Chapter Thirty-Four
Nathan
ANGEL: Can we reschedule our meeting to tomorrow?
I read Arya’s message twice while waiting for her at Golden Elm. She was supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago. My hand involuntarily tightens around the phone.
Is she avoiding me?
Tit for tat for not calling her the next day after she left my place? I admit it was a dick move abandoning her to drink booze on the balcony. But I didn’t think she’d leave without saying goodbye like a thief in the night.
What would you have done instead? Hugged and kissed her at the door? Walked her to her car? Told her to drive safe and call once she made it home?
All the gestures her man would do, which I am not.
The fact I even came up with such lovesick options is troubling, let alone crave the chance to do them. The realization she’s sunk her claws deeper than I thought doesn’t curb the pulsing need to see and listen to her husky voice right now.
It’s been seven days since we met. I can’t seem to stop counting down the days. Another stupid habit I’ve formed.
Glancing at her message, as if that’ll conjure her up before me, I ponder the reason why she canceled our meeting. It’s very unlike her, especially on such short notice.
Did another client show up and steal my time reserved with her? Irrational jealousy colors my vision.
I dial her number to demand an explanation and that she come see me. I’m not above lying and saying I have an emergency. I’m prepared to do just that when she picks up on the fourth ring.
“H-hello,” she utters, low and hoarse.
Something’s wrong. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” she answers too quickly, still whispering. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Ari,” I sharply reply.
“I’m sick, okay? I’ve got a cold and cough,” she answers.
Except her tone isn’t deep and rough like when you have a cold. Instead of calling her out on it, I play along, “Have you taken the day off to rest?”
“Yeah, I’m at home.”
“Good.” I’m driving there.
“I’m gonna go now.” A hitch in her lackluster voice. It escalates my worry. “I’m sorry for canceling.”
“It’s fine.” I push up from the chair, my appetite lost, and head for the exit to the parking lot. “Take care.”
“Bye, Nathan.”
I hang up and pocket my phone. Once I reach my Maserati, I slide behind the wheel and start the engine. My mind imagines the worst-case scenarios as I drive like the hounds of hell are chasing after me.
Why didn’t she tell me the truth? Does she not trust me?
“The motherfucking rules,” I snap at myself.
I came up with them. She’s only sticking to them. So why are they feeling like a noose around my neck?
An hour later, I’m parking outside her building and stepping out. The doorman mutters a good afternoon, letting me inside. My foot taps nonstop on the floor of the elevator as it climbs to her floor. When the door opens enough for me to slip outside, I get out and pause outside her door.
I ring the doorbell and wait.
Nobody answers.
Is she even home or did she lie?
I stab the doorbell thrice in a row.
Long tense beats pass before I finally hear soft footfalls on the other side. She takes ages to come, not helping the dread gripping my lungs.
The door creaks open to reveal Arya clad in a pink fluffy robe and matching slippers with bunnies on them. Her hair wet like she came straight from the shower. Hence, the delay in answering the door.
I gulp in my first relieved breath.
The peace is short-lived after one look at her face. Her lively eyes are haunted and red-rimmed, her nose a dark pink, and her cheeks are ashen.
She’s been crying.
Who would dare to make her cry? They’ve just signed their death warrant.
Her jaw goes slack upon seeing me. She stumbles back, giving me enough room to enter and shut the door behind me.
The banging noise jerks her out of the stupor. “N-Nathan, what are you doing here? I told you I am—”
“The name.”
“What?” she sputters.
“The name of the person who made you cry, Ari,” I repeat. “Don’t bullshit me that you’re sick.”
Her hand flies to her right cheek, checking for lingering tears and giving away the confirmation. And that’s when I notice her palm. They’re a dark pink like from when someone scrubs for too long.
Fury boils in my veins at whoever caused her to do this.
“I’m fine. Just feeling under the weather.”
“You’re not fine.” I capture her wrist and turn it over so we’re both staring at her hand. “Explain.”
