Chapter 4
Chapter
Four
ROSE
I craned my neck to listen to their conversation. Their argument was inaudible, but Dr. Maxwell’s harsh assertions told me he was winning.
I lay on the comforter, aware that my dirty feet were ruining the lavish covers. They felt soft, unlike any luxury I had known. Until today, I didn’t even know what it was like to be warm. Who knew heat felt so good?
Tears sprang to my eyes. How many times had I hoped someone would douse me with this type of kindness or look at me the way he did? It was the first dose of compassion I had experienced, and I was beyond grateful to him for restoring my faith in mankind.
Abiding by his instructions was a no-brainer, and I dutifully waited for the nurse. I melted against the soft mattress while awaiting her return. The elegant scents and the silky linens called to me, and I shut my eyes.
“Rose?”
My eyes fluttered to make out a figure. It was the nurse, Amelie. I didn’t remember introducing myself to her. Dr. Maxwell must have given her my name.
She sat on the bed, poring over me with concern. “Don’t fall asleep until I can rule out a concussion.”
For a moment, I was struck by her beauty. Rich golden-bronze skin and soft pink cheeks. Not a single visible pore on her face, which was framed by charcoal hair. Her deep brown eyes were striking. Even the shapeless blue scrubs couldn’t camouflage her perfect hourglass figure.
“You’re beautiful,” I said stupidly before I could think better of it.
Her stunning eyes rounded as if I had grown three heads. Dr. Maxwell had reacted the same way when I spoke for the first time.
She shook it off and shone a penlight into my eyes. I squinted but tried my best to follow her instructions. It was a while before she retracted the light and showed me to the bathroom.
The bathroom boasted a luxurious marble countertop and golden faucets with a fancy bathtub in the middle.
I relieved myself, then hobbled to the sink, taking full advantage of the mini mouthwash bottle.
Sitting at the edge of the tub as it filled, I dipped my feet inside to relieve the ache in my ankle.
It was hard to rinse off from this position, and I couldn’t find soap or a loofah.
Still, running hot water was a commodity, and cleaning my privates was a godsend.
Amelie eventually knocked on the door, insisting I return to the room to continue the tests. She held small prints from an arm’s length, moved them closer, and asked me to read out loud. She froze every time I looked her in the eye and gave her an answer.
Initially, I considered there might be something wrong with my voice.
Soon, I realized she was awed that I met her gaze at all whenever I spoke.
She was even more shocked when I didn’t react after she absentmindedly touched my ankle to examine it.
She had immediately retracted her hand, almost as if she had crossed some serious personal boundaries.
I internally shrugged. Perhaps she had expected me to be a meek thing that couldn’t make eye contact while speaking or too timid to be touched.
Amelie scribbled notes, ultimately declaring, “I think we can rule out concussion, but Dr. Maxwell will want to confirm for himself.”
“When is he coming back?” I asked like a loyal puppy. Could you blame me? If someone fed a stray dog and showered it with love, it would wag its tail at the thought of its new owner.
“Soon.” She hesitated before busying herself with a tray full of supplies. “H-he mentioned you’re suffering from some memory loss.” She studied me skeptically.
I nodded, dissolving into the mattress. There was no point in convincing her I was telling the truth. Amnesia was a telenovela plot, even I retained that much recollection. Any normal human being would think I was making it up.
I closed my eyes. After all, she said I could sleep if I didn’t have a concussion. I hissed when something unpleasant grazed my cheek. Amelie tsked when I moved away from the burning sensation.
“These will get infected if I don’t treat them with antiseptic,” she insisted, chasing my face with a cotton ball. “Dr. Maxwell scheduled for vaccine vials to be dropped off before we set sail. You’ll be out of the danger zone after a tetanus shot.”
I didn’t know what a tetanus shot was, but it sounded unpleasant. Something else she said niggled at my mind.
Before we set sail.
But I couldn’t leave on this boat. The plan was to regain my strength and find my way home. My family probably lived in New York. Sailing away meant I was going in the wrong direction. “I can’t leave,” I mumbled. “Can you let me know before the boat sets sail?”
She ignored the request. “Let’s get these cleaned up,” she said, lifting my arm to inspect the wounds. “How about I grab some toiletries and run you a warm bath? You can go back to sleep once I’m done.”
