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“You don’t understand,” she finally breaks her silence.
“No, I don’t. But this—” I point at her neck again. “Whatever happened between you and him, this is not okay. You stay here and let me deal with that man.”
Her gaze holds me hostage. She’s a Latina. Her natural brunette hair makes her even more stunning, trumping the torment on her face. And those blue eyes. Rob warned me to go the other way, but with her looking at me like this, how could I?
I still feel her resistance, but as her eyes gradually mellow, I know the distance she’s set between us is shrinking.
Her plump lips slowly form a gape. They look rosier now, but the sensation of my mouth trembling over them is still fresh—when I thought I was losing her.
Then she falls onto me, latching a fierce hug around my waist. “Clayton.” Her whisper-faint voice goes straight to my core.
I put my arms around her. It’s like the pieces of my life finally fall into place. When something so profound strikes you, every organ in your body knows. It’s no illusion. It’s no game.
“Stay, please,” I murmur as she sags in my embrace. “That man has no right—no right!”
She stays silent, but her body responds to my plea. Her fingers cling to my back as she straightens herself. Her shoulders curve toward mine, letting her breathing lead her body forward, erasing the slightest distance that’s left between us. I hold her right there, because I never want us to part.
Before I can declare my intention to protect her, someone is at the door. It’s not very often efficiency in this country makes an impression on me, and it comes as I’m starting to truly feel who the woman in my arms is. But her welfare is more important than my urge to keep comforting her.
“Mr. Hartley?” A deep voice calls.
“It must be the doctor,” I murmur.
Her arms slide down my sides as she breaks our embrace.
A man in a suit stands by the door. There’s no sign of his medical kit, only a phone in his hand.
“Where the hell is the doctor?” I stop the man from entering.
“He’s on his way. I’m here because I’ve got an important phone call for the lady.”
I turn around. Her face blanches even more than when she wasn’t breathing.
“Mom!” I hear a boy’s voice coming out of the speaker.
She has a son?
“Raffi!” She thrusts past me, as if she had leaped across the room in one go. She rushes toward the man who has let himself in and snatches the phone off him. “Raffi, are you okay? Where’s Pippa?”
She grimaces in distress, pacing the length of the room.
“You’ll be okay, Raffi. I’ll be home soon.”
The call ends when the man takes the phone back off her. He holds her, and she walks out with him as if she’s been brainwashed.
I stand in their way. “You don’t have to come back to him.”
“Mr. Hartley, let us pass,” the man insists.
But I stand my ground. He doesn’t seem to be interested in picking a fight with me. He simply lets her take half a step closer to me.
She clutches the blanket I wrapped her with, covering her chest. “We never met. Got that?” Her ominous voice lances me. “If you come near me again, I’ll report you to the Kenyan police. I’ll tell them you tried to assault me.”
“No, you won’t!” I reach out my hand, trying to convince her to stay with me. But she pushes me with her two open palms.
Jesus! I’ve never been shoved like that by a woman before.
What happened to her calling my name? Not once, not twice. But three times!
