"This is good," I murmured as I rested my head on the edge of the bathtub, my gaze fixed on the ceiling. The harsh lights overhead were a bit blinding, making me squint. It had been ages since I'd had the luxury of a bath. The first touch of scorching hot water had almost made me burst into tears. I didn't know how long I'd been soaking, but the water had cooled to a more comfortable warmth. I knew it was time to call someone to scrub me, but the thought of Mal oe being that person made me hesitate. I didn't want his dirty hands on my skin. I'd rather just enjoy the hot water for now.
The creak of the door and the sound of heavy footsteps made me freeze. I hoped desperately that it was a female maid, someone who'd been instructed to keep me presentable. But the deep, heavy footsteps and the faint scent of male cologne told me otherwise. "You don't need to bathe me. I'll manage," I said, trying to sound firm as I met his brown eyes. "You can leave now."
He chuckled, a sound that sent a shiver down my spine. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his tie, and tossed it onto the pile of clothes in the laundry basket. I watched him as he removed his shirt, taking in his well-defined muscles and the tattoos and scars that marked his skin—evidence of his dangerous lifestyle. His body told stories of a life lived on the edge. "Don't make me shy, darlin'," he said, playfully covering his chest with his arms. His tone shifted to a high-pitched, mock-innocent one as he looked down, as though he were a shy bride.
I couldn't help but scoff, turning my gaze back to the ceiling. "You just barged in while I'm trying to relax and started undressing. Who wouldn't look at someone so bold?" I squealed as he suddenly reached for his pants. I quickly shut my eyes, not wanting to see his naked body. "Can you please not undress here?"
"But I want to," he drawled, and my heart raced as I heard the loud clang of his belt buckle hitting the floor. I silently prayed he was heading for the shower instead of the bathtub. Sharing a bath with him would be a nightmare I couldn't escape, especially since I was unable to move and would need his help to get out of the bathroom.
"Oh, my days," I exclaimed when I felt the water ripple and warmth approach me from behind. The sudden shift in the water's movement made my heart pound faster, and I braced myself for what was to come.
"Relax," he said in a soothing voice as he gripped my shoulders gently. "There we go," he added after pushing my body forward slightly and lowering himself into the tub behind me. He settled me against his chest, and for a few moments, I was overwhelmed with a mix of emotions. The water was cooling, I felt both clean and unclean, his heartbeat was a steady thrum against my back, and I couldn't comprehend why he had joined me. My mind was a whirl of questions, but all I could do was lie there and hope for a way to change the subject without provoking him.
"Why?" I whispered, breaking the uneasy silence. "Why are you so determined to have me by your side? Why go after my family and my body just to keep me with you? We met once—at that awful place—and you already felt that I belonged to you, that I should follow your every rule. I don't understand why it had to be me. There must be many women in your world who'd gladly take my place. Why choose me?"
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he raised the scrubber, lathered it with soap, and began to gently scrub me. His humming was the only response I received. It was clear he wasn't a man who enjoyed discussing his motives. I didn't know how to handle the situation. The water was making my toes prune, and I wanted to get out, but his intense focus on his task made me uncertain if he'd let me leave.
"You have siblings," I said, trying to break the silence and ease the awkwardness of his scrubbing. "And they're Korean, right?" He hummed in response. "So, you're half Korean and half Afrikaner. That's interesting." I mentally chastised myself for stating the obvious. "So... we're getting married on January 26, right?" I asked, hoping to shift the conversation to something less tense. He hummed again. "Fun fact: that's actually my birthday. I was thinking of having a nice lunch and celebrating. Maybe you could move the date just a bit... a few days later? I'd love to enjoy a quiet birthday before the wedding chaos begins."
My breath caught as his hands continued to scrub my breasts with an unsettling amount of attention. How long was he going to focus on that area? I was relieved when his hands moved down to my stomach, then quickly to my legs. His touch, though professional, felt overly intimate.
"I think I'm good," I said, turning to face him. "I want to get out now," I pleaded, hoping my tone would convince him to stop and let me go. The thought of him washing below my stomach was too much to bear. "Please, just let me get dressed. The water is getting cold," I added, looking into his eyes with a mixture of desperation and hope.
I sighed with relief when his hold on me loosened, and he murmured softly, "Okay." His voice was calm and almost reassuring, but the tension remained as I prepared to leave the bath.
