Page 16 of Kristoff

Dangerous thinking for a man like me.

She can’t be mine.

Especially not after what I’ve done.

I’ve broken her.

“I need you to sit here, okay?” I place her on the toilet lid and wait for her nod before I work on getting the tub filled with warm water. She won’t look at me. She isn’t crying anymore, but she won’t speak either.

“Magdalena, did you take the ibuprofen I had sent up?” I ask, testing the water with my hand.

She nods.

“All three?”

She nods again.

“Why didn’t you eat?”

A shrug.

“I told you to eat.” I firm up my voice and at least I get a reaction. Her shoulders tense. “Let’s get you cleaned up, then Dr. Morrow will check you over, and then you’ll eat. Every damn bite. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” she whispers as though I hit the response button on her motherboard.

A fucking robot.

I sigh and lift her from where I have her perched and ease her into the bath. She leans back and closes her eyes, not stopping me in my mission of washing away all the evidence of the violence of our last encounter.

Other than tensing when I bring the washcloth close to her pussy, she lets me have my way. For once. I shake my head, this isn’t the submission I want from her.

“Do you hurt anywhere?” I ask, pulling apart her pussy lips and running the cloth gently through her folds.

“No,” she lies. I glance at her and find a glimmer of fierceness in her eyes. The light isn’t dead, just dimmed.

I don’t chastise her for the lie, chasing her away now would be stupid. And I’ve already used up all my stupid for the day.

“Okay, lean your head back.” I go about washing her hair. Short dark locks that easily allow my fingers to comb through. While she has her head leaned back, I admire her neck. Long and soft - a perfect place to kiss, to bite, to wrap my hand around.

“All done,” I announce, and she pulls her knees up to her chest.

I uncork the tub and the glugging sound of the drain fills the space between us. I grab a towel from the rack. “Stand up.”

She still doesn’t move. I coddled too much.

“Now, Magdalena. I can’t dry you off if you’re sitting - get up.” I hold out the towel. She grimaces with her movements but gets to her feet. “Hands at your sides,” I order, and she listens.

I wouldn’t mind a bit of snark at this moment.

“The doctor’s waiting. And I expect you to do everything he says, no matter how you feel about it. Understand?” I finish wringing out her hair and point to the door.

“Yes, sir.”

I’m beginning to hate that phrase.

“Good.” I snap my fingers and move ahead of her, making her follow me into the bedroom. Tricia must have come and gone. The bed is remade. The tray has been moved to a nearby table.

“Hello, Magdalena.” Dr. Morrow steps between us, blocking me from her view. “I’m Dr. Morrow. I work for the Dowidoff family and my job is to make sure you’re in good health. I need you to lay on the bed for me, please. All right?” His pleasant voice grates on me. Her visual acceptance of him being there, her nod, irritates me more.

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