19. Why Are You Naked?
CHAPTER 19
WHY ARE YOU NAKED?
Archer
I leave the office early because as much as I’d like to pretend that I’m being productive, the truth is that I’m not. I can’t keep my mind off of Paloma, and what she may be doing to get away from me. The feeling is utterly irrational because she has nowhere to go. The Senator has gone down the rabbit hole of booze and gambling since she left. Or since I took her away. He’s gone off the deep end so far that I have actually considered calling off the rest of my plans.
No, I can’t do that. That bastard deserves every bit that’s coming for him. I cannot back down just because his daughter has me completely spellbound. I pinch the bridge of my nose. As soon as I close my eyes, I feel her in my arms and taste her on my tongue. Jesus, how the hell has she managed to get under my skin this much and this fast?
“We’re here, sir.” My driver meets my gaze in the rearview mirror.
“Thanks, Will.” I nod. “You made record time.”
“As requested, sir.” He smiles politely. “Also, it’s pork chops night in the kitchen.” He chuckles. “Oh sorry.”
“It’s alright. Mary Jane’s pork chops are the best. Enjoy.” I make to leave.
He climbs out of the car and rushes to open my door. “Your briefcase.” He hands it to me.
“Thanks.” I grab it and saunter inside.
My pulse picks up the pace when the door opens. “Welcome back, Mr. Archer.”
No fucking idea why I thought Paloma might want to play the dutiful wife and wait for me by the door. It’s a fantasy that played in my head most of the way here. Wasn’t that what we’ve been doing as of late, anyway…playing house?
“Thank you.” I surrender my briefcase. “I’ll change and take my drink in the study.”
“Of course. Bar is ready for you. Would you like me to prepare a special cocktail?” she asks.
“That’s actually a good idea. How about a lavender gimlet for Mrs. Archer.” I pause when she flinches for a fraction of a second. “Is something wrong?”
“Well. Mrs. Archer decided on an early dinner. She’s already retired for the night.” She swallows.
Anger pools in the pit of my stomach. My hand itches, and it’s all I can do not to run up the stairs.
She points upstairs “Should I let her know you’d?—”
“Thanks for letting me know. I can take it from here,” I cut her off.
With a horror-stricken face, she steps to the side to let me pass. I inhale to calm the fuck down and head upstairs. Last night, I was sure I made my point on where we stood with dinner. More than that, I thought that after giving her the orgasm she’s been craving she would be more amiable today. Even this morning, things between us felt easier. She seemed to understand that I’m already giving her as much as I can—more than I’ve ever given before.
I knock on her door.
No answer.
I turn the knob and push the door open. The minute I see her empty tray on her writing desk, my muscles tense. Something isn’t right. This is more than a display of defiance on her part. I stomp to her closet and slow down when I find everything in its place. Not that she would take all the clothes she has here when her father has all her actual clothes. I check the terrace to make sure she isn’t out there.
If Mary Jane knew Paloma wasn’t in her room, she would’ve said so earlier. I grip the rails and scan the grounds. And then I see it, a flashlight halfway down to the back gate. I can’t confirm that’s her. There’s only one way to find out. Whatever her reason for being out there at this hour and with this inclement weather cannot be good.
I head upstairs first to change out of my suit and put on clothes more appropriate for hiking. Mary Jane meets me at the bottom of the stairs. Or rather, she’s waiting, like she never left. What did she think I was going to do to Paloma?
“She’s not in her room,” I say.
“Oh.” She clutches her collar. “I didn’t know. I would’ve said something.”
“It’s all right. I think she’s in the gardens. I’m going there now.” I make to leave then stop. Fisher taught me to never go on a mission without a team. “Can you get William to meet me by the garden house.”
“Of course. He’s actually in the kitchen eating supper.” She gestures for me to go on.
I head for the dining room and use the service route to get to the kitchen. I don’t have time to waste using the carpeted stairs. The kitchen is a peaceful place when it’s just Paloma in there. It’s utter chaos right now with a whole crew there eating dinner at the long table to the side of the pantry,
“William.” The word is laced with desperation and angst. “I need your help.”
“Yeah. Of course.” He wipes his mouth. “I can get a third helping when I get back.” He chuckles, exchanging a look with Mary Jane.
