Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Patrick

I can't stop watching her.

As soon as I got into my home office, I turned on my computer and navigated straight to my camera system. Then I watched. And I haven't stopped. I should be working, but nothing will be getting done tonight. The only thing I'm interested in is making sure she's okay.

At first, she stood in the middle of the living room looking around like she wasn't sure what had just happened. She hadn't expected me to be nice to her. It pissed me the fuck off. She isn't used to being treated like a human.

Every second she hesitantly walks around the penthouse, I want to put a bullet in her father's forehead. Part of me wants to beg her to tell me all the bad stuff he's done to her, while the other part is scared to know because I might really lose my shit and torture the motherfucker for a long time before I let him die.

Then, when she disappears into her room, one of the few places in the house where I don't have a camera, I sit and stare at the screen, willing her to come back out so I can see her again.

Finally, at ten minutes to six, she emerges slowly as if walking on eggshells. My fingers tighten around my glass of whiskey. She shouldn't be scared of moving around the house. This is her home. At least until the one on the estate gets built.

I am pleased that she's changed into a new outfit. I'll burn the clothes she arrived in. I will do everything possible to make her forget everything in her past, even what she was forced to wear. I did okay choosing the right size for leggings, but the fuzzy pink sweater I picked out practically goes down to her knees. Maybe it's meant to be oversized. Either way, it's adorable as fuck, and she looks warm and comfortable.

She opens the refrigerator and bends down slightly to look at the array of dishes my housekeeper has left. As she checks them out, her ass sways, and I curse. Fuck. She's so small, but her ass is perfectly rounded.

The way she pulls one container out, looks at it, and then moves on to another is adorable. I'm not sure if she can't decide what she wants or if she's so hungry she wants it all.

Fuck it. She's getting it all. Even if I have to make the decision for her. Slamming my laptop closed, I head out to the kitchen as quietly as possible, not wanting to startle her. The heels of my shoes click softly on the tile floor when I walk into the kitchen, and she instantly tenses, her knuckles turning white as she grips the fridge door.

"Easy, Anastasia. I just came to get some supper." I keep a distance from her, leaning my hip against the counter on the other side of the island so there's something between us. It kind of feels like I'm trying not to scare a baby deer. The cutest damn deer I've ever seen.

"What are you eating? Anything in there look good?"

Slowly, she holds up a container of spaghetti and then looks at the microwave behind my head.

Right. She needs to heat it.

"Heat it for four minutes, and it should be perfectly hot. I've done a lot of trial and error." I chuckle and move out of her way, then take her place in front of the fridge to pick out some more options.

Unsure of what she would like more, I grab a meatloaf and a sliced sirloin with vegetables and mashed potatoes. All the best comfort foods. I have a feeling she's going to need a lot of comfort.

When the microwave dings, I hurry over to grab her food before she does so she doesn't burn herself. The quick movement causes her to gasp and step back, but when I set the container on a plate and hold it out for her, I swear, her eyes are smiling.

"Go sit at the table. I'll bring you a bottle of water unless you'd prefer something else?"

She shakes her head and scurries away from me. I hate that she's not speaking, but I'm a patient man, and I can deal with head nods and shakes for the time being. At least she's giving me that much. Her entire world has been tipped upside down, and while I'd like to think it's for the better, it must be terrifying for her. She has no idea of my intentions or that I truly have none other than not being able to leave her with that bastard.

I pop my food into the microwave just as my phone sounds. After I slide it from my pocket and glance at the screen, I see a message in my group chat with all the girls. I sigh. I'm sure the word has spread quickly.

Chloe

Cali said you have a girlfriend. Are you her Daddy?

Cali

Chloe! You weren't supposed to say anything.

Scarlet

When have we ever been able to keep things quiet?

Katie

Who has a new girlfriend?

Paisley

Patrick does.

Kieran

Why the fuck did I get added to this chat?

I grin when Kieran leaves the group, and Paisley posts an eye-roll emoji.

Paisley

He's always such a grumpy-pants.

Chloe

So tell us about your girlfriend. Can we meet her? Is she nice? Does she like makeup?

Cali

Does she like piranhas?

Shaking my head, I silence my phone and slide it back into my pocket. Those brats can wait until tomorrow to pry information from me. They like to torture me so much; now it's my turn.

When I raise my head, Ana's gaze is on me, but as soon as she notices me glancing at her, she looks in the other direction.

