Chapter 8 Nova
NOVA
“Help me.”
I woke with a gasp, my heart in my throat, fear freezing my body, lying on my back, staring at the ceiling. What ceiling? The fear that had already leaked into my muscles now turned my stomach. I couldn’t breathe. I was going to be sick. Did someone scream? Was that what woke me?
“Nova? Nova, what’s wrong?” I barely registered the deep male voice and the concern it carried before the door opened, allowing light to flood into the room from the hall.
A large man stood there, nothing but a dark shape looming ominously, almost filling the doorway.
The sudden surprise and the confusion behind it were enough to unlock my body, making me sit up, searching the dimly lit room for a weapon.
It wasn’t until he stepped into the room that I could see him clearly. “You yelled something,” he said, standing at the foot of the bed, his face a mask of concern.
Vaughn. It was only Vaughn. I was in Vaughn’s guest room, sitting in Vaughn’s bed. I was safe here. It was just a dream.
A dream drawn straight from reality. And who was I kidding, pretending I was safe? I wouldn’t be here in the first place if I were safe. Safety was an illusion.
It was practically Sunday morning all over again, complete with me drawing the blankets up over my chest. I had taken off my dress and slept in my bra and panties.
He was dressed in a T-shirt and loose shorts like he was in the middle of a workout I had disturbed.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell,” I offered.
“Of course you didn’t. You were asleep. You’ve been asleep for almost eight hours.”
“What?” My blurted question bounced off the walls. Eight hours? “I’m so embarrassed. I didn’t mean to sleep that long.”
“You don’t have to apologize.” Folding his arms, he studied me with obvious concern, his features contorting while his narrowed eyes stared holes into me. “Did you have a nightmare?”
“No. I tend to yell when I’m having a great dream.” I regretted the sarcasm as soon as the words were out of my mouth before he could scowl. “I’m sorry. I really am. I don’t know why I’m being so bitchy.”
He drew, then released a deep breath before lifting a shoulder. A shoulder I had explored earlier. Terrific. Now I would never get the feel of his body out of my head. It was bad enough when all I could do was imagine. I had actual, tangible memories to draw from now.
“You’ve clearly been through a lot. Can I fix you something to eat? There’s plenty in the fridge and freezer.”
Right, his cook prepared things for him. “It’s okay. Can I ask another favor instead?”
“Maybe…” But there was a touch of humor in that single word, enough to loosen me up a little. A good sign.
“Can you sit here for a minute? I know it sounds childish,” I added.
Whether or not he agreed, I didn’t know.
It was enough for him to oblige, taking a seat on the corner of the bed while I folded my legs in front of me, still covering myself.
Talk about awkward. We had come within moments of consummating our marriage, and now we had to pretend it never happened if there was any hope of looking at each other. At least, that was how I felt.
“So I guess you’re single,” I murmured. Why the hell did I say that? When his brows shot up, I scrambled to explain myself. “I mean, you never mentioned a girlfriend. Wouldn’t she be pissed if she found out you had a wife?”
“Oh.” Some of the surprise leaked away, smoothing out his forehead. “Right. I’ve never been the type to settle down.”
What a surprise. It tracked well with everything else I had already observed about him. For starters, that flirtatious charm he had poured over me at the reception. It was nice to know he wasn’t cheating on his significant other when he was hitting on me.
“What about you?” he asked. “Anybody longing for you over in Jolly old England?”
The question made me snort before I shook my head. “No, nobody is threatening to jump off the Tower Bridge because I left the country.”
I settled in, feeling more relaxed now that the nightmare was further behind me with every passing second.
“When I left for Oxford, your father owned the casino. I understand he passed away. I’m sorry for your loss.
” Because I had obviously looked into it while researching human trafficking articles.
I found a few articles devoted to Lawrence Eastman’s untimely passing, all of which described his only child as the heir to the Eastman family fortune.
It was the funniest thing. At first, I was almost sure he thought I was joking the way his head cocked back and the narrowing of his eyes told me so. “Thank you,” he eventually replied. “It was sudden.”
“I remember him always being so gregarious and energetic.” Those were much kinder words than Dad had ever used to describe her father, but they’d always been low-key rivals. Civil in public, even friendly when the situation called for it, but they’d eyed each other warily for the most part.
