Saving His Princess(8)

By: Elisa Leigh


I turn my head and look at him, confused. “Did I do something wrong?”

He turns me around with his hands on my hips. With the sponge still in my hand, I stare up at him wondering what is going on. He looks down at the sponge, glaring at it. When he grabs it, throwing it in the sink behind me, I can’t help but laugh.

I stop laughing when I look up and notice how he’s looking at me. “Princess, I’m going to make this as clear as I can. I want you to think of my home as your home. You are not here to do the dishes or the laundry. Don’t ever feel like you have to do anything. Now, tell me you understand.”

“I understand Vince,” I say before standing on my tiptoes and kissing him softly on the cheek. “Thank you.” I know what he’s trying to say. He wants me to know I don’t have to live like a slave anymore and it means more than he knows.

“Let’s go take a walk. We can do these later.” He says, gripping my hips with his strong hands.

The way he’s touching me feels so good. I’ve never had a man affect me in such a way, and it’s driving me crazy. I was just rescued from being enslaved, I’ve got nothing I can call mine, and I’m beginning to wonder if I’m in this country illegally. Even after all that, all I can think about are his thumbs slowly rubbing circles on my hips.

“Uhh… a walk? It’s snowing outside.” I say looking down at my borrowed clothes.

He looks behind me out the window. “It is snowing, isn’t it?” He says in awe, and a big smile spreads across his day-old scruff. “Come on, I’ve got an extra coat and boots you can wear. They’re mine so they’ll be too big, but they’ll be good enough for now.”

Before I can tell him no, he runs upstairs to his room and is back a few minutes later with two pairs of socks, a huge thick coat, and boots. “Here Princess put these on, and I’ll be right back.”

I sit down to put on both pairs of socks, and he’s back, kneeling in front of me. When he slides his huge black boot on my foot and starts to tie them tight, my eyes blur with tears.

He looks up when he’s finished tying the second boot and frowns. “Why are you crying?” He asks before wiping my tears from my cheeks with the pad of his thumbs.

“Happy tears.” I choke out and paste a smile on my face. He doesn’t need to know he’s the first person to show me genuine kindness in far too many years.

He stands, fully dressed to go outside, and reaches out his hand to help me up. “Let’s go.”

He leads us out the sliding glass door onto his back porch. From there he walks us out to his backyard that is covered in snow. We walk around, hand in hand as he points out a fox and deer that run across his property.

Growing up in Russia, these cold temperatures don’t bother me as much as he may think. I should probably tell Vince, but the warmth of his hand is too good to pull away from. He’s laced his fingers with mine, and every once in a while, he’ll brush his thumb across my wrist and sparks of electricity will shoot through my body. He stops and pulls his hand away from mine and crouches down, gathering snow into a ball.

I watch his every movement falling in love with the way he walks and talks, the way he moves, and the little ways he makes me feel cared for. It’s been twenty-four hours, and I know it’s completely crazy to be having these feelings, but I know Vince is essential to me and his presence in my life is imperative just like breathing.

“What are you doing?”

He smiles up at me mischievously, and I know he’s about to do something. “Have you ever built a snowman?”

“When I was a little girl, the nuns would let us play in the snow a few times a year. Until the year Andrey got sick with pneumonia. They didn’t let us go out after that. It’s been many years since I’ve played in the snow.”

His smile fades, and he stands up, dropping the snowball, he walks toward me. I wish I would have never said anything. Oh, how I wish I had beautiful stories to tell him, to keep that smile on his face. “Did you live in an orphanage Princess?”

I nod. “It wasn’t awful. The nuns were strict, but they took care of us. They made sure we had enough to eat and went to school with clean clothes and the things we needed.”

“Do you know what happened to your parents?”

I push my hands into the pockets of the jacket and shrug my shoulders. “Niet. No, I was dropped off as a baby. Nothing is known about my parents. Who they are or why they didn’t want me. It’s okay, I’m sure there are many reasons they couldn’t keep me. I’ve had many years to be okay with it.”

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