I take a couple of bottles of water to the table and then grab my food before I go to sit next to her. She watches my every movement like a hawk until I'm seated and eating. After what feels like several minutes, she finally picks up her fork again and takes a bite. As she chews, she closes her eyes and drops her shoulders, a tiny smile playing at her lips.

"It's good, huh? Helen makes the best food. Try a bite of this steak. It's my favorite." I slide the plate over to her and leave it as I eat the meatloaf.

She stares at me for a second like she's unsure what to do. Finally, her hunger seems to get the best of her, and she stabs a piece of the meat. When she puts it in her mouth, she hums, and I'm suddenly hot all over.

Jesus Christ. That's a beautiful fucking sound.

Her gaze flies up to mine, and she blushes, and I'm hard as a fucking rock over her. Shit. This is bad. So bad. The last thing this woman needs is me getting turned on by the noises she makes.

For the rest of the meal, I avoid eye contact, even when I offer her some meatloaf. I'm pleased as hell when she accepts it, and by the time we're done, the plates are wiped clean, and she's holding her tummy.

"Feel better?" I pick up the plates, including hers, and take them to the sink.

I'm caught completely off guard when she rushes to my side and tries to take over.

"I've got it, Anastasia," I say as gently as I can. "Why don't you watch TV or soak in the tub? There's all kinds of bath bombs and stuff in there."

She furrows her eyebrows, her nose scrunched in confusion.

"Do you know what bath bombs are, Anastasia?"

When she shakes her head, I mentally add another strike next to her father's name. He's a dead man. That's all there is to it.

"Come. I'll show you. Do you like baths?"

Her eyes sparkle as she bobs her head enthusiastically. I don't miss the way she bounces on the balls of her feet, but I don't say anything to bring attention to it.

I love how she follows me so closely as I lead her through her room into the bathroom. She's not saying any words, but I feel her excitement about having a bath. Looks like I'll be buying every bath bomb, bath foam, salt soak, and every other bath accessory I can find in the city of Seattle. Maybe even the world.

Thankfully, it's spacious in here with a full shower, double vanity, soaking tub, and a separate room with a toilet. The last thing I want to do is crowd her. This might be a small step forward in getting her to trust me.

After I plug the bathtub, I turn on the taps to get the water going. Once it's to a good temperature, I straighten and go to the switches on the wall.

"There's a dimmer here if you want it somewhat dark while you bathe. This turns on the heated floor." I press the button so the tile will be nice and warm when she gets out. "Now, for the bath bombs."

She watches me closely, a mix of anticipation and nerves laced on her face. I wish I knew what I could do to get her to trust me, but I have a feeling it needs to happen naturally.

I reach into the cupboard under the sink and pull out a large wicker basket filled with all kinds of supplies. Picking up one of the powdery balls, I show it to her.

"Smell this one."

When she doesn't immediately do it, I reach out. "Here. You can hold it. If you don't like that scent, there are others."

Slowly, she takes it from me and brings it to her nose. As she takes a deep whiff, she closes her eyes, her shoulders lift, and then the corners of her mouth tip up into a smile. When she looks up at me, she nods.

I offer her another one to sniff, but as soon as she does, she wrinkles her cute little button nose and shakes her head.

No eucalyptus. Noted.

"Let's go with the purple one, then. It's lavender. All you have to do is drop it into the water and watch it do its thing." I motion toward the tub.

She hesitates for a second, looking from me to the bomb like she's worried it's a trick. Then she goes over to the tub and drops it in, gasping when it starts to fizz.

"Ohhhh," she murmurs. "Pretty."

There's something so fucking pure watching her. So innocent. It feels like a gift being able to experience this first with her.

"There's one more thing to make it even prettier." I move back to the switches on the wall. "This one on the right turns on the lights in the tub, and then you turn the dial to whatever color you want."

When I switch it on and turn it to purple, her mouth drops open as she stares at the glowing water.

I chuckle softly and lean against the doorframe. "Enjoy your bath, Anastasia. I'll be gone early tomorrow."

"Patrick." Her tone is soft, and when I turn to look at her, she bites her bottom lip. "T-thank you."

"You're welcome, little one. Sleep well. You can lock the bedroom door before you go to bed if that makes you feel safer."

She doesn't reply. She doesn't have to. The way she brings her hand to her heart and smiles at me says it all.

When I get to my bedroom and strip out of my suit, my mind races at a million miles an hour. There are so many questions I don't have the answers to, but the one thing I know without a doubt is that Anastasia is mine. Even if it's only platonically. I'm never letting her go. She's too special. And I'm too fucking selfish.