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He sucks in a breath, and fury flashes through his eyes, followed by worry. “I didn’t realize your things were in his home, you lived there?”
“Um, well, that was part of the agreement. I was Damon’s for six months,” I pause, trying to collect myself since I can feel the anxiety lapping at the pit of my stomach. “All day, every day. I didn’t bring much to his place, but he didn’t let me bring anything to the club except the heels and trench coat I was wearing. My bag with all of my identification,” I conveniently leave out that it’s my newly acquired identification that Damon acquired from somewhere for me, “as well as my clothes and some personal effects are all at his home. Unless he tossed it all.” Which I wouldn’t put past him, he’s a real bastard.
Without a word, Matthew pulls his phone out of his pocket and has it to his ear before I can even ask what he is up to. “Daniels,” he says curtly. “Get in touch with Damon and arrange to collect Rose’s things from him.” There’s a pause as he listens to Kisten. “I agree. Quite convenient, he forgot to mention it.” Another pause as he listens. “She is due to leave tomorrow, so don’t let that fucker dick you around.” Another pause, but whatever is said, this time turns his scowl into a terrible smile. “Oh, yes, any means Kist. Any means.” I can’t hold in the shudder at the tone in his voice. This is not a man to mess with at all. In fact, this is a man that I would normally want to stay far, far away from, but for some reason, I want to stay right here with him.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I whisper. “You’ve done too much for me already. I’ll never be able to repay my debt to you.” I don’t even realize that a couple traitorous tears have slipped from my eyes until he wipes them away with his thumb. He gently cups my face between his two strong hands. He could do a world of damage to me with those hands, but he holds me like a fragile shell that could fracture and break with the slightest grip.
“Listen to me, I didn’t do any of this because I expect repayment. I righted a wrong by helping you.” Matthew’s voice is filled with conviction. “It’s getting late, and you’re still healing. Let’s get you settled, and don’t you worry about Damon. Daniels will get your stuff, and in the morning, this will all be a fading memory.” He pulls the light blanket down to the foot of the bed and guides me over to it. I awkwardly reach down to pull my dress off, but the tightness in my healing skin causes me to suck in a breath. I usually call the nurse for this part, it’s much easier to dress than to undress for some reason. Without my asking, he reaches down and tugs my dress off in one quick motion. I’m almost embarrassed, but he’s seen me naked more often than clothed in the days I’ve been here, so I can’t find it in me to be shy.
He grabs my elbow and helps steady me as I climb onto the soft bed, then he pulls the light blanket over my body, letting it rest just below my shoulder blades. It’s been a long while since anyone has cared enough about me to tuck me into bed, my heart constricts at the thought that this is the last time I will have with my hero. I’ve seriously grown attached to him and still refer to him in my thoughts as my hero instead of by his name.
“Sleep sweet, love.” He leans over and presses a kiss to my forehead. Before he can pull away, and before my brain even registers what I’m doing, my hand latches onto his arm. He looks down at me in question. I honestly don’t know what I’m doing, but my heart is breaking at the thought that he’s leaving me.
That this is the last time I’ll have with him. The thought is unbearable.
“Please, Matthew, will you stay tonight? Will you lay here with me? I just… I don’t want to be alone.”
He pulls away from me, and my heart breaks with the knowledge that he’s going to walk away. I’m surprised when, instead, he toes off his shoes, then slips out of his shirt and pants folding them neatly on what I think of as his chair. I suck in a breath as I take him in. Without a bit of self-consciousness, he stands in front of me in nothing but a tight pair of black boxer briefs.
He’s gorgeous. Perfectly defined muscles and a trim waist. He’s drool-worthy, and I’m almost disappointed that I don’t get to look my fill. The disappointment only lasts for a moment, because then he’s crawling onto the bed beside me. I’m not sure what I expected but being pulled onto his chest and practically draped over his body, isn’t it.
I’m stiff for a minute, but then he weaves his fingers into my hair, and starts massaging my head and I sink into him. My ear is directly over his rapidly thudding heart, my arm thrown over his tight stomach. I wiggle around, trying to find the most comfortable position for my still injured backside. By the time I’m settled in, my leg ends up tangled between his. Careful of my still healing wounds, he runs his fingers lightly down the length of my body. It’s like he memorized where every single whelp is on my body and knows just where to touch me in order to avoid each and every painful mark.
