Danielle Steel - Malice

“Two people,” she admitted to him. “A wonderful woman I knew, a therapist … she was killed in a plane crash on her honeymoon almost three years ago. And a man who was my lawyer, but I haven't talked to him in a long time either.”

“You haven't had a lot of luck, have you, Grace?”

She shook her head sadly, and then shrugged. “I don't know … lately I have. I can't complain.” She decided to take a huge leap then. “I was lucky when I met you.” Saying those words to him almost choked her and he knew it.

“Not as lucky as I was. Now get some sleep, sweetheart …” he said softly into the phone, “I'll come by at lunch. And maybe I'll even come back for dinner. Maybe I can bring you something from ‘21.’ “

“I was going to take Winnie there next week,” she said guiltily.

“You'll have plenty of time for that when you're well. Now go to sleep,” he whispered to her, wishing he could put his arms around her and protect her. She made him feel different than he had ever felt with any woman before. All he wanted to do was take care of her and keep her safe from harm. So many terrible things must have happened to her, even as recently as a week ago. But he wanted to change all that now.

They said good night and hung up, and she lay there thinking about him for a long time. He frightened her with the things he said to her, and his persistent attention, but oddly enough, as terrifying as it was, she liked it. And she felt a tingling sensation in her gut that she had never felt before for any man, until Charles Mackenzie.

Chapter 12

Charles came to see her twice the next day, and either once or twice a day for the next three weeks, until she was finally released from Bellevue. She could get around more easily on crutches by then, and take care of herself, but she still didn't have as much stamina as she would have liked. The doctor told her to wait another two weeks before she went back to work.

At the office, Charles was making do with temps, and Grace felt terribly guilty about it, but he was the first one to tell her not to rush back to work, not to come back in fact, until she was ready.

They spent hours together while she was in the hospital. She knew he'd had to cancel almost all his plans to be with her, but he pretended not to even notice. They laughed, and they talked, and played cards, and he joked with her. He didn't force any confidences from her, and he helped her walk down the hall, and promised her you couldn't see a single scar, and when she complained about how horrible the hospital gowns were, he brought her exquisite nightgowns from Pratesi. In a way, it was all embarrassing, and she was still terrified of where it would all lead, but she was no longer able to stop it. If he didn't come to lunch, she didn't eat, and if he had to miss an evening with her, she was so lonely she could barely stand it. Every time she saw his face appear in the doorway of her hospital room, she looked like a child who had found its only friend, or its teddy bear, or even its mother. He took care of everything for her, talked to the doctors, called in consultants, filed her insurance. No one at the office knew how involved he was with her, and even Winnie had no idea how much time he was spending with her. Grace had had a lifetime of practice at keeping secrets.

But once she went home, she was frightened again that everything would change. For about two hours, until he appeared at her apartment with champagne and balloons, and a picnic lunch. It was only two hours after he had brought her back from the hospital in a rented limo and left her briefly to do some errands.

“What are people going to think?” she said, as he drove her from the hospital, back to Eighty-fourth street. She imagined that everyone knew her boss was hanging out with her day and night, and they were going to put it up on billboards.

“I don't think anyone really cares, to tell you the truth. Except us. Everyone is busy screwing up their own lives. And frankly, I don't think we're screwing up ours. You're the best thing that ever happened to me.” He repeated that to her when he arrived on her doorstep with a picnic. More importantly, he had a small blue box with him, and in it was a narrow gold bracelet.

“What's this for?” she said, awed by his generosity. It was from Tiffany, and it fit her perfectly, but she wasn't sure if she should accept it.

But he was laughing at her. “Do you know what day this is?” She shook her head. She had lost track of dates while she was in the hospital. She had spent the Fourth of July there, but she hadn't paid much attention after that. “It's your birthday, silly girl. That's why I had them let you out today instead of Monday. You can't stay in the hospital on your birthday!” Tears filled her eyes as she realized what he'd done, and he'd even brought a small birthday cake for her from Greenberg's. It was all chocolate, and very rich, and incredibly gooey and delicious.

“How can you do all this for me?” She felt shy with him suddenly, but so pleased. He had done nothing but spoil her since the mugging. Spoil her and be kind to her, and spend time with her. No one had ever been as kind to her as he was.

“Easy, I guess,” he answered, “I don't have kids. Maybe I should adopt you. Now there's a thought. That certainly simplifies things for you, doesn't it?” She laughed at the suggestion. It would certainly have been easier than dealing with her feelings and fears of getting involved with him.

Their relationship changed subtly once she was back in her apartment. It was instantly more intimate, closer, and more difficult to pretend that they were just friends. They were suddenly all alone without nurses and attendants to chaperon and interrupt them. It made Grace feel shy with him at first, and he pretended not to notice. He had brought a funny nurse's hat with him with her birthday cake and gift and picnic lunch, and he put it on, and forced her to go to bed and rest. He watched TV with her, and made dinner for her in her tiny kitchen. She hobbled out to help, and he made her sit in a chair and watch, while she protested.

“I'm not helpless, you know,” she objected vociferously.

“Yes, you are. Don't forget, I'm the boss here,” he overruled her, and she laughed. It was so easy being with him, and so comfortable. They lay on her bed after dinner, and talked, and he held her hand, but he was desperately afraid to go any further, or of what would happen if he did. And finally, unable to stand it any longer, he turned and asked her one of the things he had wanted to know for weeks now.

“Are you afraid of me, Grace? I mean physically … I don't want to do anything that will frighten or hurt you.” She was touched that he had asked her. He had been lying next to her on her bed for two hours, and holding her hand. They were like old friends, but there was also an undeniable electricity between them. And now it was Charles who was frightened. He didn't want to do anything that would jeopardize their relationship, or make him lose her.

“Sometimes, I'm afraid of men,” she said honestly.

“Someone did some awful stuff to you, didn't they?” She nodded in answer. “A stranger?” She shook her head and there was a long pause.

“My father.” But there were other things, and she knew she needed to explain those too. She sighed, and picked up his hand again and kissed his fingers. “All my life, people tried to hurt me, or take advantage of me. After … after he was gone … my first boss tried to seduce me. He was married, I don't know … it was just so sleazy. He just assumed that he had a right to use me. And another man I had business dealings with did the same thing.” She was talking about Louis Marquez and didn't want to explain him to Charles just yet, although she knew that eventually, if this got serious, she'd have to. “This other man kept threatening, threatened that I'd lose my job if I didn't sleep with him. He used to show up at my apartment. It was disgusting … and then there was someone I went out with. He did pretty much the same thing, used me, made a fool of me, never gave a damn. He put something in my drink and I got horribly sick. But he didn't rape me at least. At first I was afraid that maybe he had after he'd drugged me, but he hadn't. He just made me look like a fool afterwards. He was a real bastard.”