A woman enters the room, pushing a food cart in.
“Good morning,” she says cheerfully.
I know it’s only her job, but I’m grateful for her great disposition.
It’s hardly morning. Well, not in the commonly accepted sense. It’s not even four o’clock.
Things just happened.
Like a violent storm, they’ve barreled through my soul and left me in the soothing silence of the aftermath.
“Thank you,” I say, watching her set the table.
“You’re welcome. Let me know if you need anything else.”
She leaves the room a moment later while I slide from under the covers and walk to the small table.
Barefoot and wearing only a pair of shorts and a cami.
I put honey in my tea and eat warm biscuits with butter and strawberry jam before sipping the warm drink.
“Mmm… This feels good…”
Who knew fighting off some jerk would help me work up an appetite?
I gobble down another biscuit, take my tea, and go back to bed. I set the cup on the nightstand before sliding under the covers.
The aroma of honey and chamomile tickles my nostrils as I take another sip when the door opens and Kai walks in.
He doesn’t look at me, his gray eyes holding a blizzard. Gray waters with floating ice. His features are stern, and there’s tension in his shoulders.
His knuckles are red, and he has bruises on his arms.
“Are you okay?” I ask quietly.
“Yeah, yeah… I’m fine.”
He’s not fine.
And I don’t know where he’s been.
I mean, there were things he needed to take care of.
Talking to the police, the lawyers, and the PR people. The ones paid handsomely to fix things and alter the public's perception. The ones who don’t mind getting a phone call from their clients in the middle of the night and being asked to make sure the incident never makes the headline news.
It’s terrible publicity for everyone, myself included, not that anyone knows me, but this type of notoriety is not what I’ve ever aimed for.
The things that happened tonight could change our lives. And not for the better, I assume.
“How are you?”
Now he looks at me.
“I’m good,” I say in a clipped voice, my words making him stall and even bring a small smile to his lips.
“How’s your hand?”
He flicks his chin in my direction before pulling off his T-shirt.