my mind. I was learning that I was more likely to get what I wanted if I let James have his way, at least at first. Besides, I was starving.

The eggs were mostly gone when I finally put up my hand to stop a loaded fork. “I’m full, for now. I want some coffee and I want to talk about the video.”

James put the fork back on the plate and poured me a cup of coffee, adding a splash of cream, exactly the way I liked it. He didn’t say anything until I had the cup to my lips and was taking the first sip.

“Ryan got the video. His guy followed Greg from the Drake Gardens to his place and grabbed him. Ryan and his team went through everything. It’s wiped it from every source.”

“Did Greg send it out?” I asked. I guessed the answer was no since James was so calm. But I’d feel better if I heard it straight out.

“No. He had it backed up on a cloud server, but he left tracks everywhere. Ryan followed his steps personally and verified the video was gone. They took his laptop and his phone and scared him pretty badly.”

“And then?” I asked. I’d only seen Ryan twice, but his foreboding expression at the hospital was enough for me to know I never wanted Ryan to try to scare me.

“Then they let him go,” James said, suddenly not meeting my eyes. He covered by pulling the French toast closer and cutting it into bite sized pieces with the side of his fork.

“They let him go?” I asked, putting down my coffee. “Why didn’t Ryan have him arrested? Because they had to break in and then destroyed evidence?”

James cleared his throat. “Not exactly. I think you should go to the police and press charges later today. But when Ryan found out who Greg owed money, he decided he’d let things play out instead of calling the cops.”

“I don’t understand,” I said. The night before I’d been in shock. Not just physically, but mentally. My only focus had been on stopping Greg from sending out that video. I hadn’t exactly been evaluating the finer points of the situation. Now that I was safe from Greg and the video was erased, my brain was kicking into gear. If I hadn’t had the threat of the video hanging over my head, I would have reported Greg to the police. So why hadn’t Ryan done that as soon as he’d made sure the video wouldn’t go out? James’s answer wasn’t reassuring.

“He hurt you, Sara. He deserves to pay. Ryan saw you in the hospital. We think the same way and he didn’t even have to ask me. When Greg admitted he owed Ilya Fedorov money, Ryan decided to let Fedorov handle the justice part.”

“Who is Ilya Fedorov? What will he do to Greg?” I asked. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer.

“Russian mob,” James said, shortly, still not meeting my eyes. “And I don’t know what Fedorov will do to him. Nothing good.”

“James-” I cut myself off. I wasn’t sure what to say.

“What?” he asked, finally looking at me, his eyes blazing. “The police would throw Greg in jail and maybe he’d do some time. After seeing you getting sewn back together, Ryan assumed I wouldn’t want to wait that long for payback. He was right.”

“But-”

“But what, Sara? Are you trying to protect him?”

“No.” Everything in me revolted at the idea of protecting Greg. “No, I’m not.”

“Then what?” James asked, his eyes searching my face.

“I don’t know,” I said. I didn’t. It’s not like James had sent this Russian guy after Greg. Owing money to the Russian mob was Greg's mistake. Ryan and James just hadn’t gotten him out of it by turning him in to the police.

“It’s wrong, James. This is a job for the police. It’s not for you and Ryan to decide what happens to Greg.”

“Well it’s too late now,” he said stubbornly.

“So Greg's with the mob?” I asked. I had a hard time picturing it. I didn’t know anything about the mob, Russian or otherwise, but I couldn’t imagine Greg, average, normal looking Greg, a prisoner of the mob. “What happened?” James sighed.

“You’re not going to let go of this until you know everything, are you? You can’t just trust that I’ve got it under control?”

“Are you serious?” James raised an eyebrow at me in answer. “I trust you. As far as I can trust anyone I’ve only known a few days, I do trust you. But this is my life. Greg stole from
me
. He attacked
me
. I know you want to make this easy for me, but I need to know what’s going on. I’m never going to be the kind of woman who wants to hand over all her problems for someone else to solve. If that’s what you want -”

“It’s not.” We glared at each other. Then James sighed again. “It’s not. I know I have a habit of wanting to be in control. You’re going to have to deal with that. But I can work on not taking over.”