“Bring a BB gun. We might need to go beyond the gate.” I check my watch. She’s been out there for a whole twenty minutes. Or at least, it’s been that long since I saw the flashlight in the distance. “We’re taking the golf cart.”
“Sure. I charged it this morning,” He tosses the napkin on the table and heads out through the back door.
I follow close behind him. With long strides, I reach the garden house, head straight for the golf cart closest to the garage door and hop in behind the wheel. William heads to the back and grabs an air rifle. When he joins me, he stops to look at me in confusion.
“Just get in.” I need to go fast, and I don’t have time to explain to him why.
He hops on the passenger side and holds on for dear life.
I punch it. “Look to the sides and tell me if you see a light.”
“Yes, sir.” He squints and leans forward.
I drive like an asshole who doesn’t give a shit if he lives or dies. It feels like hours, though my watch says we make it to the gate in five minutes flat. The door is wide open. Shit. Of course she went out there.
“Help.” The cry is so faint, I wonder if it’s just the wind playing tricks on me. I turn to William.
“I heard it too.” He jumps out.
I cross the threshold and head toward the clearing.
“Someone. Please help,” she says again.
“That way.” I point toward the tree line.
A million scenarios of Paloma in danger run through my head—wild animals, a man who thinks a woman alone in the woods is fair game, she breaks her ankle, she falls in an animal trap. The list goes on and on. But the one thing I don’t consider is the one I actually have to watch—Paloma in the middle of a frozen pond being swallowed whole like she’s nothing but a snack.
I glance behind me, but William is gone.
Fuck it. I can’t stand here and do nothing.
Scanning the surface, I look for a way to get to her. I trail a wide circle until I find solid ice. She wasn’t far from the edge, maybe ten feet. If she had been looking for it, she would’ve seen she was walking onto a frozen pond.
“Mr. Archer.” William shows up with picks. “Just in case.”
I nod, and he tosses the poles my way.
I drop to my belly. When I have a good grip on the ice, and William grabs my ankles, I sink half my body into the sink hole to look for her. Her floating hand is all I see through squinting eyes. I reach for it and hold on to it like my life depends on it because it does.
Once her head breaks the surface, I wrap my one arm around her waist and hoist her up. “Pull me back,” I call for William.
He does. I bring her with me, but she’s unconscious, either from the cold or because she swallowed too much water. I do the math in my head. She wasn’t under water that long. She’s fine. She has to be fine. I take off my parka and lay it on the ground before I perform CPR. I count the compressions and then breathe for her.
“Come on, wife. You can’t give up on me,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Try again,” William says a good fifty feet away from me with his rifle at the ready.
I count again and give her air. Her eyes fly open as she splatters water all over her. I turn her on her side and brush hair away from her face. “You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.”
“Mr. Archer,” William calls.
I turn around in time to see a fucking wolf. I know this is their land. But this isn’t the fucking time.
“Nice and easy, William.” I slowly reach for Paloma and bring her to my side. “Can you walk?” I ask.
“My knee.” She winces.
I scoop her into my arms and flank William on the right as the animal prowls to the left. Good, he wants us out of here. No problem.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here.” I step back toward the ground with Paloma in my arms.
William follows suit with his weapon at the ready.
“Fuck.” He yelps as ice cracks beneath him, and he falls over.
I’m there to keep him from falling in, but the wolf doesn’t like the sudden change. It charges at me, barring its teeth. I set Paloma behind me and advance toward it to shield her. As soon as he’s within range, I punch him square on the snout. It drops and rolls to the side but then comes toward me again.
When I look over, William has his rifle trained on him.
“Don’t shoot it,” I yell at him, slapping the barrel sideways.
It’s a fucking idiotic thing to do. The gun goes off and somehow misses my face. The wolf whines and finally decides to retreat. I don’t have time to think about what almost happened. I scoop Paloma into my arms again and rush back to the golf cart.
William jumps in the driver seat while I buckle Paloma in the rear-facing seat. I climb in next to her and hold her tight. “Drive,” I yell over my shoulder.
“Yes sir.”
