Champagne tasted bitter. Don't don't take me home. He has the codes. He has my security. Aiden's heart hammered against his ribs.
He couldn't take a billionaire back into the ballroom. It would cause immediate frenzy that would ruin her reputation, exactly what Tristan wanted. He couldn't take her to a hospital without causing a massive scandal, and he certainly couldn't take her to her penthouse if Tristan had access to it. He had exactly one option, and it was a terrible one. Okay, Aiden said, sliding his arm under her knees and around her back.
Hold on to me. He lifted her. She was surprisingly light, her head tucking naturally into the crook of his neck. Aiden pushed through the opposite fire door, bypassing the valet and taking the service exit out into the pouring New York rain, carrying the most powerful woman in the city toward his beat-up, 10-year-old Honda Civic. The drive from Manhattan to Queens was a blur of flashing tail lights and torrential rain.
Victoria lay in the passenger seat, the seat belt securely fastened around her, shivering violently despite Aiden blasting the heater. She was slipping in and out of consciousness, muttering fragmented, frantic sentences about stock prices, offshore accounts, and her late father's legacy. Aiden kept his eyes glued to the slick road, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. He was terrified. He was a single father hanging by a financial thread.
If anyone misunderstood the situation, he wouldn't just lose his job. He could go to prison for kidnapping. But every time he glanced at the pale, trembling woman beside him, his conscience overrode his panic. He couldn't leave her to the wolves. He pulled into the cramped, poorly lit parking lot of his apartment complex.
The elevator had been broken for 3 weeks, so Aiden scooped Victoria back into his arms and carried her up four flights of stairs. By the time he reached his door, his lungs were burning. He fumbled with his keys, nudging the door open with his shoulder. The apartment was tiny. A single main room that served as a living, dining, and kitchen area with two small bedrooms down a narrow hall.
It smelled of cinnamon, old paperbacks, and the faint, comforting scent of baby shampoo. Mrs. Higgins was asleep in the worn armchair by the television, the local news playing at a low volume. She startled awake as Aiden kicked the door shut. "Oh, sweet heavens, Aiden." The elderly woman gasped, clutching her knitted shawl as she saw the glamorous, semi-conscious woman in his arms. "Who is that?
Has there been an accident?" "It's a long story, Mrs. Higgins," Aiden said, breathless, carrying Victoria toward his small sofa and laying her down gently. "She's my boss. Someone tried to hurt her." "Is Chloe okay?" "Her fever broke about an hour ago. She's sleeping soundly in her bed," Mrs. Higgins said, her eyes wide as she took in Victoria's soaked, expensive gown and pale face. "Aiden, should I call an ambulance?" "No, not yet.
She explicitly asked me not to," Aiden said, pulling out a $20 bill from his wallet. "Thank you for watching Chloe. I'm going to make sure she's safe, and then I'll figure this out in the morning. Mrs. Higgins nodded slowly, her maternal instincts kicking in. She's freezing, Aiden, and she looks terribly sick.
You need to get her warm. With a sympathetic pat on his arm, the elderly woman let herself out, locking the deadbolt behind her. Alone in the quiet apartment, Aiden turned back to Victoria. She was groaning, clutching her stomach, her face contorted in agony. The drug Tristan had slipped her was reacting violently with whatever else was in her system.
Suddenly, her eyes flew open, wide with panic. "Sick." She gasped out, scrambling to sit up. "I'm going to be sick." Aiden grabbed the small plastic trash can from under the kitchen sink just in time, sliding it in front of her as she retched violently. He held her hair back, soft, immaculate waves now tangled and damp with sweat, murmuring quiet, soothing words as she heaved. It broke his heart a little.
This was the woman who had ruthlessly fired three vice presidents on a single Tuesday, now reduced to trembling vulnerability on his cheap linoleum floor. When the nausea finally subsided, Victoria collapsed back against the sofa cushions, gasping for air. Her emerald silk gown was stained and ruined, clinging to her freezing skin. She was shivering so hard her teeth were chattering audibly. "Cold." She whimpered, her arms wrapping around herself.
"So cold." Aiden knew she needed out of the wet, soiled clothes immediately if she was going to get her core temperature back up. But he also knew the boundaries he absolutely could not cross. "Miss Harrington." Aiden said softly, crouching down to her eye level. "Victoria, listen to me. Your dress is ruined and you are freezing.
You need to take it off. I'm going to help you into the bathroom and I'm going to give you something dry to wear. Can you understand me? She nodded weakly, her eyes half-closed. He helped her to her feet, supporting her weight as she stumbled into the tiny, brightly lit bathroom.
He flipped the toilet lid down, easing her onto it so she wouldn't fall. He then turned his back completely. He reached up, pulling his own rented tuxedo jacket off, then stripped off his white undershirt. He quickly went to his bedroom and grabbed the thickest, largest piece of clothing he owned, an oversized, faded red and black flannel lumberjack shirt that went down to his mid-thigh. He returned to the bathroom, keeping his eyes firmly squeezed shut, his back to the door.
He cracked the door open just an inch. "Victoria," he called out softly. "I'm passing the shirt through the door. Can you manage the zipper on your dress?" He heard a weak, frustrated sob from inside. "It's stuck.
My fingers won't work." Aiden swallowed hard, his heart pounding with anxiety. "Okay, I'm going to come in. My eyes will be closed the entire time. I am just going to unzip the back and then I am walking out. Do you trust me?" "Yes," came a small, broken whisper.
Aiden stepped backward into the bathroom, keeping his eyes clamped shut. He felt his way toward her, his hands lightly finding her shoulders. He found the cold metal zipper at the nape of her neck and smoothly pulled it down to the small of her back. The silk loosened immediately. "I'm stepping out now," Aiden said, immediately walking backward out of the room and pulling the door mostly shut.