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“Can you walk?” I ask gently, watching her sway with mounting anxiety.
She gives a small nod and starts to shuffle forward.
But as soon as she shifts her weight, her legs give out completely.
Though I know I shouldn’t touch her, I can’t let her fall. Catching her before she hits the ground, I scoop her up into my arms. I cradle her against my chest, and this time, she doesn’t try to resist.
As if all the fight has left her, she curls limply against my chest. Cheek pressed to my collarbone, she keeps her eyes down. It kills me to see her so defeated, to feel the way she shivers as if frozen to the bone.
She’s probably in shock and needs something to bring her temperature back up.
Without a backward glance, I carry her slight frame out into the hall, through the foyer, and back upstairs. Curious eyes peer through cracks in the doorways of adjoining rooms–guests wondering what the gunshots were for, I’m sure. But no one asks. And as soon as they see me, they slip back into the shadows of their rooms before closing and locking their doors.
When I reach the end of the hall, I step inside Silvia’s room. I maneuver the door closed with my foot, intensely aware of the similarity between now and when I first carried her into her room. Only this time, there’s nothing steamy or sensual about the way I hold her in my arms.
I carry her into the bathroom and set her gently onto the edge of the tub so I can keep a close eye on her as I draw her a bath. Tears still run down her cheeks, silently now, revealing two salty tracks of bare skin in her makeup. What I wouldn’t give to wash her face clean, to see the beautiful glow of her milky skin beneath.
But that’s not up to me.
Focusing on the task at hand, I check the temperature of the water to make sure it’s warm but not too hot. Then I add soothing bath salts that leave a frothy layer of bubbles on the water’s surface.
Silvia remains still and painfully quiet. Only her bursts of shuddering quakes tell me her body’s fighting to survive.
Once I’ve collected all the necessary bath essentials and filled the tub, I turn the water off.
“Can I… help you into the tub?” I offer.
Her eyes look so hauntingly hollow, I’m not sure she’ll think to get into the tub without my assistance. At the same time, I doubt she wants me to touch her, let alone see her naked. But when I stand and offer her my hand, she takes it.
Her fingers are icy against my palm, her grip too weak to be of any consequence, and I help her to a stand before guiding her into the tub.
She pauses there, one hand clinging to the buttons of my suit jacket, as if resistant to taking it off. At least in front of me.
“Are you okay on your own?” I ask, doubt knotting my stomach.
She’s so frighteningly weak.
But it’s the silence that punches a hole through my chest. She hasn’t said a word to me. And the question only seems to intensify her tears. I’ve made such a mess of this.
“I’ll go. But if you need anything, just call.” Steeling myself, I release her hand and force myself to exit the bathroom.
But when I reach the bedroom door, I hesitate. Hand on the knob, I turn to look over my shoulder. It takes everything in me to step outside and leave her there alone.
Quietly, the door clicks shut behind me. In the hall, I lean back against the solid wood and slowly sink to the floor.
My brain’s a muddle of thoughts and emotions. Overwhelming guilt gnaws at my stomach–knowing that I’ve traumatized Silvia, probably beyond repair. Not only did I disregard her modesty, take advantage of her innocence, and use her. I left her vulnerable and unprotected in a house full of predators. And she was attacked.
I can’t imagine how horrible it must have been.
And the overwhelming protectiveness surging through me doesn’t make my inner turmoil any less. I know without a shadow of a doubt that I’m falling for Silvia. Hard. I knew it when I proved too weak to resist her tempting body. And seeing those men touching her only solidified it. I would have broken every single bone in the predators’ bodies to keep her safe.
But how can I keep her safe when I’m the one causing her pain?
21
SILVIA
The click of the door closing brings me back to the present, and I realize I’m still standing. Pyotr’s fine suit jacket surrounds me with the warm, comforting smell of his cologne, and though I know I can’t take a bath in it, I don’t want to take it off. It feels like a shield, fortifying me with his strength.
