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Elena
When I woke, it wasn’t until I tried to move that last night came flooding back to me. I was staring at an unfamiliar ceiling, with no memory of how I came to be there. The shock sent me scooting up the sinfully soft, downy bed I was lying in. A sharp, dull ache in my ankle arrested that movement, and the previous night slammed into me like a freight train.
The performance. Elliot’s trembling hands.
The fall.
So, where the fuck was I now? I looked around the room. It had pale wooden floors and white walls. A whole side of glass looked out over Central Park, and morning light filled the room with a gentle, pale brilliance. Maybe I’d died trying to climb my apartment stairs, and this was the afterlife? It certainly felt like it, and right now, I wasn’t mad about it.
However, I had one quibble. If this was the great after, why was my ankle still so sore? I shifted the cloud-like covers off my foot and stiffened with surprise. There was a wrapping on my ankle, a compression bandage, expertly applied, as well as fancy ice-gel packs, carefully molded around my swollen appendage.
Someone had spent time and money doctoring me, presumably while I was out cold. I didn’t know whether to be freaked out or thankful. Considering I had no idea where I was, I’d go with freaked out. I tried to sit up, and some kind of alarm sounded outside. Was there a motion sensor on this bed? Before I could follow that rabbit hole of fucked up thought, the door opened.
I gaped at Rafe. I couldn’t help it. If there was anyone I hadn’t been expecting, it was the gentlemanly bruiser I’d met last night.
“Good morning, Elena,” he said, leaning on the door jamb and crossing his arms over his muscle-bound chest, making his t-shirt mold to his powerful arms.
“Good morning,” I heard myself say numbly. “What am I doing here?”
“Resting. The doctor is coming in half an hour to see your ankle,” he said, coming into the room and walking to the windows. He tapped a panel on the wall, and the entire glass dimmed a little. He was talking so reasonably that it was messing with my head.
“I’m sorry. Maybe I hit my head or something, but I don’t remember how I came here,” I admitted.
“You nearly hit your head. Luckily, I was close enough to prevent that,” he said, approaching the bed. He stopped just beside me, close enough to touch me if he chose. His eyes on me felt like a physical touch. I was still wearing my leotard, but the tutu that sat over it was gone. That made sense, as it would have been impossible to lie flat.
“You were close enough to prevent it? Didn’t we say goodbye at the theatre? How were you close enough?”
Rafe shrugged then, with a perfect, arrogant nonchalance you had to be born with.“I followed you.”
“Excuse me?” I wondered if I was hearing things.
“I followed you home,” he repeated calmly, like that wasn’t fucking insane. “I’m not going to hurt you if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“Good to know.” I felt like I was going to be sick. I was dizzy, in pain, and fucking scared of this man. “Why?” I couldn’t even shift away from Rafe on the bed. My leg felt like it was pinned to the mattress.
“I don’t think you know much about Hugh James. He can be dangerous if he feels threatened. Does he know where you live?”
“Hugh?” I repeated, struggling to follow the conversation. “I don’t know. Maybe. I let him walk me home months ago. I didn’t know what he was like, and he’s friends with Alessio, the ballet company director.” I flushed as I spoke. I felt like there was a scarlet “A” on my forehead for admitting to giving Hugh the time of day.
Rafe merely nodded, his handsome face serene.“As you see, you aren’t safe there. Besides, how would you manage with your ankle?”
“That’s my problem. Who tended to it last night?”
“A doctor. The same one who will come today, any minute now,” Rafe said before standing. “I’ll bring you some breakfast.”
He got to the door before I found my voice.
“I can’t afford a private doctor bill. I don’t have the money,” I confessed, feeling lower than low.
As always, the shame at being so incapable of providing for myself met the aggression and grit inside me, and my drooping chin bounded back up. I fixed Rafe with a look I’d honed over years of being the poorest person I knew. The only kid with holes in her clothes and too small shorts. The only student who didn’t have lunch to eat. The one whose mother worked three jobs and was never home.
He met my eyes without flinching.“I do.”
“Why would you help me, though? What do you want in return?” I called to him, steeling myself for his answer.
What could a man like Rafe possibly want from me? I wasn’t very creative, and there were only a few obvious answers popping up in my head to that question. The scandalous nature of the idea aside, I didn’t think I’d be opposed to being propositioned by this man. His appeal was undeniable.
“To see you dance again, angel. That’s all,” he replied.