“I accidentally touched my hair straightener while it was hot,” she blatantly lies, avoiding my gaze. Freeing her wrist, she says in a small voice, “You shouldn’t have wasted your time coming here. Go back to your office.”
My attention catches on her arm, where the robe’s sleeve has risen. The state of her forearm is the same as her palm, along with scratches.
Was she hurting herself in the shower? Something tells me it’s not just her arms. When she shifts on her feet and tightens the collar, my stomach twists.
I reach for her robe.
She swats my hand away. “I’m not in the mood for sex, Nathan.”
“I’m not here to fuck.” Does she think of me that low? That I would try to sleep with her while she’s vulnerable and sad.
You haven’t exactly given her any other impression.
My concern for her state overriding my anger at myself, I step closer and cup her face with both hands. Forcing her gaze on mine, I gently but firmly ask, “I know something bad happened that you’re not sharing, angel. Please talk to me. I’m not leaving until you do.”
Tears well up in her eyes as she stares back unblinking at me. My heart cracks at the fearful shadows playing in them.
I stroke my thumb below her eye, where a single teardrop escapes, and I whisper, “Ari.”
The brave act she was putting on splinters. In a broken voice, she confesses, “Some guy molested me on the bus while I was on my way to meet you.”
My muscles go rigid as I absorb her words. Rage like I’ve never felt before blinds my sight. “Where did he touch you?” I grit out.
Her eyelids squeeze shut as she shudders. “My breasts. The bus was packed and we were jostling. So, at first, I thought it was an accident. But then I felt his hand… squeeze and pi… pinch my…” She trails off, sniffling.
“Shhh…” I console, suppressing the need to go and hunt down the man. I pull her into my arms. “It’s okay. You’re safe now.”
She crumples, burying her head against my chest as loud sobs rack her slim body. I rub soothing circles on her back and kiss the top of her head. If I had a time machine, I would turn it back and stop her from getting on that bus.
I ache to take away her pain.
When her shivers don’t stop, I pick her up and wrap her legs around my waist. Carrying her inside, I walk past her living room and easily find her bedroom in the back hallway at the very end.
Her bed is perfectly made, while steam blows through the ajar door of the adjoined bathroom. Pihu, who’s perched on the sofa in the corner, lifts her head from her paws upon seeing me. Jumping down, she trots to my feet.
As if she knows I need to take care of her momma, she doesn’t climb up my leg and simply sits back on her back legs.
I sit down on the bed with Arya on my lap, turning her sideways. She clings to me, fisting the lapels of my suit jacket. Cupping and caressing the back of her neck, I press my lips against her temple.
“I’m so sorry you had to go through this, angel,” I murmur. “I’m here now. No one’s touching you.”
“I've heard stories from other women, but I’ve never experienced it… until today. I always thought I’d shout or attack if a man tried to touch me inappropriately, but I stood there frozen and mute.
I couldn’t comprehend what occurred in front of so many people.
I don’t think anyone saw. He got off the bus so casually and turned to look at me head-on.
The… the satisfied look on his face knowing he got away, I can’t get it out of my mind. ”
The bastard isn’t getting away with it. He’s going to wish he never looked at her, much less touched, by the time I’m done breaking every single bone in his body.
“Every time I close my eyes, I can feel his ugly hands on me.” Arya hiccups, jolting from the bad memories. “I’ve been showering since I came home and I still feel dirty and disgusting.”
“Hey.” I tilt her head back. “Look at me.”
Glassy and torn brown eyes blink up at me.
“He’s not here, I am.” Intertwining my fingers with her cold ones, I squeeze tightly and rub along her knuckles with my thumb. “Feel my touch. Listen to my voice. Can you do that for me?”
She takes a deep breath and nods.
I raise her hand to my lips and kiss it. “You’re not dirty. Don’t let him make you feel this way. It shouldn’t have happened and it isn’t your fault.”
“I wish men like him didn’t exist.”
