Married To The Thorn In My Flesh

Alexander Thorne's POV

Phone in hand, I tap on the steering wheel, eyes fixed on the line-up of cars in my private garage. My mind is elsewhere.

Dimitri left thirty-five minutes ago. I sent Garvey home, too, but I've been seated inside this car, waiting.

Dinner for Sophia and her new dress sits on the passenger seat beside me.

My fist clenches tight around my phone. My patience is wearing thin, but I don't have a choice.

I unlock my phone and stare at the text I was forced to send because this inattentive Psycho wouldn't pick up my calls. I delete the text after some seconds.

My phone vibrates all of a sudden.

Caller ID: Psycho

I immediately pick up. "Why didn't you answer your phone? Is what I pay you not enough?"

"My apologies, Mr. Thorne. Was at a seminar. No phones were allowed."

Exhaling deeply, I put a hand on my head.

She's silent. It tells me she's read the text.

"Have you deleted it?"

"Of course."

I nod, dropping my eyes to the luxury shopping bag containing Sophia's clothes. I replay what happened between us on my sofa. I replay when I lost control. How I did, I'm not sure.

Keeping her close and occupied was the only way I could contain whatever happened to me.

"How did you stop?" Psycho asks.

"She stopped me," I answer, tasting the bitterness of a bruised ego on my tongue.

"Isn't that a good sign?"

"It's not."

"Do you wanna come in tomorrow? I can fix an appointment for eight."

"Make it one P.M.. I have somewhere to be in the morning..."

"All right. See you tomorrow, Mr. Thorne."

I hang up and take the things from the passenger's seat, then exit the car.

The penthouse is quiet when I get inside.

"Sophia?" I call.

There's no response.

Slowly, I drop the bags on the coffee table.

The plastic bag containing her dirty clothes is still on the floor, where she left it. It's giving me a headache.

I slip my phone inside my pocket, making my way to the dark room she ran into when Dimitri arrived.

"Soph?"

Still no answer.

I enter and stop, staring at her still, small silhouette, curled up on the floor.

Brave of her to fall asleep in a man's house.

I drop to my knees to wake her.

"Sophia-"

A phone buzzes. It's not mine.

A light appears, and I see her phone in her grip. Turned on. Not off like I told her to do earlier.

I take the phone out of her grip. She doesn't even budge. After all her adventures tonight, passing out must have been inevitable.

But I know her parents. Sophia is their world, and they'll stop at nothing to find their daughter, including tracking her down.

Quickly, I enter the passcode and unlock her phone. Overstepping? Yes. But I happen to know her passcode. And just as I guessed, her location is turned on. I turn it off.

There's a chat message from 'Layla's friend': {You can just pay me for gas. Don't bother about the full payment.}

A call comes in.

Caller ID: Love of my life.

Her boyfriend? I can't tell; there's no picture.

I let it ring. Just as I'm about to turn off her phone, it vibrates again. It's the same caller.

Exhaling in irritation, I answer it.

"Sophia?!" Mr. Rose's distressed voice scrapes my ear. "Where are you, my love? How are you?"

I take the phone away from my ear, staring at the screen.

Her father is the love of her life? Interesting.

"Is this Sophia's boyfriend?!" He barks suddenly, tone switching. "Did you run off with my daughter?"

Boyfriend?

"I'll find you, and when I-"

I hang up and turn her phone off, then return it to her purse that's spilling out dollar bills.

I take out my phone, opening the chatting app.

There's a message from Mr. Rose: {We caught someone who saw a man help Sophia get down from the wall. He said the man was her boyfriend. I'm really sorry for the trouble, Son. I'll teach her better.}

I type my reply: {It's not a problem, Father-in-law. We'll all have breakfast together tomorrow. I assure you, she'll be found soon.}

I return my phone to my pocket, take her purse, and scoop her into my arms.

Face plain and peaceful, she remains sleeping, unaware of all that's happening as I carry her to my bedroom.

******

- - - -

Sophia's POV

My body aches as if I've been climbed and hit. My injuries sting softly. I let out a breath, turning on the comfortable bed. Pillows so soft and clean. Fresh, amberwood, cocoa...

I blink my eyes open.