Lost in his arms, I quickly fall asleep. For the first time in longer than I can remember, my sleep isn’t plagued with nightmares.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ROSE
There’s a quick knock on the door seconds before the overhead light is turned on, causing instant confusion to my sleep riddled brain. Not to mention temporary blindness from the harsh lighting. The abrupt wakeup has my heart pounding in my chest and the anxiety bubbling up from the dark pit inside me where it lives. Nothing good ever comes from this kind of intrusion, and my brain is starting to click into survival mode again. Before I can get swept away by the storm raging inside me, Matthew pulls me closer to his body in a protective move. “I’ve got you, sweet girl, it’s just Kisten,” his sleep rough voice is a calming balm on my nerves. “That’s it, love, just breath.”
I snuggle closer into Matthew’s arms, utterly oblivious to the fact that I am rubbing my naked body all over his mostly naked body in front of his employee. The only thought I have is that for whatever reason, Matthew cuts through the darkness, unlike anything else ever has before.
“Thanks,” I whisper shyly.
He presses his lips to the top of my head in reply. The sweetness of the move is totally foreign to me, but at the same time familiar. I try to place the feeling of familiarity, but it’s fleeting a thought. Like trying to hold onto a dream after you’ve woken up.
I learned long ago dreams are a dangerous thing. It’s best to not dream at all because, more often than not, sweet dreams are chased away by nightmares. In my experience, you don’t even have to be asleep for the nightmares to find you. I’ve been stuck in my head trying to place these weird feelings Matthew brings out in me and haven’t been paying a bit of attention to the conversation, but hearing my name brings me back to the here and now.
“Rose, I’ve got your things,” Kisten says. “Apparently, Damon had the housekeeper clean out your room, and she was instructed to throw everything away. Luckily, she kept a few things, but I’m afraid all of your clothing is gone.”
“Oh,” I don’t really know what else to say. My stuff is gone. Not that there was much to begin with, but it was all I had. I look over at the small shoebox that’s sitting on the chair, that’s all that is left of my life.
Matthew lets out a few choice words, but ever the fixer, he instantly directs Kisten to have his assistant gather some things that I can wear since I’m supposed to be going home today. Kisten leaves the room, and Matthew gets out of bed, dressing quickly. He helps me to stand and gently wraps a silk robe over my shoulders so that I am no longer exposed. Someone from the restaurant brings breakfast, at the same time Kisten comes back carrying an obnoxious pink bag and a small pile of clothing.
“Several of the girls pitched in some things.”
I am bowled over by the kindness these people have shown me—a complete stranger. “Thank you.”
Two hours later, I am dressed in my hand-me-down clothes, toting my few belongings in my obnoxiously pink purse, as I wander aimlessly down the sidewalk. Matthew insisted that I let Kisten drive me home. Well, since I have no home to go to anymore, I had him drop me off in front of a large apartment complex. I walked right up to the doors like I belonged. When he drove off, I exited the building, and I’ve been walking around ever since. I haven’t decided what I’m going to do yet.
I do know I need to go to the bank and make a withdrawal. No matter the risk that touching an account with my real name poses. I need money. One of the first things I did when I ran away was to open up a bank account. Well, after I got help from one of the women’s shelters getting a copy of my birth certificate and social security card. I wasn’t able to get a driver’s license because I can’t drive, but for the first time in my life, I had a picture ID.
I haven’t touched my account since I moved. Moved, such a nice way to say after I ran for my life when someone showed up at the shelter I was staying at with my picture asking if anyone had seen their missing sister. Of course, it being a women’s shelter, they didn’t give the person any information, but my new home wasn’t safe any longer. When I ran from Kansas City, I left everything behind except for what I could stuff into my backpack. I didn’t waste time closing out my meager bank account, I had two-hundred dollars and thirteen cents in cash when I stole into the night. Half of that went toward a bus ticket to New York City, and the rest quickly disappeared into food costs and necessities.
Being homeless in New York City is a lot different than homeless in Kansas City. I was quickly able to get placed in a long-term shelter that helps victims of domestic abuse get back on their feet again in Kansas City. In New York, not so much. There are a lot of shelters, but the waitlists for long-term housing are long.
For the last two months, I’ve been bouncing from one temporary shelter to the next. Too scared to apply for a job that would run a background check, I’ve been working odd cleaning jobs getting paid cash under the table. Not enough to survive in NYC, but enough to eat and buy a decent pair of shoes. I look down at the lime green flip-flops on my feet and feel the overwhelming urge to cry.
