Chapter 3- I'm your husband

Elvie was vaguely aware of a murmur of voices and the faint hum of the heating system around her.

Someone—was it the nurse? or the old doctor? She inhaled the sweet aroma of rain, ocean, and silky fabric. But she refused to open her eyes. Her head ached so badly that all she wanted to do was close her eyes and cry. She didn't want to get out of bed. She didn't want to leave the darkness and tranquility of sleep, the warmth of scarcely remembered dreams that still held her like a tight embrace. She didn't want to return to existence's void, where she had no memories. No identity. Nothing to hold on to.

It was nothingness, far greater than any suffering.

And then the doctor told her a few hours ago that she had a four-year-old daughter.

She couldn’t remember conceiving the child. Couldn’t even remember the face of her baby’s father. But she will meet him today. He would be here in a minute. She thought to herself.

Elvie clenched her eyes tight, covering her head with the pillow. She was scared and terrified at the prospect of seeing her daughter's father for the first time.

Why was she suddenly nervous?

Why was she afraid?

What type of man would he turn out to be? Why couldn't she remember him?

What was his name?

And where had her daughter gone?

Then suddenly, she could hear the door opening and closing. Elvie was holding her breath. Someone then sat down next to her, leading her to lean towards him on the mattress. Strong arms wrapped around her. She inhaled the woodsy fragrance of his cologne as she felt the warmth of a man's body.

"Elvie?" the man's deep voice was deep, pure and low, with a foreign accent she couldn't recognise yet familiar in a way she realised was too aggressive and possessive at the same time.

She frowned as a wave of adrenaline went through her. Elvie pulled the pillow away with a deep breath.

She was convinced she had heard the voice before but couldnt remembered.

The man was standing so close to her. The sharpness of his cheekbones was the first thing she noticed. His strong jaw was covered with a black scruff. She saw his entire face as he drew back.

Simply put, he was gorgeous.

Wow! Who could this man be?

How could a man be both manly and beautiful at the same time? His black hair brushed up against the tops of his ears. He had an angel's face. That of a warrior. His godlike nose has been fractured at least once due to a minor flaw in the angle. He had a large, seductive mouth, and a twist of his lips conveyed arrogance and, perhaps, viciousness.

"Who are you?" she grumbled. Surely, this man wasn't the—

Who was he, anyway?

Dark as black, his eyes glared down at her. And for a brief time within those black depths, she saw a raging blaze of hatred—anger and regret—as if he wished she were dead, as if she were a ghost he'd long since committed to hell.

Odd, she thought to herself.

Yet, he was smiling down at her with sympathetic concern as she blinked. Elvie must have imagined that ferocious loathing, she reasoned. Not unexpected, given how messed up her mind had been since the accident—an accident she couldn't even recall!

"Elvie? Dear?" he said softly, brushing her cheek. "I honestly thought I'd never find you."

The roughness of his fingertips across her flesh burned her. She felt a sizzle down her neck to her breasts, tightening her nipples and spiralling her belly in an unusual tightness. She scanned his face with a sharp intake of breath, unable to trust her own sight.

Was this man her lover? He was not what she anticipated. Not at all.

When Dr. Bill told her that her lover was on his way from Los Angeles, she imagined a gentleman with a caring heart and a sense of humour. A charming man who would discuss his problems with her while they cleaned dishes at the end of the day. She'd wished for a caring partner. An equal. Never in her wildest thoughts had she envisioned a raw, handsome god like him—painfully gorgeous, manly, and so strong that he could easily sever her heart with a glance.

"Aren't you relieved to see me, dear?" Zander said in hushed tones.

Elvie examined his features while holding her breath. But no memories rushed through her—no recollections of the hard curve of his cheek or the slightly wicked twist to his sensual lips. No memories of a thousand little intimacies between lovers. Nothing! Empty. Her mind was empty.

Then he helped her sit up. His hands lingered possessively on her back, causing a sudden heat across her body.

Elvie licked her lips nervously.

"You are—you must be—Zander Stanton—my, um, boyfriend?" she ventured, waiting for him to deny it. She was almost hoping he would and that her real boyfriend, the kind-faced man with the gentle eyes, would walk through the door.

Zander’s hands on her back paused. "So you do recognise me."

She shook her head. "No. Your two employees—the doctor—told me your name. They said you were on your way."

He looked down at her, searching her face.

"Dr. Bill told me you had amnesia. I didn’t believe it. But it’s true, isn’t it? You really don’t remember me."

"Yes," Elvie could only imagine how that must hurt him! "I’m sorry," she said, rubbing her forehead. "I keep trying, but the first thing I can remember is your employee pulling me from my car. It was a lucky thing that they were in the car behind me! They saved me."

His lips seemed to curve imperceptibly. "Yes. Very lucky." He sat up straight. "You will be leaving the hospital today."

She took a deep breath. "Today?"

"Right now."

"But…" she bit her lip then blurted out, "But I still can’t remember anything! I hoped when I saw you…"

"You hoped seeing me would bring your memory back?"

