Ned’s eyes are wide and dark. My mouth is dry, but I nod for him to continue.
“He called us his rainbow and assigned us each a color. It became our name, and we were forced to wear stupid clothes in our color. I was Indigo. The other boys have reclaimed their harem name in some sort of power move that I don’t quite understand, but fully respect.”
Ned huffs out a breath. “Sorry, got sidetracked there. So…um…anyway, we went through hell together. So when one of them needs me, I’m there.”
He drops my gaze and fiddles with his cup of tea. I am utterly lost for words.
“It is the only time I would ever be flaky with the kids,” he says it so softly, I only just hear him.
My mind is reeling. My stomach is churning. I am devastated for Ned, what an unimaginably horrific thing to have happened to him and his friends. Sex slaves? It is the most barbaric thing I have ever heard of.
“Is Jade alright?” I burble, as some frazzled part of my mind limps into a semi-form of functioning.
“He is now. He was at work. Think it was a full on panic attack.”
I run my shaking hand through my hair. My heart is bleeding for Ned. I’m not sure I have ever felt pain quite like this. The only thing that tops it was when Jennifer’s death finally sunk in.
I’m not a violent man, but I think if I ever got my hands on this billionaire, that would probably change.
“I love the kids. I love my job. I know I don’t deserve it, but please don’t fire me.”
The look in Ned’s eyes is frantic. Desperate, imploring. I reach out and take his hand. He is freezing.
“I’m not going to fire you, Ned.”
He stares into my soul. Seeking the truth of my words. Finally he nods. Then his Adam’s apple bobs and he drops his gaze.
Jesus Christ, I can feel my heart breaking. It is shattering into a thousand pieces.
“I completely understand if the answer is no, but I would like to give you a hug,” I say.
Ned doesn’t look up. But he nods. And for some reason, instead of going to him, I pull him to me. I place him on my lap and enfold him in my arms. Then I simply hold him while he trembles softly.
I will hold him all night if it helps.
I would do anything for him. Absolutely anything at all.
Because he is Ned. My Ned. And nothing can change that.
Chapter eleven
Ned
Consciousness slowly settles over me like a warm, fuzzy blanket. Awareness comes to me in a slow, steady drip of information. The softness of the pillow beneath my head, the gentle weight of the blanket over my body, and the firm warmth of someone holding me.
It’s morning. I’m in Morgan’s bed. He is spooning me.
Nothing happened last night. Well, nothing fun. He simply held me while I fell apart, and he is still holding me now. I’m wearing one of his tee shirts, and he’s in a pair of boxers. The heat of his naked chest radiates into my back, warming me in a way I haven’t felt since I... died. Yes, died. A heavy word that hangs in the metaphorical air, but there’s no denying it. Since then, I haven’t felt warmth, not real warmth, until now.
I slept like a baby. For hours. It’s a miracle. Especially considering how increasingly restless my nights have been lately. I’ve become used to cold beds and colder dreams, so the peace I found in Morgan’s arms feels like an oasis after years of wandering in the desert. If I had known that the cure for both my sleeplessness and permanent chillyflesh, was being snuggled by a hot guy, I would have started doing it decades ago.
But now that I’ve discovered it, I’m not sure I’ll be getting a repeat. Last night, I completely fell apart. I didn’t realize how tightly I had been holding everything in until the dam finally burst. All my fear, pain, regret, and stress. Every dark emotion I’d experienced in the harem, it all came flooding out. A torrent I couldn’t stop. And Morgan was there for it all.
Now, in the calm aftermath, I feel lighter, almost... cleansed. It’s as though a boil has been lanced, and all the disgusting pus has drained away, leaving me with a euphoric sense of peace.
Morgan was wonderful, so kind, so gentle. He just held me, seeming to know that was all I needed. I didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to do anything. I only wanted to be held, to feel anchored by someone who wasn’t afraid of my storm.
The feel of his strong arms around me was everything. But that had to have been a lot for him. Surely, I’ve scared him away. No one wants to deal with that level of emotional meltdown, right? He’s not going to have any feelings for me now. All I’ll get from him is pity. And isn’t that a crying shame?
