chapter 2

I slowly opened my eyes and took note of the oversized bed in which I was lying in. The sheets were soft and the pillows were fluffy. As I stared straight ahead, I noticed the beautiful green fabric that was draped amongst the four intricately carved cherry woodposts.

"You're awake," the low voice said as he walked through the door.

"Where am I?" I asked in a soft whisper.

He walked further into the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. "You're in my house."

"What happened to me?" I asked, since my mind was nothing but a ball of blur.

"Why don't you start by telling me your name?" he said as he sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over me.

I stared into his blue eyes as I answered him. "Rory. My name is Rory."

"Rory?" he asked with an odd look on his face.

"It's short for Aurora," I replied."It's nice to meet you, Rory. I'm Ian Braxton," he said as he got up from the bed and poured me a glass of water. "Here, take a sip."

I lifted my head as he held the glass up to my lips. The pain in my side was throbbing, reminding me of that horrific night.

"Good girl. Now, why don't you tell me who hurt you," he said.

I looked away because I wasn't about to tell him my troubles. He was a stranger, even though he did help me.

"How long have I been sleeping?" I asked.

"About two days. I'll ask you one last time. Who did this to you and why?"

"I don't know," I lied.

"You're lying," he said. "I don't likepeople who lie."

"And I don't like people who are nosy and think they can make everything their business."

He raised one eyebrow. "Hmm," he said as he stared at me. "Very well, Aurora. You'll tell me in due time," he said as he got up from the bed and walked over to the door. He put his hand on the handle and, before turning it, he turned around and looked at me. "I saved your life and now you owe me. That's how this works. I did something for you, and you'll do something for me."

He walked out of the room and shut the door behind him. I tried to sit up, but the pain was too intense. When I closed my eyes, all I could see was him, the look in his eye, and the pain of the knife that broke my flesh. I turned myhead and looked out the large window. The French doors that led out to the balcony were beautiful. The only thing I could see from my lying position was the blue sky. I had no idea where I was other than the fact that the house was owned by a man named Ian Braxton. A sexy man. A man who stood about six feet tall with light brown hair and blue eyes that reminded me of the sky outside my window. The slight scruff that he sported on his face made him even sexier. His voice was one I'd never be able to get out of my head. Low, deep, authoritative, and permanently etched into my brain. The only voice I heard when I was scared, hurt, and alone. My eyes felt heavy and, just as I closed them, I heard the light squeak of the door opening. I opened my eyes and saw Ian standing over me. "You need to take your antibiotics," he said.

"Antibiotics? For what?"

"So you don't get an infection from your stab wound. Do you remember what kind of knife it was?"

I closed my eyes, and instead of seeing darkness, I saw the stiletto blade he held in his hand after he stabbed me. My eyes flew open as a twinge of pain throbbed where my wound was.

"Are you all right, Aurora?"

"I'm fine," I said as I looked away.

"Is there something you want to tell me?"

"No. What would I possibly tell you?"

Ian sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at me. "You never told meyour last name." He smiled as he held out his hand with the large red pill in it.

I lifted my hand and, when I went to take it from him, he closed his hand on mine. "You have no reason to be afraid of me, Aurora. I can keep you safe, but you need to trust me."

I nodded my head and he smiled softly as he opened his hand and I took the pill from it. He handed me a glass of water as I put the pill in my mouth and swallowed it.

"Sinclair. My last name is Sinclair," I said. "And my name is Rory. I hate Aurora, so please call me Rory."

The corners of his mouth slightly curved up when I said that. "You must be starving. I'll have my chef prepare something for you. What kinds of food do you like?""I'm not hungry," I said in a low tone as I looked out the window.

"It doesn't matter if you're hungry or not. You have to eat."

He was starting to piss me off, and I just wanted to be left alone. "Can you please just leave me alone?" I said with an irritation in my voice.

"Fine. I'll leave you alone, at least for now. But, make no mistake, Aurora, this is far from finished."

He got up from the bed and walked out the door. What the hell was this guy's problem? He seemed like some kind of control freak. He would be easy to resist if he wasn't so damn sexy. Ugh…Rory, get the thought out of your head, I said to myself. A guy like that would never be interested in someone like me. About an hour later, a man wearing a white shirt, black pants, anda chef's hat on his head brought me a tray with a bowl of soup and a plate of bread on it.

"For you, Miss Rory. I've prepared homemade chicken noodle soup and homemade bread for you. Everything you need is here on the tray," he said as he set it across my lap.

The aroma of chicken soup filled the air. "Thank you. It smells delicious."

"You're welcome. If there's anything else I can get you, please just push this button and it will ring down to the kitchen." He smiled.

"Thank you. What's your name?"

"My name is Charles, ma'am," he said as he walked out the door.

As the steam was rising up from the soup, I took my spoon and stirred it around the bowl. I despised chickensoup and for good reason. But, I was hungry, and because I didn't specify what I liked to eat, Charles probably figured that chicken soup was the safest bet. I brought the spoon up to my mouth and lightly blew on it to cool the soup off. It wasn't bad. I'm sure it was phenomenal, but since my hatred for chicken soup was so strong, I couldn't get past that it was just okay. Being in this place scared me. He scared me. He said I could trust him, but I didn't trust anyone.