A million questions avalanche through my mind. But Paloma is too weak and too cold to put a sentence together, let alone explain what the fuck she was doing beyond the gates. William gets us to the kitchen door in minutes.
“Mr. Archer,” he begins.
“You did what you had to do. Don’t think on it again. The beast will be fine. You didn’t hit it.” I cradle Paloma in my arms. “Tell Mary Jane we’ll need extra blankets and some tea or whatever.”
“Yeah, I got it.”
I rush inside, leaving a trail of slushy ice. With Paloma shivering in my arms, I take the stairs to the third floor. I lay her down on the area rug, looking for signs of hypothermia. She wasn’t in the water long. She has to be alright. I can’t lose her. Mary Jane comes in with blankets and a tea kettle to plug in next to the bed.
“Help me with her clothes,” I say.
Paloma is awake but not very responsive. Between the two of us, we have her in her underwear and bra in two minutes.
“I can take it from here.” I take off my many layers.
“I’ll just be outside.” She leaves, closing the door behind her.
I strip all the way down, and then do the same for Paloma. After I place her under the blankets in my bed, I climb in with her.
“You’re okay.” I kiss the top of her head. “It’s over.”
“Hmm.” She stirs next to me. “Why are you naked?” she says weakly.
“Everyone knows this is the fastest way to keep someone warm.” I run my hand down to her lower back.
She laughs. “Are you trying to resuscitate me or give me a heart attack?”
“Definitely resuscitate.” I’m not ready to laugh about this. “Why were you out there? This isn’t your first winter. Surely you know when it’s safe to walk on a frozen pond.”
“I got spooked by a wild animal. I ran. By the time, I realized where I was, it was too late. The ground just gave out from under me.” She buries her face in my chest. “How did you find me?”
“By some miracle.” I press my lips to her head. “Keep talking.” I sit up and reach for the tea kettle by my nightstand. I pour tea in a cup and offer it to her. “Drink. It’ll help.”
“I think the ‘keep talking advice’ is for when you have a concussion.” She scoots up and takes the cup from me. “Thank you.” She blinks and tears roll down her cheek.
“I’m not willing to take a chance. Hey, don’t cry.” I wipe her cheek. “You’re okay.”
“Don’t be mad.” She sips, looking at me with big doe eyes. Who can resist that?
“I’m not mad at you.” I point to myself. “See? I’m absolutely calm.”
“I don’t mean that.” She presses her cold cheek to the mug. “I went out there to meet Hunter.”
Her body is freezing next to mine, but in an instant, heat infuses the mattress. She feels it too because she squirms away from me.
“Let me explain.” She winces.
“Yes, you will explain, but first, what happened to your knee?” I ask.
“Nothing really. I rammed it on the edge when I fell through the ice.” She scoffs. “You’d think being in icy water would count as icing it.”
“We’ll take a look at it in the morning. For now, increasing your temperature is our main concern.” I don’t mean to sound so militant. But having a plan to make her better is the only way she survives. “Why did you put yourself in danger tonight?” I take her empty cup and set it on the nightstand. When she doesn’t move, I reach for her waist and bring her closer to me. I can’t stand being away from her. I need to feel her beating heart next to mine. “Why were you meeting Hunter?”
“I wanted to see Dad.” She pauses. “He said Dad is not doing well. I got so worried. I didn’t think. It was stupid.”
“None of this would’ve happened if you had waited for me.” I grit my teeth.
“None of this would’ve happened if you had let me go to him when I asked you to in the first place,” she fires back.
“Be grateful your ass is in no condition for taking another spanking.” I hold her tight. “Go to sleep.”
“Here?” She looks up at me in confusion. “In your bedroom?”
“Yes. Here.” I flex my jaw. “From now on, I want my wife to sleep in my bed.”
“You’re not mad?” Her eyes flutter closed.
“I am. But not at you.” And that’s the fucking truth.
Only a fool marries a woman, thinking he can keep her and his heart.
Hours later, her skin feels cool next to mine, but I know that’s normal. I run hotter than most people. I’ve watched her sleep so many nights. But this feels different because she knows I’m here. I’m not a dream or a shadow in her room. I refuse to be that man for her anymore. I want to be her husband. I still don’t know if I can be. But after tonight, I’ll be the biggest bastard if I don’t try.
