Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 157450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
“I will think about it.” She smirks, feeling more lighthearted.
He laughs, and she breathes a sigh of relief. She will have something to do while his people resolve her immigration status.
A warmth spreads through her body. This is not where she thought her life might lead, here in this old, grand house with this handsome, gentle, kind man. Of course she had fantasized about it—in a vague way. But she thought it was impossible.
She had challenged her destiny and taken a huge risk when she left Albania, and fate had not let go without a fight.
Yet her Mister had intervened, and now she’s here with him.
Safe.
He loves her, and she loves him. And the future stretches before her, full of possibility. Perhaps, after all this time, fortune has turned its benign smile on her.
Chapter Twenty-Five
A primal wail disturbs my dream, waking me in an instant.
Alessia.
In the soft light from the little dragon, I see that she’s asleep beside me, but utterly still, her hands clenched into fists beneath her chin. She’s like a statue petrified by some natural disaster. She parts her lips and cries out again, the most eerie and unearthly of sounds. I prop myself up on my elbow and gently shake her awake.
“Alessia. Sweetheart. Wake up.”
Her eyelids fly open. She looks around wildly and immediately starts fighting me off.
“Alessia. It’s me. Maxim.” I grab her hands before she does either of us any harm.
“M…M…Maxim,” she whispers, and stops struggling.
“You’re having a bad dream. I’m here. I’ve got you.” I gather her in my arms and pull her on top of me, kissing the crown of her head. She’s trembling.
“I…I thought…I thought…” she stutters.
“It’s okay. It’s just a bad dream. You’re safe.” I hold her and tenderly stroke her back, wishing I could take all her fear and pain away. She shivers but seems to settle, and before long she’s asleep again.
I close my eyes, one hand in her hair and the other on her back, enjoying her weight and her skin against mine. I could get used to this.
* * *
Alessia wakes in the gray light of early morning. She’s nestled under Maxim’s arm, her hand splayed on his belly. He’s fast asleep, with his face turned toward her. His hair is tousled, his lips slightly parted, and his cheeks and jawline shaded with stubble. He looks relaxed and quite irresistible. She stretches out beside him, enjoying the pull of her muscles. Her side is a little sore, and her bruise is still tender, but she feels…good.
No. More than good.
Hopeful. Calm. Powerful. Safe.
Because of this wonderful man asleep beside her.
She loves him. With all her heart.
And what’s more remarkable, he loves her, too. She can scarcely believe it.
He’s given her hope.
Maxim stirs, and his eyelids blink open.
“Good morning,” she whispers.
“It is now,” he answers with a mischievous gleam in his eye. “You look lovely. Sleep well?”
“Yes.”
“You had a nightmare.”
“Me? Last night?”
“You don’t remember?”
Alessia shakes her head. He skims her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “I’m glad you don’t. How are you feeling?”
“Good.”
“Good or good?” His tone is sultry.
“Very good.” She grins.
Maxim rolls over, pinning her to the mattress, and stares down at her, his green eyes glowing. “God, I love waking up next to you,” he whispers, and kisses her throat. She throws her arms around his neck and surrenders gladly to his skilled mouth.
* * *
“I suppose we should get up and go back to London,” Maxim murmurs against her belly. Alessia’s fingers play with his hair, but she’s too relaxed to move. She’s relishing the few moments of quiet after their passionate storm. Finally he interrupts her reverie. “Shower with me.” He turns his head to look up at her with the broadest of smiles.
How can she resist?
* * *
Alessia towel-dries her hair while I shave. The bruise on her side looks smaller, but it’s still a livid purple. A wave of guilt washes through me—she certainly gave me no indication last night or this morning that she was in any pain. She gives me a dazzling smile over her shoulder, and like a sea mist in the breeze, my guilt fades into the ether.
Part of me wants to stay here with her forever. But I’m also anxious to leave. I don’t want Sergeant Nancarrow or his colleague coming to the Hall to interview Alessia. I need to keep her away from the police. If necessary, I’ll inform him that business has taken me back to London.
It will be a shame to go. I’m enjoying our comfortable familiarity, and I marvel at the change in her. She seems far more confident, and it’s been only a few days. Tossing her hair to the side, with a glance at me, she strolls out of the bathroom, naked as the day she was born. I peek around the doorframe; the view is too tantalizing not to enjoy, her hair swinging almost to her waist in a gentle counterpoint to her walk. She stops at the bed and rummages through the wicker basket on the ottoman, looking for some clothes. When she glances up and catches me gawking, she smirks. And I move back to stare at my reflection in the mirror with a smug grin. Her newfound confidence is sexy as hell.