“Julian…” My name falls off her lips in a breath, soft and quiet, but it hits me like a fifty-pound weight.
“Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay,” I assure her and watch her eyes flutter shut once more.
Her movement made the towel move off her body, and I remember she is still wearing her now soaking wet panties. I pull them off her legs, trying not to look at the valley between her thighs. I don’t care how sick she is, she is still beautiful, and I’ll never stop wanting her.
Careful not to rip out the IV, I move Elena into the center of the bed, take off my shoes and slide into the spot next to her.
She turns toward me, wiggling her body as she is trying to get closer.
I slide my arm under her body and gently lift her up to lie on top of me. With her cheek flat on my chest, her breath fans out over my skin. Her breathing is still a bit rough, but it’s starting to calm down, color returning to her cheeks, and I know she is going to be okay.
Absentmindedly, I run a hand up and down her naked body, enjoying the tiny shivers I draw out of her every time I hit a certain spot on her ribs. For a while, I let her body distract me, let her beauty and sweetness draw me in. I listen to her breathe and watch her sleep, but all too soon, even that can’t keep me from thinking about my next move.
I need to find who did this. Who dared try to take her from me. I need to find the person responsible, so I can remind everyone why you never mess with something that’s mine.
15
Elena
My brain feels as if it’s been run through a blender. Scratch that, I feel like my whole body has been run through a blender. I don’t know what is up or down. All I know is every time I lift my head, the entire room spins. Trying to sort through my memories of the last twenty-four hours, I’m not sure what is real or made up.
What is wrong with me?
I remember Julian holding me in his arms, throwing up on him, him giving me a bath, and the doctor coming. Not all of that had been a dream, had it? Julian holding me against his chest seems like it would be a made-up thought, but I can still feel his arms wrapped around me, holding me securely against his chest. The whole bath thing was probably a dream too.
Blinking my eyes open, I slowly focus on the nightstand, the lamp, the mattress before letting my gaze move around the room at an even slower rate. My stomach is still knotted, and bile rises up my throat, threatening to come out.
My arm throbs like it’s been poked, and I peer down at it with one eye open. There is some light bruising, and at that moment, I can’t really put the pieces together in my mind.
“You’re awake.” Marie beams from her spot at the edge of the bed.
How long has she been sitting here? Where is Julian?
“I feel dead.” My voice is raspy, and my throat is raw. Reaching for the water bottle I spot on the nightstand, my hand misses, and I reach for it again and miss that time too. “What’s wrong with me?” I ask out loud.
Marie moves off the edge of the bed, grabbing the water bottle and handing it to me, “Mr. Moretti said you are sick and told me to stay with you until he returned. Are you feeling better? Are you going to puke again?”
“Not really, and I don’t think so. My brain feels like it’s been fried.”
Marie frowns at my response as I twist off the cap and take a small sip of water. I want to drink the entire bottle, but I just know it’ll come right back up if I do that. Putting the cap back on, I sag against the pillows. My skin feels hot and clammy.
“Where is Julian?” I ask, wincing at the sound of my own voice.
“I don’t know, but he said he would be back soon.”
I nod, or at least I think I do. I can’t be sure.
For the next two hours, Marie stays with me while I float in and out of consciousness. My brain refuses to shut down completely, and yet having my eyes open does me more harm than good. What could be wrong with me? Surely, this isn’t the flu. I’ve had that a time or two in my life, and it’s never felt like this.
This is different. Like my body is trying to purge something inside of it.
I recall the doctor taking my blood, and telling Julian there was nothing that could be done until tests were run. Or maybe I had misheard that? I didn’t know what was real or not? Sometime later, I awake again, feeling only a little better.
When I open my eyes, my head is pounding, but I don’t seem as disoriented or like I’m riding a never-ending rollercoaster. Sitting up, I press a hand to my forehead.
“Welcome back,” Julian’s deep voice greets me, and I find him perched at the edge of the bed, his features hidden in the shadows. He’s sitting in the same spot Marie had sat earlier. Marie. Immediately, concern for the maid fills my veins.
“Where is Marie?” I croak.
Julian smiles, one side of his lip tipping up. He looks every bit the predator he wants people to see him as. “Probably sleeping since it’s well after ten.”
“Oh… okay.”
“It’s surprising that you wonder about her when you were the one lying in bed, half-dead to the world all day.”
“All my thoughts feel jumbled. What’s wrong with me?”
Julian looks at me, his gaze hardening. “Don’t know yet, but you seem to be doing better, that is, after IV fluids and some meds. The doc is going to call and let me know when your blood test results come back. Though we’re fairly sure someone tried to poison you.”
“Poison! Why would someone want to poison me?” I never hurt a fly in my life. I can’t possibly wrap my head around that.
“That’s what I’m going to figure out. My cook, who has been with the family for years, was also poisoned. We found her body in the kitchen yesterday morning. She had been eating the leftover breakfast. Specifically, your leftover breakfast.”
Horror strikes me like a lightning bolt. Someone tried to kill me… and it obviously wasn’t the cook since she’s dead too. This new information is unsettling and leaves me feeling thankful for skipping out on breakfast that morning. If I had eaten more, I’d probably be dead.
I’m not sure how to feel about that.
Staring at Julian, my thoughts shift… I can’t help but see how different he is today than he was the other night. Has me being poisoned changed something in him? Made him more human or maybe made him see how easily I could’ve been taken from him? I think back to my delirious state, the tossing and turning, and vomiting, the cramps in my stomach. He was there. I remember seeing him, and I’m certain he held me in his arms and told me everything was going to be okay, but maybe he didn’t. Maybe I completely made up his kindness. It’s not that far-fetched, seeking out comfort when you feel like you’re dying.
Still, I have to know if it was real.
“I might’ve hallucinated it, but I swear you took care of me when I was sick. You held me in your arms… did you?”
Julian turns toward me, his face void of any emotion, and still, something slowly brews in his icy glare. “I hold you in my arms every night when we go to sleep.”
“Yeah, but this was different…” More intimate somehow. I’m usually turned away from him, and he has an arm slung around my waist, holding me to him like he is scared I’m gonna run away in my sleep. Yesterday, his hold was gentle, like he was just holding me for comfort instead of keeping me prisoner.