“I agree.” Too sad we live in a world where good and bad are two sides of the same coin. One cannot exist without the other. “Know this, angel, no man will ever hurt or take advantage of you again.”
She inhales sharply at the fierceness in my voice. “Sounds like a promise.”
“It is.”
“I’m always a damsel in distress around you,” she whispers, her lips tilting up slightly.
“You can be whoever you want to be around me.” Tracing her pulse on her wrist, I say, “For the record, I’ve never seen you as a damsel.”
“No?”
I shake my head. “Damsels are weak. You are anything but.”
“What am I then?”
“You’re shy and sweet, smart and a force to be reckoned with as a publicist, funny and so sassy when you’re mad. Most of all, you’re strong enough to get through today.”
Her throat bobs, expression becoming emotional. “You think so?”
“I know so, Ari.”
“I wish I hadn’t let the guy get away.”
“You went into shock. Don’t blame yourself. Everyone reacts differently.” Curiosity nagging at me, I ask, “Why did you take the bus? You have a car.”
“It broke down. The bus station was nearby and I was running late. The cab would’ve taken longer. I didn’t think it was a big deal. I used to take the bus all the time when I was in college.”
“Why didn’t you call me to come pick you up? Or tell me you’ll be late.”
“I was worried you might postpone and I was excited to see you.” She stills as soon as her admission is out. My grip on her thigh tightens. An embarrassing hue hitting her face, she nervously babbles, “Sorry, not excited like we’re dating or anything… I meant you’re an important client and I…”
“Ari.”
She doesn’t even pause to breathe. “I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t taking your case seriously in case you had urgent information to share. I know you’re a busy person and I value yo—”
I shut her up with a kiss.
Inching back, I speak against her trembling lips. “I was excited to meet you too… because you’re my favorite publicist to work with.”
“Oh.”
Turning serious, I sternly say, “Next time, don’t hide from me when you’re hurting.”
“I was respecting your wishes,” she replies. “You were adamant about not wanting to be a shoulder to lean on.”
“An error on my part.”
“So will you…” Her gaze drops to my chest as she utters, “Stay with me?”
My chest tightens because it feels like she means more than just today. Except, today is all I have to give her. Resting my forehead against hers, I answer, “Not only am I going to stay, but I’ll also take care of you.”
A full-blown smile etches on her round face. Stealing another soft kiss, I lift her off my lap and place her beside me.
“Let me see you.” I grab the tie keeping her robe together.
Before I can unknot it, she cups my wrists. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to.” Untying the sash, I part her robe. She has scrubbed her skin raw until it’s pink and red everywhere I look. I clench my teeth to hide the wave of fury washing over me. “Angel, how long were you in the shower?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where’s your dresser?” I ask, standing up.
“In the closet.”
“Wait here.” I walk into her closet to my right.
The cupboards are done in rose gold with built-in lights.
Her dresser is up against the wall at the end.
Sauntering toward it, I grab her jasmine-scented moisturizer.
Searching the other shelves, I pick a pink sweatshirt and black leggings.
Next, I open drawers and pick her a matching set of undergarments.
I try not to react when I stare at her collection of sexy lace and silk sets, along with garter belts. Did she buy them after we hooked up or for her stupid ex? I swear I’m tempted to take his eyes out if he has seen her dressed in these.
Her head twists my way when I reenter the room. Gaze roaming over the items I’m holding, her cheeks heat.
Approaching her, I ask, “Do you want me to choose something else?”
“No.” Her voice comes out throaty. “This is okay.”
Putting her clothes on the mattress, I shrug off my jacket and roll my sleeves. Her mesmerized eyes are locked on my forearms when I command, “Stand up for me, angel.”
“I can dress myself, Nathan,” she utters, yet rises anyway.
She can, but her body language screams she doesn’t want to. Not that I’d let her if it were the opposite. I also secretly want to erase the touch of the other man.
I step closer. “I am doing it.”
Then I remove her robe, letting it puddle on the floor.