“My ballet shoes,” she pouts. “They got dirty.”
“Shh.” I cup her face. “It’s just a dream,” I whisper on her temple.
This isn’t the first time she dreams about dirty ballet shoes. I find it odd that she dreams about that because from what I can tell ballet shoes are the most disposable items performers own. They go through them like nothing.
When she settles down, I slip out of bed to check on my wound. Earlier I saw the blood stain on the sheets. Now that the worst is over, the sting on my shoulder is getting uncomfortable. I pad to the bathroom and run the shower. Turning my back to the mirror, I examine the wound. The beast came at me with his teeth, but I managed to side-step it when I punched it on the snout. I’m ninety-five percent sure this slash came from his claw. Hopefully, I won’t need a rabies shot.
I grab the rubbing alcohol off the medicine cabinet and drench the area. “Fuck.” I lean on the counter, gripping the edge. I do it again to make sure the wound is clean, then wrap it in bandages. It’s a shoddy job, but it’s all I can manage for tonight. One problem at a time. For now, I have to find out for certain what Paloma and Hunter had planned.
I take a quick shower, then head back to the room. Paloma is not going anywhere tonight. But I still have this need to keep an eye on her. I stop at the foot of the four-poster bed, towel-drying my hair. She looks good in my room—our room.
Now that the pink has returned to her cheeks, I can focus on what I need to do next…Hunter. I rummage through my wet clothes on the floor until I find my phone. Months ago, Gardenia hacked into Paloma’s phone and paired it with mine. Every text, every email, or social media posting that goes through her phone shows up on mine.
I open the snooping app and click on her message app. Sure enough. Hunter and her texted today. And that can only mean one thing. Paloma searched through my desk and found her goddam phone. And not only that, she texted Hunter. Of all the fucking people in the world, she texted Hunter, the ex-boyfriend.
My stomach rolls as I read their exchange. I make a mental note, and it’s really an IOU, of every single insult he dishes her simply because he feels entitled to her time and her body. He calls her my whore in one breath and then tells her he misses her in the next. When I see him again, I will make sure he can never smell anything ever again, especially not my wife.
I grip my phone tight and bring it to my forehead. “Why did she text him?”
Slowly, a smirk pulls on my lips. The asshole is probably still waiting for her. They were supposed to meet at the Senator’s old mansion, but she never showed. Instead, she’s here with me. I almost lost her tonight. If she hadn’t fallen through the ice, she would’ve left with him.
There’s one thing that still doesn’t add up. Was Hunter really planning to take Paloma to her father? I never pegged him for the heroic sort. Or is the Senator trying to get her to come to him? He can’t very well come for her, his credit would suffer. But if she leaves on her own accord, the Senator can claim he had nothing to do with it. Of course, she would have to crawl over my dead body first.
“Daddy, my shoes,” she mumbles in her sleep.
“Shhh.” I amble to the bed and climb in next to her.
Before, my feelings for her were contradictory at best. I want her. Of course, I fucking want her. I’ve wanted her since the second I met her. But a quick fuck and marriage are two different things. Though I must admit, the lines are so blurry at this point. I can’t tell which of the parts that long for her are lust and which ones are love.
Whatever the case, Paloma is mine. She’s finally free of whatever cage the Senator had her in. She’s not going back to him.
Slowly, I pull back the covers and inspect every inch of her. She has bruises on her shoulder and her legs. All obvious signs of the trauma she suffered. But the scratches on her wrist are something else. The last time I saw these marks on her was right before opening night. When I asked her about it, she shrugged it off.
She’s doing this to herself. Shaking my head, I pull her into my chest and hold her tight.
“I won’t let them hurt you anymore, Little Dove. You’re safe with me.”
“I want to stay with you,” she says.
“Are you sure?” I looked down to meet her gaze. “Even if I refuse to share you with the world?”
“Yes.” She smiles, those golden eyes looking at me like I hung the moon, so full of trust and something else I’m not ready to recognize.
Once, she asked me to save her. And I haven’t stopped thinking about her words because I want to be that man for her. I want to be the one who keeps her safe.
“Why?” I ask.
“It doesn’t hurt to be with you.”