Useless. I hated feeling useless.
I shook my head, meeting my green gaze in the mirror. I was safe now. Marcus had repeated that over and over. He had been nothing but kind. Sofia, as well.
Given what had transpired, I was shocked I could believe him, but I did.
I gathered the strength I had left and dried off, dressing in the clothes Sofia had brought me. Simple yoga pants and a light, warm sweater covered most of me. Thick socks felt good on my feet. I left my hair to dry and, with a deep breath, opened the door. I shuffled down a short hall and peered around the corner.
A huge room was ahead of me. Towering ceilings, skylights, and windows filled it with light. Old, thick planks covered the floors, exposed brick made the place rustic and warm. To the right was a living area with sofas and chairs arranged in an orderly fashion. An open kitchen separated by a long counter was on the far wall. There was a table and chairs, and around it were Sofia, Marcus, and a man I thought I recognized. They were all talking, their voices low and serious.
I took a moment to study Marcus. He sat at the head of the table. He was the largest of the group, his impressive size dwarfing the others. His dark hair gleamed under the lights, and the shirt he wore stretched over his broad shoulders. His jawline was clean, his profile chiseled and masculine. He held a cup of coffee in one hand and gestured with his other as he spoke. He stopped mid-sentence when he noticed me, his deep brown stare meeting mine. For a moment, he said nothing, simply looking at me, then he set down his coffee and stood, saying something to the others. Sofia glanced over her shoulder and offered me a smile, then she and the other man stood and left. Marcus approached me, stopping a few feet away.
“You’re awake and walking. Both good signs.” A grin broke out on his face. “And no gun. Another improvement.”
“Your damn drawer was locked.”
He chuckled. “Come on, sweetheart. Sofia says you need to eat, and I have food for you.”
“Why do you keep calling me sweetheart?”
“I don’t know your name. Sweetheart seems nicer than hey, you.”
“Melissa. My name is Melissa Evans.”
“Well, Melissa Evans, I need you to come and eat. Doctor’s orders.”
I followed him, sitting at the table as he went to the kitchen. When he lifted the lid on a pot, the scent of tomatoes, garlic, and spices filled the air. My stomach growled so loud, even he heard it. He filled a bowl and slid it in front of me.
“Slowly. I know you’re hungry, but you need to eat slowly or it won’t stay in.”
I nodded, reaching for the spoon he handed me. I dipped it in the thick broth and brought it to my mouth, groaning at the taste. It was all I could do not to toss the spoon to the side, simply pick up the bowl, bring it to my mouth, and gulp it down. But I knew he was right and I would throw it up just as quickly. I chewed slowly, swallowing the delicious food.
“What is this?”
“Pasta e fagioli soup.”
“It’s so good.”
He set a glass of water and a jug on the table, then slid a plate of bread in front of me. He carried his own bowl to the table and sat down, lifting his spoon.
“I’m glad you like it. I’m a little surprised you didn’t make me taste it first.”
I paused, and he pushed the bowl toward me. “I’m teasing. It’s fine. Eat.”
I ate and drank steadily. He refilled my water glass, gave me a second bowl of the thick soup, smiling in approval when I finished it as well. He didn’t try to make small talk, which I was grateful for. I preferred the silence right now.
“Good. Sofia will be pleased. She wasn’t happy you hadn’t eaten, but I told her I could barely get you to wake up to take meds and sip water.”
“Did you stay in that chair the whole time?”
He shrugged, finishing his bowl and setting it aside. “Most of it. I had to check on my men and do a few things. I never left you alone long.”
My throat felt thick. “That was very kind.”
He pursed his lips, resting his elbows on the table. I tried not to notice how muscular his forearms looked. Strong and capable—like the rest of him.
“Kind? No. I think you went through hell, sweetheart. You seemed to rest better when I was close. I wanted you to sleep so you could recover. Simple.”
I frowned. “Missy.”
“What?”
“You called me sweetheart again. If Melissa is too big a name to remember, my friends used to call me Missy. Maybe that would be easier for you to recall.”