For a few seconds, I keep my gaze on the white ceiling, struggling to arrange my fuzzy thoughts and see clearly. Nothing registers yet. Until-

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,"

My whole body tightens with awareness. It's immediate.

I turn my head sharply. Dark eyes are already locked on me. My vision blurs, but I see. And everything comes rushing back-my failed escape, his penthouse, treating my wounds, our hot kiss, Dimitri.

Now, I'm waking up beside him?

What is going on?! Why are we in bed together? Under the same sheet.

The same sheet?!

An alarm goes off in my head.

I grab the sheet, about to lift it to see if I'm undressed. But he's faster. He grips it from underneath, stopping me.

My pulse stumbles into a fast rhythm.

"I'm naked." He utters.

What?!

"Oh my god!" I plaster my eyes with both hands, shrinking away from him in panic.

He moves toward me, and I feel the heat from his body.

Oh, God.

My eyes open to see him rising. The sheet falls.

I turn away quickly, eyes closed, squeezing the sheet. But without failing to glimpse black clothes.

He breaks into a short chortle. Nothing else. And slowly, I turn my head, opening my eyes halfway.

He's seated, looking over me.

I stare now, only to see he's fully clothed, not naked, not smiling either.

I should punch him in the face, but he looks sinfully gorgeous and dangerous; I might regret my action.

"Can't take a joke, hm... thought you were about to cry." He says softly, lifting his hand to my face. He brushes hair from it, and I shiver.

"Did the thought of being naked with me scare you?"

I swallow hard, heart racing, brain booting like Windows 7 on a bad day.

"You fell asleep in that room... so I brought you to my bedroom." He slowly leans toward me.

I blink, determined to keep my eyes open.

"You're the first woman." He whispers in my ear, then locks his gaze on mine. "I wouldn't have sex with you without your consent."

My stomach dips, heat spreading within me.

"And just so you know," he lifts himself above me, under the sheet, eyes not moving from mine. "No sex until we get married."

He doesn't drop his weight on me, but he plants his legs between mine, hovering above.

The heat slides up my neck now as I struggle to keep still.

"We're not kissing again, too." He announces, his small, pink lips forming a beautiful pout when he says 'too'. "But we'll do other things..."

He inches close, face above mine, body above mine. However, he keeps his weight suspended.

"Other things you're not ready to handle yet..." His voice is barely a whisper-sultry, low, dark.

I feel his knee brush my thigh, where he bandaged, and my eyes close finally with a sigh. I turn my head away, suddenly wanting to feel his weight on me as I'm hypnotized.

Soft lips press under my left eye, kissing my mole.

"You've got beautiful, hazel eyes... can I see them?"

I oblige him, slowly opening my eyes. His face blurs, but I know he's staring-into my soul, my mind-a mind I might be losing soon.

"Want a teaser?"

My pulse slams hard, aching with desires I didn't know I possessed.

He waits.

After a long pause, I give him a slow nod, because it seems like the only option. My fingers curl tight around the sheet.

He adjusts. Then I feel his hands gently part my legs, spreading.

I gasp, shutting my eyes.

"Open your eyes," he commands softly.

I open them, trembling, breath rapid in his face. My chest swells.

Then,

"That's all for today, Love." He slowly withdraws his hands. "We've got breakfast at your house."

"Breakfast?" I whisper, still swimming in what he's just made me feel.

He replies with a nod, then withdraws completely.

I watch him roll off the bed. He stands tall and huge, moving around freely like he owns the place. He does.

"Your phone was turned on." He mutters, calm and controlled, walking away. "The love of your life called. Thought it was your boyfriend. Was going to tell him you're engaged... turned out to be your father."

"What?"

"Your father believes you spent the night at your boyfriend's. That's the story we're going with."

"W-what? H-how?" I sit up in shock.

"We leave in thirty minutes. Your clothes are in the guest bedroom." He says and opens a door. He slips in.

As if on cue, his shirt falls off his back. And so does my mouth-to the ground.

Just before the door shuts, I glimpse a back so broad and toned. A masterpiece of ink and muscle.

'He's not the type of man you'd want...' Dimitri's words echo in this moment.

But why do I still want him... even after eight months of staying away?