Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 52062 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52062 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
She’s soft and pliant and leans up against the mirror like a rag doll. She doesn’t fight me. She can barely keep her eyes open. And if it wasn’t for her violent shivering, I think she would pass out.
When she's finally bare, I strip down to my briefs and lift her into my arms again. She's so light and fragile. Nothing like the fierce woman who enjoyed calling me an asshole.
The shower is a warm cascade when I step under the spray with her cradled against my chest. She doesn't flinch. Doesn't react. Just hangs limp in my arms while the water pounds down on us both.
"Come on, solnyshko," I murmur against her hair. "Wake up for me."
Nothing.
I adjust my grip, one arm around her waist, the other cradling her head against my shoulder. The hot water streams over us, and I can feel her slowly come back to me. Her skin goes from ice-cold to merely cold. Her breathing deepens slightly.
"Holly." My voice is rough. "I need you to wake up now."
Her eyelids flutter.
"That's it. Come back to me."
A soft sound escapes her throat and then those big brown eyes crack open.
"Nikolai..." My name is barely a whisper on her lips.
"I've got you." I pull her tighter against me, and she melts into my body, limp in my arms under the cascade of warm water. "I’ll never let you fall."
She shivers, and I turn us slightly so the water hits her back directly. Her fingers curl weakly against my chest.
I hold her up as the water works its magic, bringing color back to her cheeks.
I press my lips to her forehead and feel the chill still lingering there.
"Stay with me," I say quietly. "Don't fall asleep."
"But I’m so tired..." Her words slur together, and her eyes start to drift closed again.
"No." I shift her in my arms, and her eyes snap back open. "You need to stay awake a little longer. Can you do that for me?"
She nods weakly against my shoulder.
"Good girl." I brush wet hair from her face. "You stay awake, and I'll make you one of Katya’s hot cocoas. She thinks it’s a secret recipe, but I’ve known it for years."
A ghost of a smile touches her lips. "Will there be extra marshmallows?"
"As many as you want, malyshka, as many as you want."
"Okay." Her voice is small.
We stay under the water until her shivering subsides and I'm certain the cold has released its grip on her. Only then do I turn off the shower and wrap her in a towel.
She sways on her feet, so I lift her onto the counter again and dry her carefully. Every inch of exposed skin. Every strand of wet hair. She watches me with heavy-lidded eyes, too exhausted to protest.
When she's dry, I carry her to the bedroom and dress her in warm clothes. Thick socks. Soft leggings. One of my sweaters that swallows her whole. She doesn't resist. Just lets me move her limbs like a doll while I work.
"Can you walk?" I ask when I'm finished.
She nods, but when her feet hit the floor, her knees buckle. I catch her before she falls and sweep her back into my arms.
"Easy, solnyshko," I murmur.
I settle her on the couch closest to the fireplace. The flames are already roaring, courtesy of one of my men, and I tuck a blanket around her.
I change quickly into dry clothes and step away to find Dmitri.
He's in the kitchen with two of the security team, and they all straighten when I enter.
“What do you need, Nikolai?”
“Hot cocoa for Holly,” I tell him.
He dismisses the security men and then turns back to me. “I’ll make it.”
“No, I’ve got it.”
Dmitri doesn't question it as I move to the stove and start fixing Holly’s hot cocoa. The distraction is welcomed. Because the adrenaline is still coursing through me and I need to keep my hands busy.
When I knew Holly had gone, I hadn’t waited for Dmitri or my security men. I went looking for her myself.
Then, two miles up the road, I saw them. The wide arcs carved into the snow where a vehicle had swerved and gone over the edge and down the embankment.
I ran to the edge and looked down into the steep drop, and for the first time in years, I felt genuine fear.
Not the calculated awareness of danger that keeps a man like me alive.
Real fear.
The kind that claws at your chest and squeezes your heart until you can't breathe.
Because I knew she was down there. Somewhere in that wreckage and snow and broken trees.
And I knew she would be terrified.
The realization hit me as I was scrambling down that embankment. That this was the same kind of accident that killed her parents. A car going off a snowy road. The same helpless terror. The same cold closing in.