Savior (The Kingwood Duet #2)

“I’m looking for Alexander, and my nurse.”

Checking her watch, she replies, “Your nurse has your medicine scheduled for noon. Are you in pain now? Should I go find her?”

It seems odd to me that she knows so much about my schedule, but I brush it off, hating that I let my feelings for this house affect the way I receive her kindness. The nurse is around, so it’s nice that April wants to make sure I’m taken care of. Trying to turn me to go upstairs, I stand my ground. “Oh no, it’s fine. I can wait.” I take a deep breath and exhale slowly, trying to ease the pain. “Have you seen Alexander?”

“He’s working in the office.”

“Here or downtown?”

“I don’t know of an office downtown. He closed the other one.”

For some reason I like that she doesn’t know about the penthouse. I don’t like that I had no idea what Alexander’s been up to since I left town. Although given what we’ve been through in the last few days, it does make sense. “Okay,” I reply. When she realizes I’m not going back to bed, she helps me down the rest of the stairs. Once we reach the bottom floor I thank her.

“I’m happy to help, and I have too much time on my hands.”

I make my way through the living room and down the dark wood-paneled hallway. The last time I was here I overheard Alexander’s father praising him that he done well when it came to me. A sickness I only feel when it comes to his father corrodes my stomach and I stop, hoping the bile won’t rise anymore. I swallow, attempting to cleanse and soothe my throat, but the memories always remain.

The door is closed, and I’m unsure whether I should knock or walk in. I’m unsure of what my place is in the manor. The one thing I am sure of is where I stand in Alexander’s life. I open the door and peek in. Even though his brow is furrowed as he stares at the papers on the desk, I’m so glad he’s here. I’m so happy he stayed in the manor even if he didn’t stay in bed. “Hey,” I say before barging in.

He looks up, smiles, and says, “Hey there, sleepyhead.” Coming around to greet me, he holds me by the shoulders and kisses my face—my forehead, my cheek, my chin, my lips—where he lingers. When he pulls back, he touches my cheek gently. “The swelling’s gone down. The bruises won’t last much longer. How are you feeling?”

I quirk a half-smile. “How many times can I say I’m happy to be alive before it gets annoying?”

“You being alive will never be annoying and is always worth celebrating.” Closing all space between us, he whispers, “Let me be the first.” Our lips meet in a gentle embrace.

I whimper when our mouths part and giggle that I whimpered out loud. When I peek up, Alexander’s eyes flame bright like blue fire, his hunger for me singeing me. He leans down, his cheek brushing against mine, his lips caressing the shell of my ear. My breathing deepens, and my knees feel weak as the heat of his breath warms my skin. “Never leave me again.”

“I won’t.” My fingers run over the hard muscle of his upper arm, and my head falls against his chest with an ache in my heart for how much this strong man is hurting inside. “I promise.”

Like my wounds, I need to heal his, wanting to bring him back to life, back to the man he’s forgotten he is deep inside. Exhaling some of the heavy, I look up at him and he smiles down at me. I turn in his arms, and we drift apart when I walk to the window to look out at the gardens. “Tell me about work.”

“Work.” He sighs as if the word itself annoys him.

When he doesn’t continue, I ask, “How have you been managing with your father . . .” Our eyes meet and scorn swims inside his pupils. I’m not sure if I should have mentioned his father, but I need to make sure Alexander is taken care of like he takes care of me. “Gone?”

“Work never stops. I’m doing exactly what I never wanted—running Kingwood Enterprises.”

“What do you do now?”

Taking a file in hand, he flips it open. “Get rid of it all. I don’t care about it. I thought it meant something since my mother’s money helped build it, but it has my father’s fingerprints on every surface. It’s as dirty as he was.”

“I’m sorry for bringing it up. I was cur—”

“You have a right to know what’s happening with it.” The file drops to the desk and aggravation that subject causes with it. That cocky smirk of his youth decides to turn up the wattage, and for extra fun he raises an eyebrow. “To the rest of the world, you’re Mrs. Kingwood.”

“And to you, Alexander?”

“My universe.”

“You say the most amazing things. What did I do to deserve you?”

“Some don’t see me as a positive in your life.”

“That’s because they don’t see the real you, the you I see, the you I know so well.”

“The real question is what did I do to deserve you?”

“You saw me for who I was on the inside.”

He laughs. “You’re too good for me. If you only knew what I really thought the first time I saw you.”

Elbowing him playfully as I pass by, I reply, “Oh really? Do tell.”

“I’d scare you away, and I like having you around.”

“I don’t scare that easily if you haven’t noticed.”

“I have.” Taking my hand gently in his, I stop and look back at him. “What is it?”

“I want you to know that things have changed. I work all the fucking time trying to get Kingwood Enterprises broken apart and sold. I’m looking at a few more months to settle it all so I can move on and never look back. In the meantime, you’re back and you are my priority. I can hire managers and lawyers, but I don’t want to miss a minute of my life with you. Not after all the time we’ve already lost.”

“Thank you.” He takes my hand and leads me to a chair, but I continue talking, “I felt I had lost you to the search for answers regarding your mother. I realize now I hadn’t. I just had to share you. I understand why it’s so important to you. As much space as I take in your heart, there will always be a part of you that will need her.”

He sits next to me. “I don’t need her. I want answers though. Still. That’s what will fill the hole she left inside me.”

“Can we talk about April?” I ask, hoping he’s open to chatting about her.

“Sure,” he replies, standing and making his way around to the other side of the desk.

“I remember you saying she was going to get an apartment after rehab. What happened?”

“I was visiting with her before she got out of rehab and, I don’t know . . . guilt.” He drops his head into hands. “I feel guilty for her life turning out the way it did. My father did that to her. Then I feel guilty because my mom died. It feels traitorous at times to even talk to April much less help her.”

“But you are. You have a big heart, Alexander, and your mom would be proud of you.”

“Thank you,” he says, catching me in a yawn. “Let’s get you back to bed. You shouldn’t be wandering the halls.”

He bends down and lifts me like he did last night. “We need to start feeding you something more substantial. You’re losing too much weight.”

I’ve lost more than weight over the last few months: My hope.

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