The Don's Captive Bride

STORM BOUND. “Hi– do you have a room?” The innkeeper—an older man with greying streaks in his hair and a pair of round glasses perched on top of his nose—looked up at Zoey with an unreadable expression before his face broke into a warm smile. “Depends on what you need it for,” he replied and she promptly gave him an ‘are you serious right now?’ look then glanced down pointedly at her soaked shirt then the two wet suitcases she'd managed to drag into the lobby. “I'd think my reasons for needing a room are quite obvious,sir.” The man chuckled as he flipped open a large notebook and adjusted his glasses. “Sorry miss,It's standard protocol to ask,” he said, handing her a pen. “I'm John,I keep the inn.” Zoey nodded. “Nice to meet you John…” “Terrible storm tonight,yes?” “Indeed,” she answered,shivering slightly as she felt a trickle of rain water down her back. “It wouldn't let up,and I didn't want to continue driving in it…” she sniffed. “My car's parked right outside by the way.” The in keeper glanced down at her name as she returned the pen. “Don't worry Miss Olson,your vehicle will be safe.” She nodded again, feeling thankful for the heater in the reception area. She wrapped her arms around herself as she cast a look around the brightly lit space, uninterestedly taking in the soundless television and a large framed photo of a man who looked like the older version of the innkeeper. Her brows suddenly furrowed with a mixture of fear and surprise as her gaze landed on the male figure sitting on one of the comfortable looking chairs just beside a vending machine,with his suit jacket carelessly tossed on the empty spot beside him. He was slightly hunched over,his long hair covering his face and almost touching his knees. Zoey briefly wondered why she hadn't noticed him sooner as she turned her attention back to the innkeeper. “Um…. who's that?” she asked in a low voice, jabbing a thumb behind her shoulder. “Oh,he came in just before the storm started…he didn't want a room, otherwise you'd be all out of options.” The older man answered,then held up a key hesitantly—not quite handing it over to her. “My apologies Miss Olsen,but unfortunately the room that is available is….not in the best condition,” he started. “I'll need about ten minutes to make it look habitable enough.” “Does it atleast have a bed?” “Of course—an old one,but still—” Zoey let out a frustrated whimper as she became even more aware of the wet clothes clinging to every crevice of her body. How come there were no workers here? And why was there a strange man just sitting across from them,not saying a word or moving a muscle? As if the older man had heard her first question,he smiled gently and walked around the counter to stand in front of her. “Our staff only work days,” he explained. “I can only afford to pay them for that. I handle everything else at night and normally we'd have available rooms;but with the storm—” “It's fine,John.” Zoey cut in softly. “I'll wait while you—” she waved a hand around as she trailed off on a shivery sigh. With a nod,the innkeeper moved towards the staircase near the reception desk and slowly disappeared upwards. She let out another sigh then moved her bags to lean against the counter before turning to look at the man,who was now leaning back against the headrest, watching her with hooded eyes. Zoey felt a shiver course through her,but this time it had nothing to do with how wet her clothes were or the rainstorm outside. Before she could stop herself,she was closing the distance between them,her heart already starting to race. “Hi—” she hesitated when his eyes flickered feverishly. “Are you alright?” She glanced over him quickly, lingering very briefly at the exposed skin of his chest from where his black shirt was left unbuttoned. “I was stabbed.” Zoey threw a panicked look at the entrance door, wondering if she wouldn't be better off facing the aggressive weather than being in the same space with this man,who was looking at her with fire in his eyes. “Ar…are you sure?”she asked stupidly and saw the corner of his lips curve up ever so slightly in a small smile as his left hand suddenly moved; slid over to the side of his stomach before he raised his palm to her. She sucked in a breath at the sight of the red liquid, before taking him in again,slowly. This time she noticed the large, barely perceptible patch of wetness on his upper arm,and his stomach. He followed her gaze,and his throat bobbed. “I was also shot —” “Oh my God! You need to get to a hospital!” Zoey snapped anxiously, moving even closer. Her hands fluttered over him undecidedly for a few seconds before she reached into her the pocket of her soaked jacket and drew out her phone. “No signal…” she sniffed, wiping the back of her hand across her face. “I'll just call 911—” A gasp escaped her when he suddenly reached out and held her hand. “No—no hospital,” he drawled. “But you're bleeding out!” “It'll stop—” “Yeah,when you die.” Their eyes locked and she felt that shivering sensation again just before his sinfully long lashes fluttered and he let out a painful moan before falling back,still holding onto her arm. “I already tried to stop the bleeding,” he murmured. “It won't—please—no hospitals.” She swallowed as she noted the sheen of sweat on his brow and the way his breath was coming in laboured pants. “What? You don't have insurance?” She half joked and he nodded once. “Yeah—that. Perhaps you could help make it till morning? I'll get some professional help then.” “What's your name then?” He hesitated. “Alexander.” “Alexander,” she repeated as she picked up his discarded jacket. “I'll help you. But you will have to see a doctor tomorrow.” He didn't say anything as she leaned down and helped him up just as the innkeeper's voice broke through the silence. “All done Miss Olsen—you’ll be getting a discount for your troubles tonight.” “Thank you,John.” Zoey said,her arm circled around Alexander's waist. “We'll be spending the night together.” The older man glanced between the rain soaked beauty and the slightly pale and sweaty fellow then shrugged. “Fine by me.” “One more thing,” Zoey said as she and A lexander began a steady walk towards the stairs. “I'll need some help with my bags.”