Chapter 12

Abby

I lay in bed thinking about Cohen, letting him fuck me, and the guilt ate me up. It hurt even worse that I hadn’t heard from James; it was as if James knew that I had betrayed the emotional connection we’d had by doing what I’d done with Cohen, and now I’d never get that connection back. I closed my laptop, putting it beside me, sighing as I got out of bed to check on Paul. The last time I had spoken to him, he’d been almost incoherent again, with no sign that he remembered my mother or the fact that she had love puns and quiet moments.

I glanced in the room to find him still sleeping peacefully, his heart monitor going at a steady rate. He seemed peaceful, and I decided that I’d wait until later to wake him when I had breakfast ready. I went outside the room and into the kitchen, which was blessedly empty. I didn’t want to see Cohen again, although I knew that I would inevitably run into him. I didn’t want to feel the desire that overwhelmed my body any time I was near him, nor did I want the confusion that came with the feelings that stirred in my gut when he met my eye with his cutting gaze.

I was slicing bread for toast when the kitchen door opened and Cohen came in, his eyes sleepy, rubbing his hand over a stubbled jaw. He looked up at me when he entered.

“Abby,” he said.

“Mr. Ashton,” I said coolly.

He stared at me as he crossed the room, eyeing the knife in my hand.

“I wanted to apologize to you,” he said. I stared at him, lifting one eyebrow.

“Excuse me?”

“Last night—the things I said,” he said. “I didn’t mean them. Not entirely.”

“So you don’t always want me?” I asked him, slicing into the loaf again. His lips twitched into a flicker of a smile.

“I’m not sure I want to answer that question while you’ve got a knife in your hand,” he said. “Seems like a bad idea.”

“Does it?”

He nodded, looking into my eyes. “You’re a bit volatile.”

I snorted, putting the knife down, carrying the slices of bread to the toaster.

“I really am sorry,” he said. I turned to him to see that he had gotten up, crossed the room toward me and the counter. He stood close to me, leaning against it, looking down at my face.

“Do you hate me?” I asked him.

“Sometimes,” he said.

“Because you want me,” I breathed. He didn’t say anything, but brought his hand up to my neck, touching my throat with his knuckles. I shivered under his touch as it drew upward over my jaw, his eyes on my skin, tracing it where he’d touched.

“I—”

He was cut off by the sound of the doorbell ringing, and he cursed and drew his hand from me, his lips pressing into a thin line.

“That’s probably them,” he said.

“What are you going to do about them?” I asked him. “You don’t think that they’re legitimate?”

“No,” he said. “No, I don’t.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“Just don’t ask too many questions. Let me do the talking,” he said as he headed out of the kitchen. I finished getting Paul’s breakfast ready, hurrying back to his room with it. I didn’t want to miss too much time with the strangers—I wanted to know what was going on too, how it was possible that Cohen might have been lied to by his uncle the whole time. I didn’t want that to be true—the Paul Rosenfelt in my mom’s letters was not a liar, wasn’t someone who would simply abandon his family for no reason.

Paul had his eyes open when I went into the room, and I smiled when his face lit up as I came through the door.

“Abby,” he said as I put the food down on the tray in front of him. “You’re my favorite of these nurses, you know.”

“Really?” I asked him. “Why?”

“None of them have that smile like you do,” he said, his hand shaking as he tried to scoop a spoonful of oatmeal. When he couldn’t bring it to his lips, I gently took the spoon and did it for him.

“You’re doing a good job just eating, Paul,” I said to him encouragingly. “And you did so good yesterday. I’d imagine you’re worn out today.”

Paul took a spoonful of the oatmeal shakily, swallowing it down, nodding with his eyes closed.

“Seems like a lot wears me out these days,” he said with a sigh.

“That’s OK,” I said. “It happens to everybody. When you’re older, you’re not supposed to have to do all the work yourself. You earned the right to have someone take care of you.”

“Maybe you’re right,” he said, sighing. He went quiet as I continued to feed him, listening sharply to the voices in the hall. I could hear Gregory’s loud, booming voice, but not Bella’s simpering purr. Just thinking about the woman put me on edge but I ignored it as I finished feeding Paul.

“Paul,” I asked him. “Did you ever have any children?”

“No, no children,” he said sadly. “Always wanted them. But I did get Cohen, my boy. Cohen found me. He’s my son. He’s a good man.”

“He is,” I said to him as I stood up. I could hear the voices growing louder, closer, making their way into the foyer. “Do you want to rest for a little bit? I’ll be back a little later for physical therapy.”

“Yes, let me get some sleep first,” he said, yawning as he leaned back into his bed. I nodded, watching as his eyelids fluttered closed before going back into my room. I looked in the mirror, smearing a little makeup on around my eyes, blush to accentuate my cheekbones. It wasn’t something that I had done since living at Cohen’s house but when I thought of Bella, that look she gave him, it made me want to show up for a reason that nagged at me, even as I applied a soft pink lipstick.

