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He also said he’d keep me alive.
Last I checked, I’m breathing.
Chapter Eighteen
Lyriope
Time is a luxury.
As I look around the white of my room with splashes of color, I realize that I’ve never had time. I’ve never been able to sleep in, have a leisurely meal, binged movies for hours and hours, nor had the luxury of time to paint for fun and not toward a purpose. I’ve always felt like I’ve chased the white rabbit of time.
Faster. Faster. Faster. No time to enjoy or savor the moment.
Yes, time is a luxury, and for the first time in my life, I got to soak it all up these past few days.
Though I’ve been alone for the most part, with Martha and of course Diane constantly checking on me, I haven’t minded one bit. I’ve had a break from reality. I’ve had a pause in my nightmare of a life. I’ve gotten to just live in this wondrous dreamland of sorts, and I don’t want to see it end.
Martha told me this morning, as Diane dressed me, that Nick would be returning tonight. My heart skipped at the news, and I couldn’t keep my thoughts off of him all day. And now, as the moon rises over the horizon, I wonder if he’s in the mansion and just not saying hello. I consider leaving my room and searching for him, but I don’t know if I’m ready to face him head on. The last time I saw him, he was punishing me. And yet… I don’t hate him at all. As the days have passed, my shield is lowering more and more. I’m seeing specks of good in the man even though you really have to pay close attention to see them. I can’t deny the fact that I’m safe. I’m protected from the cruel and dangerous world outside these walls. Though it may be temporary, I’ve loved every moment that I can breathe comfortably, and I know Nick Hudson is the reason for this.
I pause a moment from my sculpture, attempting to blow a stray piece of hair off my forehead, but finally reach up and brush it away with the back of my dust-coated hand. Remembering how Nick had punished me, lights up my body and sends a bolt of lightning to my sex. A soft moan escapes me, my body responding, remembering how it had felt like when I was being claimed as his and deserving of his erotic discipline, in fact, even wanting more.
Shaking the memory away, knowing it is just that, a memory, I lift my shoulders up and down a few times. I might not be able to ease the sexual ache in my body, but at least I can attempt to loosen my muscles, tight from standing over a block of stone, chipping off pieces until my heart’s content. The muscles in my arms and shoulder ache from being used so much, but I don’t want to stop.
“You already look stronger.”
I jump at the sound of Nick’s voice. My face floods with heat as I turn to see he’s come into my bedroom. I wonder if he somehow knows my thoughts. Part of me knows he meant the massive workout that sculpting gives me, the burn in my muscles. Another part of me thinks he means my confidence. My sense of self. I feel stronger, too. The shadow of the room and the angle of his head shield the depths of his eyes. Even without trying, he exudes sex appeal, and my nipples tighten, pressed against the bodice of my dress.
“I’m enjoying it.”
I feel my words come out of me as if I’m hesitant. Awkward. I don’t know what to say. Suddenly, I have no idea how to even act. I feel like some shy teenager, so aware of his intense masculinity, but terrified he finds me not worthy of his time. It’s easier to turn my back and return my attention to the sculpture I’ve been working on the past couple of days. It’s a tree dotted with large, bloodred roses, inspired by the ones from Alice in Wonderland.
I hear his cane on the floor as he crosses the room and then feel his presence behind me. He places one of his hands on each of my shoulders and begins to give a gentle massage.
“I’m sorry I had to leave for business.” He continues to massage me as he speaks, causing me to give a soft moan and revel in the delightful feeling. “I needed to go to Hong Kong.”
“Oh.” The idea of traveling so far for business seems so foreign to me. Curious what type of business would bring him all the way there, I ask, “Are you going to host a Wonderland in Hong Kong?”
“Perhaps. That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about, though. I also stopped by Morelli Holdings when I got back to New York City.”
