Chapter 3 - The Sanctuary
Marco moved through the station with purposeful intensity, clearing the way ahead.
People stepped aside almost automatically, sensing the dangerous aura rolling off the two men in tailored suits.
Outside the station, the freezing November rain was now falling in heavy sheets.
A massive, sleek black SUV waited right at the curb, its heavily tinted windows too dark to see through.
Marco swiftly opened the rear door, and Aleandro climbed inside, keeping me securely in his arms.
“Wait,” I tried protesting one last time.
“You can’t just—”
“Breathe, Amanda.”
He gently settled me onto the luxurious leather seat beside him and kept one warm hand steady on my shivering shoulder.
“You’re safe now. That’s all that matters right now.”
Safe.
I could honestly no longer remember the last time I had felt truly safe anywhere.
The heavy SUV smoothly merged into the chaotic Manhattan traffic.
Bright streetlights blurred like watercolor paintings across the rain-slicked glass.
Every single warning I had ever received in my life told me I should be absolutely terrified right now.
I was in a wealthy stranger’s vehicle, going somewhere totally unknown with two intimidating men I knew nothing about.
Yet, when Aleandro retrieved a chilled bottle of water from a hidden console and placed it in my shaking hands, I could not find the fear I thought I should feel.
He then took off his incredibly warm, expensive charcoal blazer and draped it gently over my freezing shoulders.
“Drink slowly. Very small sips,” he instructed quietly.
The water was cold and absolutely perfect.
I had not fully understood how dangerously thirsty I was until I swallowed the first sip.
“Where exactly are we going?” I asked, my voice a raspy whisper.
“My home,” Aleandro replied easily. “I have a private doctor on call who will examine you when we arrive.”
“I’m a registered nurse,” I argued weakly. “I don’t need a doctor. I just need sleep.”
“Nurses make the absolute worst patients.”
There was almost a hint of genuine warmth in his deep voice.
“You know that just as well as I do.”
He was completely right.
The armored SUV eventually turned onto Park Avenue and stopped smoothly outside a massive, elegant building.
The architecture announced generational wealth without needing a flashy sign.
A uniformed doorman waited respectfully beneath the large entrance canopy with an umbrella.
Gleaming white marble was visible through the heavy glass lobby doors.
I looked down at my soaked, cheap clothing and dirty hospital sneakers, and then at Aleandro’s immaculate attire.
“I really don’t belong here,” I whispered, shrinking back against the leather seat.
“You’re here because I brought you here,” Aleandro stated with absolute finality. “That means you belong.”
He stepped out of the vehicle and extended his large hand toward me.
“Come. Let’s get you warm and properly fed.”
I stared at his hand for a long moment.
I took it.
The simple decision felt both monumental and entirely inevitable.
The moment I stood up on the sidewalk, the entire world tilted violently sideways.
Pitch darkness moved rapidly inward from the edges of my vision.
My exhausted, malnourished body had finally completely stopped fighting the inevitable.
The absolute last thing I remembered was Aleandro catching me for the second time that night.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered. “You’re safe now.”
Consciousness returned to me very slowly.
The very first thing I noticed was the incredible softness against my skin.
The sheets beneath me felt impossibly smooth and cool compared to the cheap, threadbare bedding in my apartment.
Then I noticed the warmth.
Real, deep, comforting warmth from a heavy down comforter.
Finally, I noticed the ambient light in the room.
It was amber and gentle, rather than the harsh, flickering fluorescent bulb above my bed back in Queens.
I slowly opened my eyes.
The room featured massive high ceilings and cream-colored walls with subtle, tasteful gold accents.
A crystal chandelier hung above me that looked as though it belonged in an art museum.
Heavy velvet curtains beautifully framed a breathtaking view of the Manhattan skyline from a height I had never experienced.
Memory rushed back into my brain like a flood.
The crowded subway.
Fainting.
The dark-haired stranger.
His intense eyes locked on my bruises.
Aleandro Raldi.
I sat up entirely too quickly and immediately became nauseous and dizzy.
My wet, ruined jacket had been removed, but I was still wearing my T-shirt and jeans.
My dirty sneakers sat neatly arranged beside the heavy mahogany door.
A soft knock suddenly sounded against the wood.
Aleandro entered the massive bedroom carrying a silver tray.
He had changed out of his suit into a simple black cashmere sweater, the sleeves pushed casually to his elbows.
“You’re awake. Good.”
He placed the tray gently on the marble nightstand beside the bed.
“How do you feel, Amanda?”
“Confused,” I admitted, my voice hoarse from sleep.
“What time is it?”
“It is just past noon. You have been asleep for about twelve hours.”
He poured me a cup of steaming chamomile tea with honey.
“Dr. Vincent examined you last night after you lost consciousness, entirely with your permission.”
“I don’t remember giving anyone permission for anything.”
“You were semi-conscious but responsive when we arrived,” Aleandro explained calmly. “I asked whether you would allow a trusted doctor to examine you. You nodded your head.”
May you like
He handed me the delicate teacup.
“What exactly did he find?”