I went out of the room to see that Cohen was standing with Bella and Gregory in the foyer, not speaking. Cohen’s eyes met mine when I entered the room and his gaze flickered over me, drinking me in. For a moment, he only stared at me as the others went silent.

“Hi,” I said to him, looking into his eyes.

“Abby,” he said in a strange, breathless voice. Bella approached him from the side, her eyes sizing me up.

“You’re the nurse?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said to her, trying not to show any annoyance. “I’m Paul’s nurse.”

“Cohen says you haven’t been working for very long, is that right?”

I shot Cohen a look.

“Just a few weeks,” I said to her. She made a sniffling noise and turned away from me, turning her eyes instead to one of the rich tapestries that was hanging on the wall, one of a man charged into a field of soldiers atop a long-tusked elephant.

“This is interesting,” she said.

“I’m afraid we didn’t have breakfast prepared for you,” Cohen said to them, finally dragging his eyes off my face.

“We ate. We just came here really to speak to my father and get a glimpse of this place. I remember this house from when I was a kid—”

“Paul’s sleeping,” I interrupted him. “He won’t be awake for a couple of hours. Breakfast wears him out.”

“We can wait, then,” Gregory said. “In the meantime, a tour?”

“I thought you’d been here before,” Cohen said gruffly. Gregory grinned.

“I was a kid. You know big old places like this. It just seemed like a maze to me. And that garden outside—do you still keep that up?”

“Yes,” Cohen said.

“So let’s take a look around. I have fond memories of this place. Dad used to get on me for climbing the bannister—”

“Let’s go,” Cohen said through gritted teeth. I could sense his tension, hot and potent, the anger radiating off of him. I followed him up the stairs to the second floor, Gregory behind me, Bella walking as close to Cohen as she could get.

“So, Mr. Ashton,” the woman purred. “Tell me something about yourself. Ever since I found out who you were, I’ve been fascinated with the man behind the name. I always heard you were a bad boy.”

I felt a heat swirl inside of me, saw Cohen glance at me from the corner of his eye. Then his face transformed into a flirty smile as he looked at her. My nostrils flared when he spoke.

“There’s truth to the rumors,” he said in a silky voice as we made our way up the stairs. We started the tour in the office, where Bella stayed next to Cohen as he showed her the books, some of the medieval weapons on the walls. Gregory’s eyes would often wander to my body, and once I shot him annoyed glance he had the grace to look away.

“So Gregory,” I said. “When was the last time you saw Paul?”

“I was about thirteen,” he said. “About as old as I was in that picture.”

“Why did you just now come back?”

“Abby—” Cohen began, but I went on without him, defiantly ignoring the fact that he was standing close to Bella near the desk.

“It took me awhile to work up the nerve. I always had a feeling that dad wanted me out of his life altogether. I wasn’t sure I was welcome. But I’d heard he was sick—”

“How?” Cohen asked.

“Somewhere in town,” the man shrugged vaguely. “Anyway, I thought it’d be a good time to come and see him. I didn’t want—didn’t want to let him go before saying goodbye. Do you think he’s awake yet?”

“No,” I said quickly. For some reason, I wanted to protect Paul from these people as long as possible. I didn’t want them to get their hands on him, especially because I had a feeling that Cohen was right about them.

We continued the tour, Bella and Cohen walking side-by-side with Gregory and I trailing behind him. We looked at the library, and I noticed the hungry look in Gregory’s eye every time his gaze lit on something that was obviously opulent and expensive.

“You know,” Bella said. “We don’t mean to impose, Mr. Ashton, but last night was our last night at the hotel. Looking around this beautiful house, it seems like you have plenty of room?”

“Yes, do you mind if we stay here?” Gregory asked. A look of bewilderment passed over Cohen’s face. He opened his mouth to speak but Bella touched his arm, meeting his eye as she batted her lashes.

“There’s plenty of time to talk about it,” she said sweetly. “Let’s get to know each other a little better first, hm? Would that make you more comfortable.”

“I—”

“I’d love to see the garden,” Gregory said, cutting Cohen off. Cohen gave him a sharp look but nodded, meeting my eye before he turned around. I stared at him coldly, especially when his hand went to Bella’s waist to guide her down the stairs. I had never been jealous before in my life, but I could feel it flaring within me as I watched the two of them together. I paused in the doorway as they started to head outside.

“I think I’m going to go check on Paul, see if he’s ready for you to come up,” I said. Cohen met my eye, pulling away from Bella. I couldn’t help but to glare at him, nearly seething with anger and frustration that came from experiencing actual jealousy that I didn’t want or need. He raised an eyebrow at me as if in question.

“OK,” he said. “You coming back down?”

“Not for a while. I want to lay down,” I said. My heart raced in my chest, threatening to burst. I turned around before any of them could say anything, pulling away from his gaze, and made my way upstairs to check on Paul. I heard them leave and glanced out the window, noted Cohen looking up at me, and wondered if he could see me at all. I flipped him off just in case, turning around and going into Paul’s room. He was still asleep, and I went to him, placing my hand on his forehead.

“Who are these people, Paul?” I asked him, knowing he was too far-gone to hear me.