Jennifer Lewis - Mistress to the Magnate

Just in case.

Melody heard voices in the hallway outside her room and craned her neck to see who was there. Two men stood just outside her door. Dr. Nelson, her neurologist, and a second man she didn’t recognize. Which wasn’t unusual seeing as how she didn’t recognize anyone.

Could he be another doctor maybe? God knew she had seen her share in the past couple of days. But something about him, the way he carried himself, even though she only saw him in profile, told her he wasn’t a part of the hospital staff. This man was someone … important. Someone of a higher authority.

The first thing that came to mind of course was a police detective, and her heart did a somersault with a triple twist. Maybe the police had seen the money in her purse and they sent someone to question her. Then she realized that no one on a public servant’s pay could afford such an expensive suit. She didn’t even know how she knew that it was expensive, but she did. Somewhere deep down she instinctively knew she should recognize the clothes designer, yet the name refused to surface. And it didn’t escape her attention how well the man inside the suit wore it. She didn’t doubt it was tailored to fit him exclusively.

The man listened intently as the doctor spoke, nodding occasionally. Who could he be? Did he know her? He must, or why else would they be standing in her doorway?

The man turned in her direction, caught her blatantly staring, and when his eyes met hers, her heart did that weird flippy thing again. The only way to describe him was … intense. His eyes were clear and intelligent, his build long and lean, his features sharp and angular. And he was ridiculously attractive. Like someone straight off the television or the pages of her gossip mags.

He said a few words to the doctor, his eyes never straying from hers, then entered her room, walking to the bed, no hesitation or reserve, that air of authority preceding him like a living, breathing entity.

Whoever this man was, he knew exactly what he wanted, and she didn’t doubt he would go to any lengths to get it.

“You have a visitor, Melody.” Only when Dr. Nelson spoke did she realize he’d walked in, too.

The man stood silently beside her bed, watching her with eyes that were a striking combination of green and brown flecks rimmed in deep amber—as unique and intense as the rest of him.

He looked as though he expected her to say something. She wasn’t sure what though.

Dr. Nelson walked around to stand at the opposite side of her bed, his presence a comfort as she felt herself begin to wither under the stranger’s scrutiny. Why did he look at her that way? Almost as though he was angry with her.

“Does he look familiar to you?” Dr. Nelson asked.

He was undeniably easy on the eyes, but she couldn’t say that she’d ever seen him before. Melody shook her head. “Should he?”

The men exchanged a look, and for some reason her heart sank.

“Melody,” Dr. Nelson said, in a soothing and patient voice. “This Asher Williams. Your fiancé.”

Melody shook her head, unwilling to accept what the doctor was telling her. She didn’t even know why. It just didn’t feel right. Maybe it was the way he was looking at her, as if her being in an accident had somehow been a slight against him. Shouldn’t he be relieved that she was alive?

So where were his tears of joy? Why didn’t he gather her up and hold her?

“No, he isn’t,” she said.

The doctor frowned, and her so-called fiancé looked taken aback.

“You remember?” Dr. Nelson asked.

“No. But I just know. That man can’t be my fiancé.”

Tension hung like a foul odor in the room. No one seemed to know what to do or say next.

“Would you excuse us, Doctor?” her imposter fiancé said, and Melody felt a quick and sharp stab of panic. She didn’t want to be alone with him. Something about his presence was just so disconcerting.

“I’d like him to stay,” she said.

“Actually, I do have patients I need to see.” He flashed Melody an encouraging smile and gave her arm a gentle pat. “The nurse is just down the hall if you need anything.”

That wasn’t very reassuring. What did they even know about this man? Did they check out his story at all, or take him on his word? He could be a rapist or an ax murderer. A criminal who preyed on innocent women with amnesia. Or even worse, maybe he was the person she had taken that cash from. Maybe he was here for revenge.

She tucked her purse closer to her side under the covers, until she was practically sitting on it.

The phrase never show fear popped into her head, although from where, she didn’t have a clue. But it was smart advice, so she lifted her chin as he grabbed a chair and pulled it up to the side of her bed. He removed his jacket and draped it over the back before he sat down. He wasn’t a big man, more lean than muscular, so why did she feel this nervous energy? This instinct to run?

He eased the chair closer to her side and she instinctively jerked upright. So much for not showing fear. Even in repose the man had an assuming presence.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he said.

“Do you honestly expect me to just take your word that we’re engaged?” she asked. “You could be. anyone.”

“Do you have your driver’s license?”

“Why?”

He reached into his back pants pocket and she tensed again. “Relax. I’m just grabbing my wallet. Look at the address on my driver’s license.” He handed his wallet to her.

The first thing she noticed, as she flipped it open, was that there were no photos, nothing of a personal nature, and the second thing was the thick stack of cash tucked inside. And yes, the address on his license was the same as hers. She knew without checking her own license because she had read it over and over about a thousand times yesterday, hoping it would trigger some sort of memory. A visual representation of the place she’d lived.

Of course, it hadn’t.

She handed his wallet back to him, and he stuck it in his pocket. “That doesn’t prove anything. If we’re really engaged, where is my ring?” She held up her hand, so he could see her naked finger. A man of his obvious wealth would have bought the woman he planned to marry a huge rock.

He reached into his shirt pocket and produced a ring box. He snapped it open and inside was a diamond ring with a stone so enormous and sparkly it nearly took her breath away. “One of the prongs came loose and it was at the jeweler’s being repaired.”

He handed it to her, but she shook her head. She still wasn’t ready to accept this. Although, what man would offer what must have been a ridiculously expensive ring to a woman who wasn’t his fiancée?

Of course, one quick thwack with the ax and it would easily be his again.

She cringed and chastised herself for the gruesome thought.

“Maybe you should hang on to it for now, just to be safe,” she told him.

“No. I don’t care if you believe me or not.” He rose from his chair and reached for her hand, and it took everything in her not to flinch. “This belongs to you.”

The ring slid with ease on her finger. A perfect fit. Could it just be a coincidence? It was becoming increasingly difficult not to believe him.

“I have these, too,” he said, leaning down to take a stack of photos from the inside of his jacket. He gave them to her, then sat back down.

The pictures were indeed of her and this Asher person. She skimmed them, and in each and every one they were either smiling or laughing or … oh, my … some were rather racy in nature.

Her cheeks blushed brightly and a grin quirked up the corner of his mouth. “I included a few from our personal collection, so there wouldn’t be any doubt.”