“Alessia,” I whisper, and her name is a prayer. I’m tempted to stroke her cheek, but I resist and whisper her name once more. She wakes with a gasp and a wide-eyed start, looking frantically around her. When her eyes meet mine, she stills.
“Hey. It’s me. You’ve been asleep. I want something to eat, and I need the loo. Do you want to come with me?”
She blinks several times, her long lashes fluttering over expressive but unfocused eyes.
She is gorgeous.
Rubbing her face, she looks around the car park, and her whole body suddenly tenses and radiates anxiety. “Please, Mister, don’t leave me here,” she says quietly.
“I’ve no intention of leaving you here. What’s wrong?”
She shakes her head, paler now.
“Let’s go,” I say.
Outside, I stretch as she clambers out of the car and almost runs to my side, her eyes scanning the surroundings.
What’s happened?
I offer her my hand, and she grabs it, holding tight. Then to my delight and surprise, she curls her other hand around my biceps and clings to me.
“You know, I was Maxim earlier,” I say, trying to make her smile. “I much prefer it to Mister.”
She flashes me an anxious look. “Maxim,” she whispers, but her eyes dart all over the car park.
“Alessia, you’re safe.”
She looks doubtful.
This will never do.
Releasing her hand, I grasp her shoulders. “Alessia, what’s wrong? Please tell me.”
Her expression changes, her wide eyes haunted and bleak.
“Please,” I beg, watching the vapor from our breath mingle between us in the frosty air.
“I escaped,” she whispers.
Shit! The rest of her story—I’m going to hear it here in a service station off the M5. “Go on,” I encourage her.
“It was a place like this.” She looks around again.
“What? A motorway services?”
She nods. “They stopped. They wanted us to wash. To be clean. They were being…um…kind. Or so some of the girls thought. They made it seem like it was for our…um…What is the word? Our…um…good. Benefit. Our benefit. But if we were cleaner, we would bring a higher price.”
Fuck. This is going to make me angry again.
“Before. On the journey. I heard them talking. In English. About why we were going to England. They didn’t know I understood. And I knew what they were going to do.”
“Shit!”
“I told the other girls. Some of them did not believe me. But three of the girls did believe me.”
Bloody hell! There are more women!
“It was night, like now. One of the men, Dante, took three of us to the restrooms. We ran. All of us. He could not catch us all. It was dark. I ran into the woods. I ran and ran….I ran away. I don’t know about the other girls.” Her voice is tinged with guilt.
Oh, God.
I can bear no more. Overcome by what this young woman has braved, I fold her into my arms and hold her tightly. “I’ve got you,” I whisper, feeling raw and exposed and enraged on her behalf. We stand for seconds, minutes—I don’t know how long—in the cold car park, and finally, tentatively, she wraps her arms around me and relaxes into my hold, hugging me back. She fits perfectly in my arms. I can rest my chin on her head, should I so choose. She looks up at me, and it’s as if she’s seeing me for the first time. Her dark eyes are intense. Full of questions. Full of promise.
My breath catches in my throat.
What is she thinking?
Her eyes move to my lips, and she raises her head, her objective clear.
“You want me to kiss you?” I ask.
She nods.
Fuck.
I hesitate. I’ve vowed not to touch her. She closes her eyes, offering herself to me. And I can’t resist. I plant a soft, chaste kiss on her lips, and she melts against me with a moan.
It’s a wake-up call to my libido. I groan, staring down at her parted lips.
No.
Not now.
Not here.
Not after what she’s been through.
Not in a service area on the M5.
I kiss her forehead. “Come on. Let’s eat.” Surprised by my restraint and taking her hand, I lead her into the building.
* * *
Alessia trails beside Maxim, clinging to him while they cross the asphalt. She focuses on his comforting embrace and tender kiss, not what happened the last time she was in a service station. She tightens her hold on him. He makes her forget, and for that she’s grateful. The doors to the concourse open, and they step into the building, but she halts, bringing them both to a stop.
The smell. Zot. The smell.
Fried food.
Sweet food.
Coffee.
Disinfectant.
Alessia winces as she recalls being hustled to the restrooms. Not one bystander noticed her plight.
“You okay?” Maxim asks.
“I have the memories,” she says.
He squeezes her hand. “I’ve got you,” he says. “Come on. I really need the lavatory.” He gives her a rueful smile.
Alessia swallows. “I do, too,” she says shyly, and follows him to the restrooms.
“Unfortunately, I can’t take you in there with me.” Maxim tilts his head at the entrance. “I’ll be right outside here when you come out, okay?” he says. “You go.”
Alessia, reassured, takes a deep breath and walks into the bathroom, giving him a last glance before she turns the corner. There is no line for the stalls. Only two women, one older, one younger, are there, washing their hands at the basins. Neither of them looks as if she’s been trafficked from Eastern Europe.
Alessia chides herself.
What was she expecting?
The older lady, who must be at least fifty, turns to use the hand dryer, catches Alessia’s eye, and smiles. Feeling encouraged and more confident, Alessia heads into a cubicle.
When she exits, Maxim is there, leaning against the opposite wall, tall and muscular, one thumb hooked in the belt loop of his jeans. His hair is ruffled and messy, his vivid green eyes intense. He grins when he sees her, his face lighting up like a child’s at New Year’s, and he holds out his hand. Gladly, she takes it.
The coffee shop is a Starbucks; Alessia recognizes it from the many she’s seen in London. Maxim orders a double espresso for himself and, at her request, a hot chocolate.
“And what would you like to eat?” he asks.
“I am not hungry,” she replies.
He raises his eyebrows. “You didn’t have anything at Magda’s. I know you didn’t eat anything in my flat.”
Alessia frowns. She threw up her breakfast as well, but she isn’t about to tell him that. She shakes her head. She’s too upset by the day’s events to eat.
Maxim huffs in frustration and orders a panini.
“Actually, make that two,” he says to the barista, giving Alessia a sideways look.
“I’ll bring them over,” the barista replies, directing a coquettish smile at Maxim.
“We’d like them to go.” Maxim hands her a twenty-pound note.
“Of course.” The barista bats her eyelashes at him.
“Great, thanks.” He doesn’t return her smile but turns his attention to Alessia.
“I have money,” Alessia says.
Maxim rolls his eyes. “I’ve got this.”
They move to the end of the counter to wait for their order. Alessia wonders what she will do about money. She has a little, but she needs what she has for a deposit on a room. Though he did say that he could find her a room.
Did he mean a room in his apartment? Or somewhere else?
She doesn’t know. And
she has no idea how long they will stay or where they’re going or when she’ll be able to earn more cash. She’d like to ask him, but it’s not her place to question a man.
“Hey, don’t worry about money,” Maxim says.