“Gregarious?” He grinned, melting the rest of the tension lingering in the room. “I’ve heard a lot of words used to describe him, but never that one. It does fit, though.”
Before I had time to so much as blink, he added, “Yes, I know what it means. Not all of us went to Oxford, but I do have a vocabulary.”
“Do you hold my education against me?”
“Of course not. You’re the one who brought it up after we… you know.” He then hummed a little bit of the “Wedding March,” and even the fact that he was slightly off-key came off as charming. I had slept too much. My head was foggy. That had to be it.
“I probably came off pretty arrogant and insufferable, but so did you,” I added before he had a chance to agree with me.
Rather than argue, he changed topics. “Did you mean it when you said you didn’t marry me to save yourself?”
His question made my mouth fall open, not to mention the way he blurted it out. Like it had been on his mind. Had he spent the past eight hours questioning what I said? I almost felt sorry for him when I imagined it. “Listen. I still don’t remember much of what happened that night, you know?”
Those startlingly clear green eyes narrowed. “That’s not an answer.”
“My point is, I don’t think I was in the right state of mind to think deeply. Does that make sense?” I asked with a helpless shrug. “I’m sure I couldn’t walk in a straight line. How was I going to come up with a plan like that?”
He nodded slowly. “Got it. Really, they should not be allowed to perform marriage ceremonies for people who can barely walk.”
“Look at us, agreeing on something,” I observed with a soft laugh. “Although, if I remember correctly, Elvis did ask if you knew what you were doing.” Closing my eyes, thinking back, I nodded. “And I’m pretty sure you asked if he knew who he was talking to.”
I opened my eyes to find him wincing. “I wish I could say that doesn’t sound like me. Unfortunately, especially when I’ve had a few too many, it sounds exactly like something I’d say.”
It would have been nice if things were always like this—getting along, enjoying each other’s company, relating to each other like two normal people instead of acting like we were adversaries.
Of course, none of it mattered. We weren’t trying to build a relationship. I only needed to find a way to get out of this nightmare with my life. Otherwise, we would be annulled, and that would be the end of it—the way it needed to be.
And I would have to forget the way it felt when he kissed me.
The sheer exhilaration. The sense of being kissed for the first time, though that was far from true.
It was how I felt, though, like anyone who kissed me before didn’t know what the hell they were doing.
The first brush of his lips left me wet instantly, and things had kind of gone downhill from there.
It didn’t mean we should stay married.
What it did mean, though, was I had to fight like hell to forget the fact that we were sitting on the same bed and one of us was only in her underwear.
He certainly wasn’t forgetting it, his gaze lingering on me much too long before he muttered, “Maybe pull that blanket up a little higher if you don’t want to end up getting mauled, Oxford. ”
Mauled? The notion sent excitement skittering down my spine before my brain caught up and shut the idea down flat, compelling me to pull the blanket higher up.
The man was born to make me forget everything I thought I knew about myself.
Something about him made it too easy to abandon common sense in favor of what I wanted here and now, in this moment.
To hell with the consequences. That wasn’t me.
It had been a crazy couple of weeks since I got home.
“Maybe I should think about going now,” I whispered, a sentence that was way too hard to force out of my mouth. This was all wrong. Stupid. I had to leave before I let the stress, fear, and uncertainty trick me into making a mistake.
It didn’t help when he frowned, puzzled. “You’re leaving? I thought you were afraid to go home.” Was that disappointment, or was I only telling myself what I wanted to believe? We never should have kissed. What I wouldn’t give to turn back time.
“I mean, I still am…” I admitted. “But I never expected this to be a long-term offer.”
“You’re not going.”
Like anything could have stopped me after he said something so ridiculous. “Excuse me? Is my hearing failing? Because I’m pretty sure you just told me I’m not allowed to leave, and that’s bullshit.”
“If you’re going anywhere, it’s not back to your apartment.” Fuck me, how could he sound so certain? Like his word was law. His stony expression didn’t do him any favors, either. “I’m not going to let your pride get you hurt.”
“Who are you to say what I can and can’t do?” I demanded.
“The guy you called in tears, begging for help,” he growled out. “It’s out of the question. I can’t let you do this.”