She nodded miserably. "Yes." There was no point in feeling disappointed, she told herself fiercely, or making him feel more badly about it than he already did.

"I'm not your boyfriend, by the way."

She frowned, a little disappointed.

"I'm your husband."

"What?" Her eyes widened. "My husband?"

"Yes."

"But—"

"Well, you—I mean, we have a little disagreement; you run away from home. Silly, but thank God, I found you."

"Okay but where is she?"

"Who?"

"Our daughter? Dr. Bill told me that I have a daughter. I mean, we have a daughter. Where is she?"

"About that, let's not talk about her yet."

"Why? I need to see her—maybe I'll remember if!"

"I don't know where you left her."

Elvie's eyes widened. "What? I left her?"

"Yes."

"Where? That is—no, no—if I have a daughter, I will never—ahhhh!" She halted and closed her eyes. There it was again: the pain—a very excruciating pain in her skull.

A few minutes later, when the nurse gave her another yet relaxing medicine, she breathed heavily. But she couldn’t stop the lump in her throat. She’d been counting on the idea that when she saw the face of the man she loved—the man who loved her—her amnesia would end.

But her? Leaving her daughter?

Where?

Why?

And this man? Why does it feel like he hates her?

Unless they didn’t love each other, she thought suddenly. Putting her many questions aside,

"I’m sure you must feel so hurt," Elvie murmured under her breath, trying to push away her sudden fear. She said haltingly, "I can only imagine how it must feel to love someone who can’t remember you."

Do you love me? She thought desperately, trying to read his face. Do I love you?

"Shhh. It’s all right." Lowering his head, Zander kissed her tenderly on the forehead. The warmth of his presence was like the summer sun on a winter’s day. Then he lifted her chin, and his dark eyes whipped through her like a blast of heat. "Don’t worry, dear. In time, you will remember everything. I already ordered my men to look for our daughter, okay? Don't worry about anything else."

"But—"

"Trust me, okay?"

Elvie recognised, as she looked into his face, that her first impression of him had been completely incorrect. He wasn't mean. He was thoughtful amd kind. How else could he be so compassionate, patient, and loving, putting aside his own pain to focus solely on her?

She inhaled deeply. She pushed the sheets away and whispered, over a knot in her throat, "I'll get dressed to go."

He came to a halt in front of her. "Wait. There's something else we need to discuss."

She recognised right away what he was going to say.

And without the protection of blankets between them, she felt terribly exposed and defenceless in every way in her paper-thin medical gown. She dragged the covers back over her body, almost to her neck.

"About the accident?" she asked quietly.

Zander's voice was low and almost solemn. "Yes."

"I don't know what happened; I wasn't drunk, though," her voice shook.

As his darkly attractive face looked down at her, she caught her breath. When he finally spoke, his voice was tinged with an emotion she couldn't place. "Elvie, I was terrified. I thought—"

She smiled as she searched his gaze. "I'm okay. See, I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

Zander grimaced, his hands tightening and twisting the blanket in her grasp. He gazed down at it, then up at her. "I've never seen you like this," he replied quietly. His dark stare caressed her face hungrily. He stroked some black strands from her face with his fingertips. "No makeup. Bare."

She attempted to back away. "Really? I'm sure I look awful."

But he pulled her in. As he stared down at her, his dark eyes made her quiver from inside.

"You are beautiful," he remarked comfortably.

He put his arms around her. "I’m going to take good care of you. I promised."

"Why did I run away? Did we have a fight?" Elvie grumbled with a little smile on her face.

Why wouldn’t he answer? She swallowed, then lifted her head to give him a weak smile. "Don’t worry, I’m not an invalid. I hope the amnesia will disappear in a day or two. Dr. Bill said something about some specialist—"

His arms tightened around her, cradling her against his hard chest.

"You don’t need another doctor," he said roughly. "You just need to come home with me."

Through his black button-down shirt, she could feel his heartbeat on her cheek. His male aroma, sandalwood and amber, exotic and woodsy, surrounded her as she closed her eyes against her will. She inhaled his scent, heard his heartbeat, and felt his warmth.

Do I know this man? She thought to herself. Yet, with no answer, everything else slipped into oblivion. The private hospital room, the nurses and doctor visible through the door window, the sound of one of Zander's men hurriedly shouting on his mobile phone in some language she didn't recognise, the antibacterial scent, the machine beeps—it all disappeared.

There was nothing else.

Only Zander and his scent.

For the first time since her accident, she felt safe and cherished in his strong arms. She felt as if she belonged in this world. Along with him.

Zander smiled as he gently kissed her hair. She trembled as she felt the warmth of his breath and the scorching caress of his lips.

Fear? Longing? More questions...Did he love her?

She reached up, her hands grasping his rough jawline. Despite his nicely pressed clothing, the heavy shadow on his chin suggested he'd changed clothes on the plane without shaving. He'd flown in from Los Angeles. He'd been flying all night.

Did this means love?

Why was she too eager to know that anyway?

Elvie shook her head instead and asked, "Why didn’t you come to London with me for my parent’s funeral?" she ask slowly.