Sophia
I wake up with a gasp. My flesh is on fire. Wait. It’s not heat, I think as I struggle to breathe. It’s cold. Freezing, searing cold. My skin prickles with goose bumps, but a warm hand steadies my shoulder.
“Hey, hey, hey. You’re okay.” It’s James’s heavy timbre.
I’m in a bathtub. Ice cubes float and clack into each other. An ice bath? I’m confused, but all I can think is to tell him what happened.
“James… I was chased.”
“Shh. I know. The police have been called. Someone saw you get pulled into an alley.”
“It was the Russian from last night.”
“Brock’s already on it. I am, too. You’re safe here.”
“I had to pee,” I whine, trying to explain myself.
“What?”
“I had to pee so bad that I got out of the car.”
“It’s okay. You got heat exhaustion.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t. Don’t apologize.”
“Well…thank you.”
I’m not naked, thankfully. Although I don’t think I’d be embarrassed even if I was. I might as well be naked. My wet bra and underwear aren’t hiding much. And my priorities are different after seeing my life flash before my eyes on that Russki’s knife blade. I shiver, but that’s from the water.
“How long do I have to be in here?”
“You need to cool down, or it could become heat stroke.”
“Oh,” I say. That makes sense. Now that the initial shock of the cold has passed, I’m not that freezing. My internal temperature must be a couple degrees higher than normal.
“The nearest hospital is twenty minutes away. More with traffic,” James says. “Besides, they’d just be doing what I am now.” He wets a hand towel in the icy water, wrings it out, and drapes it over my forehead. Then he puts his hands into the water and holds onto one of my hands with both of his.
At first, I think it’s shock, but then I realize that the pop rocks shooting around my stomach are butterflies. My breath is short. My pulse quick.
The sleeves of his dress shirt are rolled up to the elbow. His crisp white shirt is wrinkled and soaked from sweat.
How’d he get me back here? I was only a couple blocks from the hotel. If I walked, I don’t remember. Did he carry me up here?
I don’t think too much. Or worry. I’m just thankful to be here. Alive. Safe.
James wets my hair and runs his fingers through it. I close my eyes and try to relax and not shiver as he massages my head. After another minute, he sets his hand against my forehead to gauge my temperature.
“You’re cooling down, snowflake.”
“I’m freezing,” I say and start to laugh.
He turns the water on warm and begins to wipe the grime and dust from my skin with a wet and soapy hand towel.
Who knew muscled hands could be so soft? My heart starts to beat harder the more lucid I become. The cold has made my skin sensitive to his touch. I let him wash me, gently. Wiping the dirt from my skin.
“I lost my satchel,” I say suddenly, realizing it fell in the alley.
“A bystander handed it over to the police. It’s here. I can have the plane ready in six hours to take you back to New York.”
I pause. Home would sound a lot more appealing if James wasn’t here next to me. “Are we done here already?”
“No.”
“Then I’m staying. I’m okay. I’m not in shock. At least, I don’t think.”
James nods. “Come on.”
He helps me gently to my feet and hands me a towel. My body is still exhausted, weak, and I stumble when stepping over the lip of the tub. He catches me quickly, his strong hands gripping my shoulders.
“Easy there.” He guides me so I’m sitting on the tub’s edge. He wraps a towel around my shoulders and sits next to me.
I start to shiver now that I’m out of the warm water and under the blasting A/C of the penthouse. “Is there any way we could turn the heat up?”
“Yeah. Can you get dressed on your own?”
“I’ll be fine.”
James looks at me uncertainly.
“Really. I’m good.”
“Don’t stand up too fast,” James says and leaves the bathroom.
I take off my soaking bra and underwear. I have the opposite problem of heat stroke now. My teeth are chattering.
I realize I don’t have any clean clothes here. James didn’t bring any new ones from my room, and though my old ones are piled in the bathroom, they’re filthy with sand and dirt.
I dry myself as quickly as I can and wrap the towel around my torso. I leave the bathroom and find James standing next to the kitchen island.
“Could you do me a favor and have some clean clothes brought up from my room?”
“Shit. Of course. I’ll grab your suitcases myself. We’ll be rooming up again. Until these thugs are found, we’re not going to be separated.”
