Chapter Thirty-Two
Steele
I didn’t know how many times I moved in and out of consciousness. Bits and pieces flashed before my eyes, as if I was watching a movie that would fast-forward and then pause. But no matter what state I was in, I saw Ashlynn. Sometimes she kissed my forehead, other times she held my hand. Once, I swore she whispered apologetic words in my ear as she pushed my hair back from my forehead. The dreams mixed with reality, but I knew one thing for certain.
Ashlynn had come for me.
I hadn’t figured out how she’d managed it, but she’d saved me.
And, even in my broken state, with my body mangled and my head fuzzy, I wondered if it meant that she loved me.
When I finally woke up, I opened my eyes slowly. I was in my bed, at my estate in France, and my entire bedroom smelled of Ashlynn. Her very scent was infused into my bedding, and I moved my head, looking at the spot she normally claimed when we slept together. It was empty, but the sheets were pulled back and a copy of War and Peace rested on the nightstand. That could mean only one thing.
She’d been in my bed with me. While my mind and body had been knitting itself back together, my woman was there beside me, watching me and taking care of me.
I loved her even more.
I tried to sit up, but everything was painful and I felt terribly weak. The pain seared through my entire body and left me breathless. Topher had done a number on me. I could tell exactly when he’d started to suspect that Ashlynn had slept with me of her own free will. At that point, his beatings took on an untamed, wild quality.
Despite the circumstances, his daughter wanted me. And I wanted her.
Desperately.
I stopped struggling to sit up when I heard her quiet footsteps.
“You’re awake!”
I smiled at her excitement. “I am. I’m alive, thanks to you.”
Her eyes immediately looked at the ground, and the happiness she exuded from seeing me awake instantly vanished.
“What is it?” I asked, laying back against the pillow.
She stood in front of the bed, wringing her hands nervously.
“Love, tell me what’s wrong. Now.” My voice was a bit scratchy, but my tone was still authoritative.
“Steele—”
“Spit it out.”
“I knew my father was coming for me.” The words poured out of her mouth, tumbling like a leaf in the autumn wind.
I scratched my head, still a bit out of it from my concussion. “I know you hoped he would, but—”
“No.” She looked at her bare feet, and my eyes followed. She was wearing the cow pajamas that I loathed. “He managed to get word to me, and I knew he was going to rescue me.”
The blow hit me hard. All this time, I’d really thought that she loved me. And all this time, she’d been plotting against me.
“When?” I asked sternly. “How long?”
“Only a day or two…”
“So when I told you I loved you, you were still planning on betraying me? On letting me go to my grave?”
Her cheeks turned pink. “No, it’s not like that—”
“Then what was it like, love? You used me for sex and then planned to let your father finish me off?”
I was deeply hurt. I loved this woman, and I’d given her more of myself than I ever thought possible. I’d shared my secrets, told her the most intimate details of my life. And instead, she’d just been biding time until her asshole father showed up to kill me.
“Steele, I admit, I have feelings for you—”
“Do you love me?” I asked harshly. If she did, nothing else mattered. I’d put it in the past.
“It’s complicated…”
“It’s not, Ashlynn. Do. You. Love. Me?” I gritted my teeth together, my head starting to throb.
“I care about you—”
“That’s not what I asked!”
“Look, I’m trying to figure it out. Give me time, I need to—”
“I love you, damn it! I would do anything for you, Ashlynn—anything. I’d carve out my own heart and serve it to you on a platter. I’d swim in a sea of acid, crawl out of my own fucking grave for one last kiss. You figure your feelings out, but until then, stop tormenting me and get out.”