A bath sounded amazing, but I couldn’t fathom lifting my body off this soft bed. “I’m so tired,” I said apologetically, feeling like a diva for making her job difficult.
She smiled kindly at me. “It’s okay, Rose. You’ve gone through a lot.” She headed to the door, then paused to speak over her shoulder. “It was good to see you again.”
What?
Despite my best attempts, I couldn’t muster the energy to ask her what she meant. The plush pillows called to me, and I drifted to a slumber.
When I opened my eyes next, the room was dark, illuminated by the dim moonlight streaming through the windows.
A hazy figure had taken Amelie’s spot, and I knew instantly it was him.
The air smelled like the outdoors and cashmere with a hint of amber.
If the unique cologne didn’t set him apart, his physique did the job.
He was the largest man I had met—both in height and bulk.
Even through the mist, his shadow was unmistakable.
I glanced at the nightstand to find a basin filled with water.
Steam rose from it as if it were boiling.
His signature smell, mixed with the foggy haze, was too much to handle.
The heady stuff could put a person in a coma.
Once my eyes adapted, I watched him in the moonlight, which cast a warm golden glow on his features, especially his chiseled torso. He was shirtless.
Holy shit.
He held a sponge in his hand, his muscular arms glistening with water droplets. It made him appear rough, like a brute working man rather than an educated doctor.
Dumbfounded, I stared at his bare chest. I had no idea why he took his shirt off. Didn’t even think to ask. I savored as much of the visual as the dimly lit room allowed, tracking the hard ridges of his abs, dazing over the way they dented inward.
My breath quickened when he caught me ogling. If he wondered whether I had seen a half-naked man before, the answer was written right there in my stupefied face. Perhaps I saw one before losing my memories, but I couldn’t recall.
He didn’t comment on the gawking and remained entirely expressionless.
He merely dipped the sponge in the bowl, slowly wringing it out before placing it on my collarbone.
I expected it to be boiling and was pleasantly surprised by the lukewarm water.
The slight pressure of his calloused fingers caressed my skin, soothing it.
The water trickled down my collarbone, disappearing between my breasts.
I frowned.
Slowly, I lifted my head to glance down. My filthy hospital gown was gone. I was naked under a soft white sheet. The sheet was pulled down to expose most of my chest except my nipples, and it was hiked so far up he could see my vagina if he stood by my feet.
“What the?—”
“Sponge bath,” he cut me off mid-panic.
Was that why he was shirtless? He didn’t want the water ruining his posh clothes. God, I hoped Nurse Amelie undressed me instead of the doctor.
Noticing my mortified expression, he added, “I can’t dress your wounds without cleaning them properly.”
His tone was clinical, and the logic was there, but my panic was real.
I didn’t know what sex entailed—and by God, had I tried to remember—I only knew it was an intimate exchange, something akin to my current predicament.
I had overheard many crude things while living on the streets; numerous references, such as pussy and cock to suggest one’s privates, and fucking when referring to sex.
Although I hadn’t received a demonstration of sex yet, I was suddenly extremely aware of his closeness.
I swallowed. “You don’t have to do that. I can take a shower.”
“You’re exhausted, and you can’t stand on your bad ankle long enough for a shower.
” He lifted my arm to glide the sponge on the underside.
Although he held up my arm like a drumstick, going along with it robotically required excruciating effort.
There was no denying that I wouldn’t last in a shower stall. Still, this was too embarrassing.
“There’s a tub in the bathroom,” I pointed out.
He dropped the sponge in the basin. “Okay, I’ll give you a bath if you’re up for it. It’ll be good for your ankle.”
I immediately warded him off with two resisting hands. “Oh. No, thank you. I meant, I could take a bath. By myself. Alone. I bathe alone. I can bathe myself,” I rambled.
With a head shake, he reclaimed his previous seat. “You are too weak. You might fall asleep and drown if I leave you in hot water.”
With hands that might’ve been slightly trembling, I reached for the sponge. “Then let me finish up.”
He paused without letting go of the sponge. “No,” was his curt reply before he moved the sponge to my arm, breaking my hold on it as if I were a pesky fly.
It suddenly dawned on me that I knew nothing about this doctor. What if he stole organs from homeless girls like me to sell on the black market? Whenever someone went missing on the streets, it was believed they had been trafficked.