“Okay.”
“You’re safe here. The hotel is aware of the situation and is lending us extra security.”
“I’m not afraid,” I say, assuring James that I haven’t been left traumatized by my encounter earlier. If anything, I’m a little proud of myself.
Okay, really proud. I kind of kicked that guy’s ass.
Sure, I had to bite him. But the stupid son of bitch should’ve seen that coming. And then how I stomped on his ankle without thinking. And I didn’t pee myself, despite my bladder being at maximum capacity.
I may have peed myself a little. I had bigger worries on my mind. But it was just a little bit of overflow and not a full-blown release. Totally excusable for the circumstances.
“Your satchel is on the hall table. So is your room key. And don’t go onto the balcony. It might not be safe.”
“Thank you, James,” I say.
His eyes linger on me, like he’s having a hard time leaving me here alone, even if it is for only a few minutes.
“I’ll be right back,” he says and turns.
I curse when the door shuts. I was planning to go out on the balcony to warm myself up. This big, airy penthouse is an icehouse . I go back to the bathroom, strip off my towel and turn the water all the way hot.
It doesn’t get boiling. The temperature is about as hot as I can withstand, but it doesn’t last long. Before I know it, the shower is lukewarm. I turn it on and off again, but I’ve found that troubleshooting plumbing the same way as electronics doesn’t have the same success rate.
The water is still barely warm.
Did James use that much hot water when he bathed me? No, I would be warm by now if he did. I turn off the shower. I’m even colder now that I’m wet.
I dry off again, shivering, and hear James come back with my clothes. He knocks on the bathroom door.
“I’ll leave your suitcase here.”
“Thanks!” I shout. I wait for James to be gone again, and then I pull my suitcase into the bathroom and look for my warmest clothes. I packed for Egypt, unfortunately. The heaviest thing I have is a thin, heather gray sweatshirt.
I pull it on along with some sweatpants and hug my arms against my chest. I’m not going to get warm in this stone bathroom.
I go out to the kitchen. James has his laptop set up and is writing on paper.
“Hey.” I jut a thumb over my shoulder. “What room am I staying in?”
“Oh.” James stands up straight. “There’s only one bed. You can have it. I don’t mind the couch.”
“Oh, that’s—”
“You look cold,” James says, interrupting me.
“Yeah. You’re sure I can’t step out onto the balcony?”
“You’re in clear sight of about two dozen different apartment complexes. I’m sorry, but no chance.”
James closes his laptop and walks up to me. He sets his hand on my cheek. “I got you cool, but I didn’t think to warm you back up.”
“It’s fine. The hot water ran out and we could be sniped from the balcony, so…”
“You’re freezing. Come on.” He doesn’t wait for me to follow. He takes me by the hand and leads me to the bedroom.
The bed is made, and he rips the king-size comforter off and wraps me in it. Half of it lays on the floor like a dress train. “Come on, snowflake. Let’s get you warm.”
He leads me to the couch and pulls me onto his lap. He rubs my shoulders to warm me up while I lean against his chest.
When I steal a glance up at him, I notice he’s not looking at me. His eyes are staring into space. There’s pain in his expression. I can’t help but think he’s doing this, treating me so well, because he feels awful.
The reality hasn’t sunk in yet, unless this numb understanding is as real as it gets. I could’ve been killed. I was an inch away from bleeding to death in an alley in Cairo, and James seems to understand this fact better than I do.
I can feel the blood race to my limbs as my pulse quickens. He cups my hands inside of his. His hands are so big that mine vanish in his fists.
We stay like this for a while. For longer than it takes for me to just be warm. A half hour. More. We watch as the sun sets, big and pink, behind the city.
“I should get to work,” James says, patting my shoulder. His tone is flat, like maybe this moment didn’t mean anything to him. Like taking care of a battered employee in a foreign country was just another chore.
“Okay,” I say as he walks off, texting on his phone.
I lean back in the cushions. I’m warm enough now that I kick the comforter off and stare out at the city. The day is too much to look back on. Work. The chase. Fainting.
James.
I didn’t realize I’d been keeping them back until they come, but as I look out the window and realize just how far from home I am, my face streaks with tears.