My eyes drift to the bedside table. I reach out and pick up his black credit card. Of course he has ablackcard.
“There is no limit. Get whatever you want. Anything,” he tells me.
I set the card down again. “I’ll get the essentials.”
He raises his brows at me. “There is no limit. I mean that.”
I smile. “I’ll get what Ineed, Kristopher,” I say more sternly. “Was there anything else?”
“Eat some food. Your bodyneedsit,” he says, bossy as ever.
Kristopher stands at my bedside for a moment, our eyes locked.
I glare at him, trying to make him go away. I’m so exposed, so raw, so vulnerable to that beautiful stare of his.
“I’ll be downstairs, if you need anything,” he says, finally breaking the tense silence.
I nod.
He steps back and cocks his head to the side. “It’s good to see some color in your cheeks, Georgie. You’re going to feel so much better after food and some fresh clothes.”
His voice is laced with care. It churns my heart, making it flutter like a little bird.Hope. Hope for what? My silly daydream that I’ve had for years? The one where he falls in love with me?
Pfft.
Don’t be ridiculous, Georgie. This is the real world. Not some fairy tale.
Life is full of pain.
Trauma.
Not beautiful, wistful stories with knights in shining armor.
Although…
He turns to walk away, and guilt stabs through me. He’s not the one who did those things to me. Yes, he made me marry him, but it’s far better than if he’d left me to be sold to someoneelse. I hate what he did to me…but the alternative was worse. I can’t deny that.
“Kris,” I call his name, and instantly he stops, his back to me. I take a deep breath, my throat feeling tight.
“Yes?” he says, turning to face me. His grey eyes are bright, intense.
“Thank you,” I whisper, hardly able to look into his eyes.
The smile that spreads over his face is gorgeous. Warm and beautiful.
“There is no need to thank me, little one,” he says, then turns away and leaves me alone with a plate of breakfast and coffee that smells like heaven.
I sigh loudly and flop back onto the pillows, pulling the blanket right up over my face.
After the shower, dressed in a very stylish pair of jeans that I think cost more than a year’s worth of university fees, I wander downstairs to explore a little and stretch my legs. My body is aching. The bruises are tender, but my muscles are worse.
I’ll be okay in a few days, though.
Nothing broken. I’m still standing. Have to focus on the positives.
I’m carrying my breakfast dishes, so I first head to the kitchen, finding the housekeeper in there cleaning up.
“Good morning…oh…afternoon,” I smile.