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll consider it my job to keep you from thinking you can take over the world.”

“No. You can consider it your job to figure out a way to put up with me while I take over the world.”

“I can figure out how to put up with you trying to take over,” I shot back, “Just don’t try to shut me out of my own life.”

“So I shouldn’t tell you what Ryan found out about your new boss?” I stiffened in James’s lap. I’d forgotten about mentioning my boss’s name the first night we’d met.

“Don’t do anything to my boss. I like my job.”

“Even if you’re working for a guy who’s had three sexual harassment suits filed against him in the past five years? All dropped, and the women involved aren’t talking.”

“Why?”

“My guess is money or threats. Maybe both. But I’ve seen this guy’s picture and money seems more likely.”

I couldn’t say I was surprised. My old boss had been great. She’d had high expectations, and she worked my department hard, but she’d been my first real mentor out of college. Her replacement was slimy, way too touchy, and despite that, not threatening enough to get an angry woman to drop a lawsuit.

“What a creep,” I said, reaching for my abandoned coffee cup.

“Do you want me to get him fired?” James asked, casually. I choked on my sip of coffee. Could he do that?

“You can’t just get him fired!”

“Because you think it’s wrong or because you don’t think I could do it?”

“Both,” I sputtered. “Don’t get him fired.”

“So you
do
think I could do it,” he said, grinning at me.

“I don’t want to find out. I can handle this,” I said.

“I don’t like you working for a man like that.”

“Tough,” I said, my mind racing. “He hasn’t actually done anything inappropriate. If he does, I’ll let you know.”

“Will you?” he asked. I sank back against him, relaxing into his hard chest, my half full coffee cradled in one hand.

“I will,” I said. “I promise. I don’t want to be groped at work. If he steps out of line, I’ll tell you. But until then, stay out of it.”

James grunted in response and stabbed a piece of French toast with his fork. I hoped it was for him because I was stuffed. I hadn’t missed that he’d changed the subject earlier. I still wanted to know what had happened to Greg. After fending off the French toast, I said, “So, are you going to tell me what happened to Greg? How did Ryan know the Russian guy caught up with him?”

“You really won’t let this go?”

“Nope.”

“Fine,” James said. “Ryan’s guy sat on the hotel after they dealt with Greg. About an hour after Ryan left, Greg came out, got in your car and drove to an empty parking lot behind a salvage yard. Ryan’s guy watched to see what was going to happen.”

“And?” I asked.

“And two guys who work for Fedorov showed up. Greg tried to give them your car as part of the payment. They beat on him for a while, then took him and your car somewhere.”

“So they have my car?” That sucked. I needed my car.

“Don’t worry about it,” James said. “I’m getting you another one.”

“What?” I would have screeched it, but I was laughing at the same time. James was nuts. Even if this was the beginning of a real, long term relationship, which I still wasn’t sure it was, he couldn’t go around spending all this money on me. Ignoring both my protest and my giggles, he turned his head to kiss my temple.

“That car wasn’t you.”

“It was practical. Efficient. I’m practical and efficient.”

“You make yourself sound boring,” James said. This time, he was the one laughing.

“I am boring.”

“Trust me. You’re not boring. And you might be practical and efficient, but you’re also gorgeous, sweet, clever, fun, and smart. Not a woman who should be driving a beige sedan.”

“You’re insane,” I said.

He didn’t answer. Not in words. Instead, he took the mug of coffee from my hands, set it on the table, and kissed me. I didn’t even try to resist. Since the moment I’d met James, I’d been overwhelmed, confused, and undeniably drawn to him. My analytical brain always wanted an answer for everything, but the rest of me wasn’t worried about the details anymore.

I cared for James. This felt right. Proving that I occasionally had good judgement, James let his lips move over mine, but didn’t deepen our kiss. Just when I was wishing he would, his phone sprang to life on the table beside us, vibrating and ringing at the same time.