“Princess,” he corrects, his voice gruff against my ear. “My princess.”
I’ve never been anyone’s princess. Never been the kind of girl who inspired that sort of devotion or protection. I was raised bya practical woman who taught me to fix my own flat tires and grow my own food, who valued self-sufficiency above all else.
Yet here I am, melting into the arms of a man who calls me princess and carries me to the bath like I might break if he sets me on my feet.
“This is crazy,” I whisper, not sure if I’m talking to him or myself. “We barely know each other.”
“Sometimes things are just meant to be.” He reaches for a bottle on the edge of the tub, pouring something that smells like expensive salon products into his palm. “Some connections just exist, whether we planned them or not.”
His fingers slide into my hair, working the shampoo into a lather. I moan involuntarily as he massages my scalp, strong fingers finding pressure points I didn’t know existed.
“Close your eyes,” he instructs softly.
I obey without thinking, surrendering to the gentle work of his hands. Water sluices over my head as he rinses the shampoo, careful to keep suds from my eyes. The tenderness of it all makes my throat ache.
When he’s done, I lean back against him again, my wet hair dripping onto his chest. Something about this moment, the intimacy of being bathed, the quiet vulnerability of sitting naked in his arms, gives me courage I might not otherwise have.
I turn slightly, looking up at him over my shoulder. “Can I ask you something?”
His gray eyes search mine. “Yes.”
“How did you get the scar?” I reach up, tracing the raised ridge that splits his face with gentle fingertips.
He stiffens slightly beneath my touch, but doesn’t pull away. For a moment, I think he won’t answer, that I’ve pushed too far, too fast.
Then he sighs, a sound that seems to come from somewhere deep inside him. “Foster care,” he says simply. “From fourteen to eighteen. Six different homes in four years.”
I stay quiet, giving him space to continue at his own pace.
“The last placement was the worst. The father was... cruel. Liked to hit when he was drunk, which was most of the time.” His voice is flat, matter-of-fact, but I feel the tension in his body. “About a week before my eighteenth birthday, he went after the youngest kid. Seven years old, barely spoke English, terrified of his own shadow.”
My heart constricts, already seeing where this is going.
“I stepped in. Took the hit meant for the kid.” His hand finds mine in the water, fingers intertwining. “He had a ring on. Heavy, some kind of college class ring. That’s what did this.” He gestures to the scar with his free hand.
“I fought back. For the first time, I fought back. Put him in the hospital.” There’s no remorse in his voice, just cold statement of fact. “Packed my shit and left that night, before the cops could come. Spent my eighteenth birthday sleeping in a bus station.”
I squeeze his hand, throat tight. “I’m so sorry.”
He shrugs, the movement rippling the water around us. “It was a long time ago.”
“But it still matters,” I say softly. “It’s still part of who you are.”
His eyes meet mine, something vulnerable and surprised in their depths. “Yes,” he admits after a moment. “It is.”
I settle back against his chest, his arms coming around me again. “Is that why you started the foundation? The one for foster kids?”
“You’ve been doing your research.” There’s no accusation in his tone, just mild surprise.
“It was in the calendar invitations. The foundation gala. When you were... when we were in your office.”
A small laugh rumbles through his chest. “Right. While I had my fingers inside you.”
Heat flares in my cheeks at the memory. “I still heard you. I listen, even when you’re... distracting me.”
His hand traces lazy circles on my stomach beneath the water. “Yes. That’s why I started it. Eight years ago, right after Asher Security Systems took off. I had more money than I knew what to do with, and...” He trails off, something distant in his expression.
“And you wanted to help kids like you,” I finish for him. “Kids aging out of the system with nowhere to go.”
